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Chapter Text

Korra

“I can feel you watching me,” Korra called out into the night. Jinora had finally left to go back to wherever she presently called home, and Korra had decided to take the risk of taking the long way back to her apartment.

It was dangerous to be out at night, even for her.

Still, she hadn’t really expected to be bothered. No matter how many warnings went out, and no matter what way those warnings were transmitted, there was almost always easy prey somewhere.

Korra was many things, she knew, including many things that she wished she wasn’t, but easy prey was definitely not one of those things.

Her right hand slipped under her bulky jacket as she waited to see who her stalker was. There was a reason her jacket was so bulky. It hid many things.

“Your senses are keen,” a woman’s voice said from the shadows of the alley Korra had been crossing. Or, at least, a voice that sounded like a woman’s voice. There were many things that lurked in the shadows of Republic City.

Korra had been trolling for action, she was willing to admit to herself. A conversation was not the action she had been hoping for, and certainly not the action she had been expecting.

Sometimes only blood could answer for blood.

“Of course,” the voice continued, “that is not surprising, considering your pedigree. Long have I wished to speak to the Living Bridge.”

Korra winced as she heard the night stalker’s title for her. “As long as the Living Bridge stands, shall balance abide.” Or so the saying went.

It was a very convenient saying for vampires and their servants. The balance was heavily in their favour, at present, making the saying more of a threat than anything else. Things were bad for humanity while Korra attempted to maintain balance – should she fail and fall, then things would get even worse.

It was an implication that kept her up at night, but that also did not stop her from occasionally making risky sojourns, like she was that very moment. A woman needed to cut loose every once and a while, after all.

Even the woman who was still sometimes referred to as the Avatar, in whispered tones, by those people who still had hope in such things. That was a title that made Korra wince even harder than the vampires’ title for her.

“Oh, have you now?” she finally asked. She kept her hand in her coat, fingers resting lightly on the metal stakes she kept handy for unexpected emergencies. If this was a younger vampire, then she had a chance, even one on one with no surprise.

If this was an older vampire, and hostile, she was dead.

Or worse, depending on the creature’s mood.

The shadows shifted slightly, and a woman’s form exited from the dark mist in front of her. Green eyes that glowed even though there was almost no light were the first thing Korra noticed.

The eyes made Korra relax slightly – only young vampires kept their original eye colour.

Then Korra saw the rest of the vampire as the mist parted, seemingly of its own volition. She was tall, and beautiful. Stunningly beautiful.

Korra moved the hand underneath her jacket slightly, and gently brushed her finger against her warning sigil. It was still cool, which meant that there was no glamour being used upon her.

This is who she is, without artifice.

This is who she was, when she was still human.

Plump red lips smiled softly, as if the owner of those lips was fully aware of the thoughts rushing through Korra’s mind. Long, black hair cascaded, to rest upon the pale skin of the vampire’s bare shoulders.

The vampire was wearing a long, black dress, split at one thigh at least, with stockings upon the leg that Korra could see. The low vee of the top of the dress emphasized flat stomach and the inner curve of breasts.

Korra blinked, and deliberately bit the inside of her cheek. It was a crude, but often effective way of clearing her head. Nothing changed in how the vampire looked, but Korra felt that she was perhaps a little less mesmerized by the vampire’s figure than she was before.

Even when a vampire wasn’t actively glamouring you, they were still glamouring you. They could stop doing it as easily as they could stop drinking blood.

“Yes,” the vampire answered, “I have. Your presence is well known for keeping the city calmer than it would be otherwise.”

“And that is good for vamps, of course,” Korra retorted. “A calm populace.”

Green eyes narrowed slightly, perhaps at the implications of what Korra had said, perhaps at the casual slur Korra had used, perhaps both. There was no way for Korra to tell.

“Is not peace more desirable than war?” the vampire asked.

“Blood runs in the streets,” Korra said, “and people do not dare go outside at night. How is that peace?”

Silence reigned for a moment. “I’m not here for debate,” the vampire finally declared.

“Then why are you here?”

The vampire looked away for a moment.

What? They never break eye contact.

“My name is Asami,” the vampire finally said as she looked back at Korra, “and I need your help.”

Korra just stared at her for a moment. Of all the things she had thought she might hear, that had not been on the list.

“You need my help?” she repeated back, sort of stupidly, in her own, somewhat harsh opinion.

Red lips smiled again. “Yes,” the vampire, Asami, repeated. “I need your help.”

The vampire looked around as if only now becoming aware of her surroundings. “I do not wish to discuss my needs here, of course.”

Her needs? Phrasing!

“Well, I’m not going to your place, wherever that is, nor am I inviting you into mine!” Korra objected.

“Of course not,” Asami replied. “There is a cafe open down the street to which we could perhaps retire. If that is acceptable to you, at least?”

A cafe. That was a fun euphemism.

The only places that were open at this time of night did not cater to human clients, after all. Regular bars and clubs that catered to humanity had faded away before Korra was born, after the war.

She had read once that the only thing more terrible than a battle won was a battle lost. She couldn’t remember who wrote it, but surely that person would have agreed that the concept applied even more to entire wars than it did to individual battles.

Keep the balance.

It was all she could do, in her small, pathetic way – that, and hope that someone, somewhere, somewhen, figured out how to restart the war, and this time win it.

She brought her attention back to the present, and noticed the vampire gazing at her. There was something different in her eyes, but Korra could not determine what.

“Hungry?” she asked, somewhat bitterly. A vampire this young probably no more remembered the war than she did. But the vampire got to enjoy her spoils any time she pleased.

In any way she pleased.

The fact that both of them were too young to remember the war was the only thing they had in common.

“Always,” the vampire answered with a slight smile, “but such is the nature of my kind, is it not? Still, the number of vampires who cannot exercise self-control is dwindling. And that can only be a good thing, do you not think?”

She turned, and Korra discovered that the vampire looked just as good from behind as she did from the front. Asami turned her head to look back at Korra out of the corner of her eye. “You never answered my question. Is a cafe an acceptable neutral ground?”

“You seem like you are overdressed for a cafe,” Korra finally answered. She had her anger, and her distrust... but she also had her curiosity. It wasn’t every day a vamp came asking her help.

It wasn’t any day that happened. At least before today.

Asami smiled again, and this time the smile seemed more genuine, if Korra was any judge. “As compared to you?” she asked.

Korra sneered as she looked down at her over-sized jacket and blood splattered pants. “I’m dressed for work,” she answered.

“Yes, well, the place I’m thinking of caters to all sorts,” the vampire, “from the refined, to the... not refined,” she ended simply.

“Alright,” Korra finally agreed, letting her curiosity overcome all the warning bells going off in the back of her mind. “If I have your word I will be safe, of course.”

This was the test, of course. Vampires lied all the time, of course, just like people, but when a vampire gave its word, nothing outside of death would prevent it from keeping it.

And considering they were vampires, sometimes death didn’t stop them, either.

If Asami didn’t give her word, or if she fudged it, then it would be time to see if a peaceful exit from the situation was still possible. It probably wouldn’t be, at that point, but still Korra would try.

The vampire turned to face Korra. “I pledge to you, Korra, Living Bridge, Avatar, that, for as long as you remain in my presence this night and upcoming morning, you are safe from harm from me, and that I will do my utmost to protect you from any other harm that might befall you.”

Once again, the vampire turned away, but this time she started walking, as Korra stood completely still, her mouth wide open. She had never heard of a vampire making such a complete promise before.

Ever.

“Fuck me,” she muttered. The thought of the power of Asami’s oath was enough to distract her from the titles the vampire had given her.

Asami chuckled. “That wasn’t part of the oath, I’m afraid.” She paused slightly, then continued walking. “This would be a good night for it, though, for you. Not many go into carnal relations with one of my kind with the guaranteed knowledge that they will walk out alive again.”

Korra started, then began following Asami. She needed to be in the vampire’s presence for the oath to remain in effect, after all.

“It was a figure of speech,” she said.

“Was it?” Asami asked back. “How disappointing.”

Once more, Korra bit the inside of her mouth, hard. There were few things that were safe to do with a vampire, even one that had given a seemingly ironclad oath. Flirting was definitely not one of those safe things.

The taste of copper filled her mouth, and Asami hesitated slightly in the middle of a step, then resumed her confident stride. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she walked.

You smell it. You smell the blood.

It only took a few minutes of walking and they reached what the vampire had called a cafe. The walk had been... quiet, Korra realized. The standard noise of the city had vanished near them.

Or near Asami, Korra admitted to herself.

The apex predator caused a hush in the concrete jungle, as lesser predators went still.

We used to be the apex predator.

Humanity.

But the war had been lost and the world had changed.

Now there was a new balance.

Wait. Did she call me Avatar?

Korra had known it was unlikely that her primary, human-oriented identity had been kept a secret from vampiric society, but for it to be used as part of an oath...

If she hadn’t been nervous already, now she would have been for sure.

A part of her wondered if she shouldn’t be terrified, rather than just nervous. Satisfying her curiosity didn’t seem nearly as important it had a few minutes ago.

Asami reached the door of the cafe and pulled it open. Then she stepped aside and gestured from Korra to the door. “After you.”

Korra stiffened her resolve, and stepped through the open door... into what looked like a quiet coffee shop. She paused and looked around.

This looks like... the past. Her eyes got blurry as she thought about a world she had only heard about, in dreams forced upon her by lives long gone.

“This used to be a common human thing, did it not?” Asami spoke from directly behind her. “Also, you are blocking the door.”

Startled, Korra took a couple of quick steps forward. There was a counter, with an attendant behind it. The man bowed as he noticed Asami enter the building. “How may I serve you, Mistress?” he asked.

Korra just looked over at Asami. Since she had been expecting nothing, except maybe bags of blood hanging from the ceiling, she shouldn’t be disappointed by how the attendant ignored her.

Yet still, for some reason, she was.

There is no fight left in the hearts of humanity.

The world has grown dark, and cold, and passed us by.

“Do you enjoy coffee?” Asami asked as she ignored the attendant’s greeting. It was her due, that greeting, simple acknowledgement of vampiric superiority, from a lesser being to a greater one.

Korra wondered if, in the years or decades since Asami had been turned, she, for a little while, had acknowledged the humanity from which she rose.

She used to be one of them.

One of us.

“I’ve never had it,” Korra responded simply and truthfully. Tea was far more common, and far easier to obtain.

“Nothing strong, then, I think. It takes a while to get used to the bitter flavour.” She turned to the attendant. “Two of the sweeter coffee drinks. Add alcohol to mine.” She turned and looked outside for a moment. “And close the shop up. I do not wish to be disturbed.”

Again, the attendant bowed. “As you desire, Mistress.”

“There is a private room in the back,” Asami said to Korra. “Follow me.”

Again, Asami led the way, and again, Korra enjoyed the view, even though she knew she shouldn’t.

The place was empty outside of the vampire, Korra, and the attendant.

“This place operates at a loss,” Asami said as she led the way to the back. “My father said it was a vain pursuit, and of no value to our family.” She shrugged very slightly as she entered the back room. “He was correct, of course. I knew that even as I argued firmly in favour of this place’s creation.”

There were comfortable looking couches in the private room, and Asami sat down on one of them. She gestured for Korra to sit across from her.

“Then why?” Korra asked after she had sat down.

“For the same reason I ordered alcohol to be added to my drink. For the experience. Even though I know the caffeine, and the sugar, and the toxins of the alcohol will have no impact on my body whatsoever, still I want to smell it. Taste it. Feel it.”

Green eyes stared deeply into Korra’s blue eyes.

“While I still can,” she finished.

There was silence for a moment, and the attendant brought them their drinks. He placed the one without alcohol in front of Korra, and the one with in front of Asami.

“You are dismissed for the night,” Asami ordered the attendant. “Leave us.”

The attendant bowed one last time, and left the room. He had not acknowledged Korra even once in the time they had been there, she realized. She wasn’t even sure the attendant had noticed her existence.

“You never offered me alcohol,” Korra said. Not that she would have taken it, but still.

Once more, Asami smiled.

Once more, that smile actually seemed genuine.

“Alcohol is harmful to humans,” she said. “To offer it to you would go against my oath.”

It was then that Korra did something she would never have dreamed she would do in front of a vampire.

She laughed.

It stopped quickly, but the fact that laughter existed in the first place shocked Korra to silence. She wondered if it shocked the vampire, too.

Korra looked at the hot beverage set on the table in front of her. It smelled good.

Delicious, even, in a way that she had been unaware even existed anymore.

“It is perfectly safe,” Asami said. “My oath demands it be.”

It wasn’t that, Korra knew. At this particular point of time, she was probably the safest she had ever been in Republic City.

“You said you needed my help,” she finally said as she continued to look at the hot beverage in front of her.

Asami took small sips of her drink, but said nothing else about Korra’s refusal to drink.

“There is no debt here,” the vampire finally said. “If anything, should you help me, it is I who will be indebted to you.”

“Help you with what?” Korra asked.

“My family is being targeted,” Asami responded. “By who or what we do not know.”

Now Korra took the mug into her hands. She leaned back against the cushions and took a sip.

Then another.

It tasted as delicious as it smelled.

Asami watched her drink intently.

“And?”

How is that my problem? Korra didn’t say it, but she suspected that the vampire heard it just the same.

“I do not expect you to care,” Asami said.

Oh, she heard it, alright.

“And if it stops with my family, or my kind, well, I would expect you would cheer the perpetrators on.”

“You’re fucking right about that,” Korra responded without thinking. She grimaced. That was pushing it, she knew.

“Rude,” Asami said, “but not unexpected.”

Korra shrugged. It was as close to an apology as she was willing to give.

“As I said,” Asami continued, “I do not expect you to care about the well-being of my family. I do, however, expect you to care about the well-being of this city, and its inhabitants.”

Korra sighed. “Stop me if you have heard this one before. Whatever group or faction that is going after you will cause a power imbalance among the vampire families, potentially leading to a war that will devastate Republic City.”

Asami tilted her head slightly. “Yes,” she finally stated. “That is succinct, and correct. You... do not care?”

Korra took another sip of the liquid heaven she held in her hands. To think that such a thing used to be commonplace.

“You’re young,” she began.

Asami raised an eyebrow.

“As vampires go,” she conceded.

“Which makes me far older than you.”

“Yes. But still young.” Korra took one hand off the mug and gestured around the room they were sitting in. “This place? A memorial for a time that is long gone. A requiem for a humanity that was taken from you decades ago.”

Korra leaned back and sipped the drink, and watched Asami watch her do so.

“You have barely taken sips of your drink,” Korra said, “and you have paid far more attention to my reaction than you have to your own. What does yours taste like to you? What feeling does it give you?”

Asami looked down at her beverage, and gave the briefest, almost smile. “Nothing,” she answered as she nodded, acknowledging the accuracy of Korra’s assessment.

“Young enough to wish that you could still enjoy some of the pleasures of your humanity, but old enough so that you cannot, not any more. Do you think you can go back?” Korra asked.

“Of course not,” Asami scoffed.

“Yet here we are. Sitting in a useless relic.” Korra paused for a moment. “You said before that you wanted to enjoy these things while you still could.”

“It was... recent,” Asami said. “That the changes happened. Sometimes I forget.”

“A candid admission.”

“Yes,” the vampire agreed. “I find myself speaking... easily with you. More so than I expected.”

“It’s my Water Tribe charm and stunning good looks,” Korra bragged with a smirk and a roll of her eyes.

“Of course,” Asami agreed, not even acknowledging Korra's poor attempt at humour. “But you never answered my question.”

“I didn’t, did I?” Korra answered. “Well, it’s simple. You see, your kind, vampires, vamps, blood-suckers, night children, night stalkers, whatever you want to be called... you won.”

Asami frowned but said nothing.

“You won the war,” Korra continued. “And now humanity is just penned cattle, waiting for the slaughter. So why should I care if your kind cause a war? If cattle is slaughtered more quickly. It’s the fate for all of us, anyway. Sooner or later.”

“Why not sooner, if it means we take a few of you with us?”

Chapter Text

Heat.

Heat that bore down mercilessly from the too bright sun.

Heat that rose in waves from the barren earth.

Heat that shimmered, and confused. Heat that could make far things seem close, and near things seem far.

Heat that could kill.

Oh yes, it could kill.

And it did. Often.

The woman stepping out of her old gas guzzling Satomobile (gas guzzling, but powerful, oh so powerful) didn’t need to see the bones that littered the side of the road to know that the heat could kill. But still she did see them.

Human. Animal. Some of the bones were obvious. Some less so.

There was a pile to the side of the road, just behind where she had stopped.

Perhaps a warning. Perhaps a marker.

To go further was to court death, was perhaps the message the bones were meant to convey.

But which way?

The foolish traveller would try to figure out in which direction the warning applied. Perhaps to the west, the direction in which she was going. Or perhaps to the east, the direction from which she had come.

The less foolish traveller would know that the direction didn’t matter. Every direction was death, in this land of dust and sand and sun.

The wise person, of course, wouldn’t be a traveller at all.

There had to be safety somewhere, didn’t there? Somewhere that someone wise would come across, and say to themselves and any who relied on them for protection that this was the place, and that they would need to go no further.

The woman reached back into her car and pulled out a partially full water skin. She squirted a small amount of water into her mouth, then closed the skin and put it back in her car. She had to make it last. Even when she was close to the location she presently called home, she still had to make it last.

Then she took the few steps necessary to reach the front of her car, and popped open the hood. Then she bent over so that she was at partially underneath the hood. Even with the heat of the engine, the shade was a welcome relief from the killing sun.

Even after all this time, the V8 engine and the supercharger gave her pleasure that few other things did. It made gas even more precious for her than it was for most of those few remaining people who used cars. Electric vehicles were all dead and gone, of course, as the infrastructure to keep them running just did not exist anymore.

Not that worrying about the environment was a priority for anyone anymore. It was far too late for that.

Far too late for anything, really.

A flicker of movement caught the attention of one her green eyes. Something still lived in the wasteland still. She watched, completely still, for a moment.

Eventually she saw it again.

A snake, just barely visible as its natural camouflage matched the sand and rock almost perfectly. Brown and tan and grey, it was an efficient predator, but nothing else. Nothing dangerous.

Not to her, anyway.

For a brief moment she thought about the throwing knives she had on her person. Snake could be good eating, but she had no way to keep the meat, and she had other priorities anyway. So instead she stayed still, and watched the snake slither past, as it looked for small rodents or bird eggs or whatever else it could find to eat.

There had to be something for it to eat, after all.

Somewhere.

Or why was it even here?

A smudge of dust on the horizon behind her car, in the direction she had come from, caught the woman’s eye. She waited for a few long seconds, as if she had not immediately seen the dust smudge, which was now a quickly growing dust cloud, before moving quickly, slamming the hood of her interceptor closed, then rushing back to the driver’s seat.

There was probably nobody watching to see her performance. But she had always liked to take the time to do things right, no matter what the circumstance. And extenuating circumstances such as these often made getting things done right more important than ever.

She turned the key that she had left in the car’s ignition, and listened to the engine come to life with a roar.

She smiled with satisfaction as her right foot came down on the gas and her left foot released her clutch. The car roared, and shot forward, and then her quick movements were reversed and then repeated as she shifted up.

It only took a few seconds before she was going over a hundred kilometres an hour, far faster than her usual cruising speed. She kept accelerating, and the dust rose behind her until she could no longer see her pursuers.

They were there, of course. Gaining on her, as they had the advantage of already being at speed.

Exactly as planned.

The woman’s eyes flickered from the road in front of her to the mirror and back again, over and over and over.

She had to be getting near to what she was looking for, she just needed to stay ahead of -

“Oh fuck!” she yelled as a boulder came flying out of the dust and over her car, just missing crushing her.

There was no time for her to wonder how they had managed to find an earth bender, she just had to hope that they didn’t have a metal bender, as well. She swerved around the boulder as it rolled to a stop in front of her.

It would be too much to hope that one of her pursuers crashed into it, she suspected.

The turn!

Without hesitation she turned her wheel right as she geared down, then back left again as she drifted and changed her facing by ninety degrees. It was the work of moments for her to get back up to top gear. Then she accelerated cross country.

Not that there was a huge difference between the road and the cross country terrain, but the road was less likely to have a boulder sticking out of it.

She glanced at her mirror, just in time to see one of her pursuers flip and roll as it tried unsuccessfully to match her turn. The vehicle came to a stop upside down, but was then lost to view as the dust hid the accident scene. The rest seemed to make it, but far more slowly than she had.

She grinned.

Still got it.

She drove quickly up to the top of a rise in the ground, all four of her wheels briefly leaving the ground as she topped the rise. It was not much further now.

Now.

She slammed her car to a skidding stop as she reached the edge of a ravine, so that now the car was facing back the way she had come. She jumped out of her car, but instead of going to the engine as she had before, now she went to the back.

The woman popped open the trunk, and pulled out a rifle from it. Then she ran away from the car and dove to the ground. She had only a few seconds to get herself and the rifle set, but she knew that was all she needed. She had owned the rifle she was holding for a long time, and had long known how to get the best out of it, in a very short time, if necessary.

Plus, she had helped design it.

She settled into as comfortable position as she could as she lay on the rocks and dirt, and extended the rifle with its bipod in front of her, releasing the safety that was nestled in the rifle’s trigger guard as she did so.

She was just in time, as the first pursuing vehicle topped the rise in front of her.

She fired a single shot, and a bullet hole appeared in the windshield of the first vehicle, on the driver’s side.

The vehicle jerked left as it slowed down, then jerked right again, before flipping and rolling off to the side, still over a hundred metres away from her.

She then shot at the second vehicle, but the results were not as dramatic.

Fuck.

She needed to move. The rest were getting too close, and there were also survivors climbing outside the flipped truck.

She rolled to the side behind a rock as bullets and a boulder impacted the space she had just been.

Then a giant white ball of fur topped the rise behind her pursuers and crashed into the nearest jeep, flipping it over.

There was a woman riding the giant ball of fur, and she was doing just as much damage as her companion, if not more.

Claws and teeth tore into the woman’s pursuers, as doors were ripped from vehicles and bites taken out of people.

Rocks exploded from the brown haired woman, in all directions, ruining engines and perforating bodies.

Fire blew through one vehicle, and caused its occupants to scream horrifically until the vehicle’s fuel tank exploded, and mercifully ending their torment.

The woman took another shot with her rifle at the driver of a slowly moving truck.

This one she got in the head. His compatriots had already exited the truck, so that vehicle would hopefully become a useful prize.

Shots from across the ravine led to more bodies falling, as the woman’s reinforcements added their contribution to the battle.

And so it went.

Until there was no one left to fight.

Until there was no one left to kill.

With some enemies, prisoners were not an option.

With some enemies, quarter was neither asked nor given.

Were there any other kind of enemies? Asami Sato wondered. She hoped so.

But with all the things she had seen since the bombs had dropped, she doubted it.

The brown haired woman, who wore her usual tank top and loose, light pants, jumped down off of her furry companion. She ignored the fallen bodies and broken vehicles, and walked up to Asami.

She also ignored the way her animal companion grabbed one of corpses, and dragged it off so that she could have a snack.

Keeping a polar bear-dog fed and healthy was no easy task these days, and the more the animal was allowed to take her own spoils of battle, the more food was left for everyone else.

Their little band had been fortunate, and had never had to go to such desperate lengths to keep themselves fed, but Asami knew of other groups that had made that choice, before their ends had come anyway.

“Korra,” Asami said softly.

“Hey love,” Korra responded. She walked right up to Asami and wrapped her wife in a tight hug. “Mission accomplished, I guess.”

“Yes,” Asami replied as the hug ended. She kept one arm wrapped around her wife’s waist. “We keep this up, and the world might be safe again in a few centuries.”

Men and women, previously hidden in the ravine, came out of hiding and starting combing over the bodies. Children, too. Any inclination people had once had to let the dead keep their belongings was long gone. Those who weren’t willing to take anything and everything that became available to them quickly became victims to those who were willing.

Korra turned her head and looked at Asami. “It’s happening,” she said.

Asami sighed. The ravine had an underground supply of fresh water. She had been keeping track of it, and had sounded the alarm several months back that the underground water levels were going down and were unlikely to come back up.

Part of the reason she had been out scouting was to see if there was one direction that looked more promising than any other. Unfortunately, she had found raiders, but nothing else.

And now Korra’s confirmation of the dropping water levels meant that the ravine, which they had hoped would become a permanent home (it was not like it rained often enough to worry about flash floods), was now just another way-point in their never ending quest for safety.

“We should be able to scrounge enough parts and supplies from the raiders to help us migrate,” she finally said. “But we still have no idea where we would migrate to.”

“Yeah,” Korra agreed simply.

It had taken them a long time to find this spot. Years. And they had lost a lot of good people along the way. Both in the finding of the location, and later in the protecting of it.

Mako, who had protected his brother to the end. Tenzin, who had never wanted to outlive his wife or youngest child. Ikki, who had rampaged to avenge her father, and allowed the rest of them to get clear as she did so.

And one other, though Asami would not let herself think about that loss. Not here. Not now.

And that was just those they had lost after the bombs fell.

The losses that had occurred when humanity had done its best to fulfill the conditions of the ultimate suicide pact were beyond all calculation.

The only question left, Asami knew, was whether or not the bombs had caused the near extinction of humanity, or whether it had caused the complete extinction, only slowly, and what they were doing now merely represented the last desperate thrashing of an already-dead animal.

If there was any way to gamble on that final question, she knew on which side she would put her money.

And yet...

She looked away from the carnage and the looting, and at her wife once more. She still had reasons to keep going, and the woman she was standing next to was the best of those reasons.

“The only thing more horrible than a battle won is a battle lost,” she said quietly.

Korra nodded, and forced herself to turn away from the bodies, as well. “Yeah, we did win. Now we just need to figure out a new place to go.”

There was grey in Korra’s brown hair, Asami realized, not for the first time, just as there was grey in her own. It was strange. Considering how infrequently she got to look herself in a mirror, outside of an occasional glance in a car mirror, that is, she wondered how far her internal perception of herself had drifted from the older reality.

There was still a part of her that thought that everything had stopped, all those years ago. She had held Korra’s hand and walked into the spirit portal with her, and then things had stopped, and thus they had stayed, young and perfect with nothing but hope for the future.

“You alright?” Korra asked as she looked up at Asami.

“Never better,” Asami answered with a smile.

And was she even lying? After all, she still had life and some love, even in the wasteland of the desolate present.

And how many people could say the same?

-------

It was a sombre group that gathered around central fire that evening. Like so many deserts, it was often scorching hot during the day, but near freezing cold at night.

And firewood, like everything else, was hard to find. And only getting harder.

“Come on, people!” Bolin called out. “Yes, the water situation is bad, but we were going to have to think about leaving anyway! There’s a reason this is the first big communal fire we’ve had in a month, after all.”

After Mako had died, Bolin had expanded into a greater role in the community, both for his family and for the entire group. While Korra was obviously looked to as the Avatar, and Asami was kept busy in her engineering, battle planning, and scouting roles, neither one of them was considered the leader of their little band.

That honour went to Bolin.

Asami and Korra sat down next to Opal, who had her and Bolin’s youngest child with her, as the boy was still nursing.

“How are you holding up?” Korra asked Opal as she sat between the two other women.

Young Mako cried out as if to answer, and Opal sighed. Then she pulled down her top and winced as her son latched onto one breast.

“I’m holding up,” Opal answered as she looked down at her son. “It will be tough on those of us with young kids when we have to move.”

Both Korra and Asami nodded in response, and both ignored Opal’s wince as she realized what she had said. They needed to focus on the troubles to come, and not the tragedies of the past.

For the fact of the matter was, nobody wanted to move again, no matter what their personal responsibilities were. And they all knew it would be far harder on the very young and the very old than it would be on anyone else.

The odds that they would make it to a new location, somewhere, anywhere, without burying people along the way were so low as to be non-existent.

More people, that is.

But still it had to be done.

The three of them turned their attention to Bolin again. He was reassuring people as they needed it, and seeing everyone, and making them all feel better. It was what he did.

“I’m surprised there aren’t more objections,” Asami said. It was rare to see people so agreeable to doing what they had to do, instead of what they wanted to do.

Opal shook her head. “You shouldn’t be. You warned us this was likely almost half a year ago. Anger has had lots of time to turn to acceptance since then.”

“And I knocked a few heads together,” Korra added with a laugh. “There had been the bare beginnings of a coordinated movement to oust Bolin while you were gone scouting, but between my Avatar-sized threats and Opal’s sweet reason, we managed to nip that in the bud real quick.”

“Your reputation didn’t hurt either, Asami,” Opal added. “Often, we just had to ask them when was the last time you were wrong about something important. They couldn’t answer.”

Asami only smiled softly in response.

The last time she had been wrong about something important...

She could think of a time. A time just before the missiles flew and the bombs dropped. And she had been so sure that they would win, and everything would be fine, because before that they had won and everything had been fine. Every. Single. Time.

But she had been wrong. They didn’t win.

And nothing was fine.

Not even close.

She had known that the remnants of the Red Lotus were out there, and potentially dangerous. But no intelligence she had ever seen had indicated that they had gotten their hands on spirit vines or that they intended to weaponize them.

So they had gone after the Red Lotus once the information had been acquired that the Red Lotus was involved in spirit vine weapon proliferation. Only to find out too late that the Red Lotus hadn’t created the spirit vine bombs, they had merely stolen them.

Stolen them from Zaofu and Republic City, who then got tricked into launching their missiles at one another.

And at everyone else.

It had taken Asami a long time to accept that she had been helpless to stop what happened after it had started. It had taken Korra even longer. In some ways, Asami was fairly sure that Korra had never accepted it.

Just as Opal had never completely accepted that it was her mother who was one of the people most responsible for the end of the world. She believed it, and she knew it to be true, but she had never truly accepted it.

Asami hoped, for the sake of Opal’s children, if nothing else, that Opal would eventually figure out how to live with the burden her mother had left for her. Some things did not need to be passed on.

“I’ll rest up tonight,” Asami said, “do some maintenance on Ms B tomorrow, then head out tomorrow night.”

Korra frowned, and Opal shook her head. “No,” Opal said. “You were gone for over a month. You need to debrief, we need to plan this out, and most importantly, you need to rest!”

Korra nodded in agreement. “We’re not out of water yet. We can take the time to do this right, still.”

Asaim glared at her wife, but said nothing in response. Korra knew the exact thing to say to get her to slow down. And she appreciated it.

It just aggravated her in the moment.

Korra stood up and reached down to offer Asami her hand.

Asami’s gaze softened, and she took the offered hand so that Korra could pull her up.

“Come on,” Korra said. “Let the talkers talk and Bolin shake babies and kiss hands.” She paused for a moment with a fake look of confusion. “I got that backwards, didn’t I?”

Both Opal and Asami laughed. Opal closed her top up again and burped her near sleeping baby. She looked up at Asami. “You look even more tired than I feel,” she said. “Get out of here, you two. I’ll let Bolin know he can talk to you tomorrow, but not until then, and not too early. Then I’m going to sleep as well.” She looked down once more at her son, now asleep in her arms. “For as long as he’ll let me, at least.”

Both Asami and Korra looked down at the sleeping baby, their faces sombre. They were proud to be aunts to all of Opal and Bolin’s kids, and Mako certainly deserved to have his name remembered.

But the baby was also a constant reminder of all those they had lost.

Asami blinked her eyes as memory briefly washed over her. She grabbed Korra’s hand.

“We’re getting old,” Asami said after they had wished Opal a good night and had left the central meeting area. Earth bent into the cliff side, the area was a temperature controlled as they could make it, as were all of the individual “apartments,” for lack of a better term.

“Are we?” Korra asked as they slowly made their way back to their living quarters.

Korra’s hand felt so good in her own after so long away.

“We think more on the past than on the future,” Asami answered. “If that’s not a sign of aging, what is?”

“Our grey hair and fucked up knees,” Korra instantly responded.

Asami laughed. “Okay, those too.”

They reached their apartment and Korra opened the door for both of them. “There’s water for a shower,” she said with a shy smile. “For both of us.”

“A shower?” Asami couldn’t remember the last time she had had a shower.

“I was careful with my water ration,” Korra said. “I do have an advantage when it comes to making water go further, after all.”

Water bending, Asami thought. Was Korra the last water bender? Or did some remnant of the water tribes still exist?

“Then we should save that water for when we really need it,” she said.

“You really need it right now,” Korra replied. “And so do I.” She looked down at the floor. “I need you.”

Asami reached out with one hand and gently pushed Korra’s chin up so that Korra was looking at Asami again.

“Then heat us a shower, Avatar,” she said gently.

Korra grinned, and quickly made her way to the bathroom of their apartment. In many ways, it was a bathroom in name only. Water was far too precious to waste on indoor plumbing. Everyone got a monthly allotment for cooking, sponge baths, laundry, and any other use they could think of.

If they ran out ahead of time, then there were consequences.

Asami looked at the water level of their tank. Despite it being almost the end of the month, it was near full. She looked over at Korra, who looked down and shrugged slightly.

Asami reached over and pulled Korra into a tight hug. “Love, you don’t have to stop living just because I’m gone.”

“Don’t I?” Korra asked as if what Asami had said was ridiculous and obviously wrong.

“Arms up,” Asami said as she ignored Korra’s most recent words. They needed to have a... discussion, about a lot of things, Asami thought, but now. Definitely not now.

Korra obeyed and lifted her arms, so that Asami could pull Korra’s top over her head. Underneath was Korra’s breast wrap, the standard undergarment of any person with enough breast size to make restraint worthwhile.

Bras were a thing of the past, after all, unless an untapped cache was found of preserved, prewar clothing.

Slowly, Asami reached around Korra and removed the wrap, one layer at a time, until Korra’s breasts sprang free. Gravity and time had taken their toll on them, as well as one other thing, but they still took Asami’s breath away, every time.

As did the rest of Korra.

Every time.

Asami lifted her arms in return, and Korra returned the favour.

The light in Korra’s eyes as Asami’s smaller breasts became exposed let Asami know that Korra still felt the same about her, even after all these years, far better than words could.

They both finished undressing, then Korra water bent a hot, steamy shower for the both of them. The muscles in Korra’s back and thighs rippled as she performed the dance necessary for successful water bending.

Asami watched her wife water bend, and fell in love all over again, as she had done so many times before.

They both stepped into the shower area, and were instantly drenched in sweat. Korra earth bent a thin chunk of stone from the wall, then smoothed it out and gave it an edge. Asami stood still as Korra ran the stone over Asami’s skin.

Dirt and sweat and body hair were all removed quickly and efficiently, though Korra may have taken extra time on some spots more than others.

Breasts and buttocks were obvious places to spend more time. And certainly Korra would be spending much more time on Asami’s increasingly wet centre as the night progressed. But for now, in the shower, it was the scars that Korra spent the most time on.

Scars from a car crash. A scar from a knife. Two scars, matching, on Asami’s stomach and back, where a bullet had passed through. Korra spent more time on that one, as if to acknowledge how close Asami had come to death. Only the fact that Korra had been right there to heal her had kept her alive.

Then it was Asami’s turn to do the same for Korra. To wash, and to clean, and to shave, though there was one part of Korra’s body that Asami did not give as much attention to, as much as she wished she could. It was attentive, and worshipful, what they did for one another, any chance that they could.

And Asami knew exactly how it would end.

Not that she was complaining.

Chapter Text

Korra looked at her three captors calmly. Or as calmly as she could, anyway. What hit me? It fucking hurt! It still really hurt, in fact. Hit actually seemed like an understatement, as whatever-it-was actually went right through her. If that had hit me in a slightly different place... she shuddered. The pain in her muscle was bad enough, but if whatever it was had hit bone...

Enough! Korra knew better than to go down a spiral of what-ifs. That could lead to a very bad head-space. She focused on her primary captors again. The two younger woman were obviously together, while the blue haired one was almost certainly related to the older one. A mother and daughter, perhaps.

Those relationships established, or at least established enough that she was no longer curious, and the pain in her arm somewhat manageable, left Korra the energy to wonder what would happen next. Well, they got me... now what are they going to do with me? They were talking with one another, but she could no more understand them than they could, she presumed, understand her.

Obviously having come to some decision, the pink haired one came over and offered Korra her arm to help her up. Is that a dye, or her natural colour? Not that it mattered, but it would definitely be something to tell Asami. Outside of Huan and Ginger, and that bandit she and Asami had fought that one time, Korra couldn’t think of anyone in their world who had coloured hair. Here, on the other hand, it seemed common.

Reaching out with her good hand, Korra grabbed on and pulled herself up. The woman then gently grabbed the back of her good arm, to guide her and keep her from taking off, Korra assumed. I could probably take them, she thought, even without bending. Asami definitely could. She was injured, though, and while these three were close enough to incapacitate, there were all of the other people, all of whom had those dangerous weapons. And some dogs, too. They were just dogs, though.

Naga would make nice snacks out of them.

As they walked, Korra was very grateful they hadn’t bound her hands. She would have face-planted, tripping over roots and rocks, more than once if she couldn’t balance herself. Not that she wouldn’t try to get away the first chance she thought it viable. She was grateful, not stupid.

After about a half-hour of walking through the forest, they came to a clearing, where some kind of flying machine waited. Oh, I better pay attention. Asami would want all the details she could remember.

She continued walking with her captors as they approached the dirigible. It was only when they got to a uniformed man who quickly latched handcuffs onto her wrists, behind her back, that she realized that she maybe paid a bit too much attention to the airship. Well shit. That’s embarrassing. Plus having her hands cuffed behind her made her shoulder hurt more. Korra sighed as she went into the airship. Escape would now be a bit more difficult.

Korra stood quietly as the three women discussed something with one another. What to do with me, most likely. Hmmm, maybe...

Without hesitation, Korra moved against the nearest wall and sat down onto the floor in a cross-legged position. She only hoped that her passive demeanour would keep them from restraining her to the wall or floor. She couldn’t count on the airship being built down to Cabbage Corp standards, after all.

“Now that’s just shoddy workmanship,” Asami had stated quietly when the non-bender had facilitated their escape from the Earth Queen’s forces.

Korra smiled at the memory, but then frowned. She really hoped that Asami waited for her to make it back, and didn’t attempt to mount a rescue. No one person could ever be valuable enough to start a war over.

All three of the women went silent, and looked at her. They were perhaps a little impressed, Korra imagined, that she had sat down in such a fashion without the use of her still handcuffed hands. They then, after a further, brief moment of conversing, seemed to come to some sort of agreement, as the older woman went to another part of the airship, perhaps where the pilot would be, Korra. The two younger woman stayed with her, both of them leaning against the opposite wall of the airship, and against each other.

It worked , she thought. Of course, I can’t see where the airship is going sitting down here, but I can’t have everything. Plus, she thought she knew a way to get around that, too. For now, it might be time to meditate, and consider her options. She just had to make sure she didn’t fall asleep. She didn’t want to wake up even further from the portal than she was already!

-------

It seemed to Korra that she had hardly begun meditating when she heard the voice: Korra!

Raava? It’s so good to hear from you! Korra paused. I’m not asleep and dreaming, am I?

No, Korra, you are not asleep. You might someday almost remember this time as a dream, but it is not.

The portal, it took us to another world? Korra asked.

Another universe, Raava responded. And that is why you have been unable to bend here so far.

Another universe, she thought with wonder. What did that even mean? She wasn’t even sure that Asami would know that.

That was idle speculation, though, and of no importance at present. The second part of what Raava had said, however, that was more interesting.

So far? Korra frowned. What does that mean?

It means that things are different here, but not that different. You would not be able to breathe if this place was too different, among other problems. But fortunately it is not too different, so with effort, you should be able to bend, at least a little.

Well, won’t that surprise them, Korra thought. From the little she had seen, the inhabitants of this place had a large number of tricks up their sleeves, but she doubted bending was known to them.

Indeed. Concentrate on your surroundings, Korra. I have no doubt you will figure it out.

Korra’s eyes snapped open, but she did not see her surroundings. Instead, she felt them. I can feel and breathe the air – surely I can bend it? She remained cross-legged and extended her senses. She could feel the air move in and out of her lungs. She could feel the slight movements around her as she breathed and her muscles trembled. She could feel the two lovers across from her move closer into each other’s embrace. She could feel the circulation of the air in the airship, and the rush of wind as it picked up speed. She could feel the weird mixture of air from two different worlds where the portal was.

She breathed a sigh of relief. The portal was not too far away.

She could feel... everything.

There was metal in the airship she could bend; there were little bits of water, too (she ignored the fact that people are primarily water – that ability was banned for a reason). She ignored fire, too, for the moment, since she had nothing against her captors, and burning them seemed like bad form. Air, metal, and water should be enough to get her a chance to get out of there.

Korra relaxed her senses, and let the room come back into focus. The first thing she saw was the two women staring at her intently. What? Why? She stiffened as she came to a realization, then forced herself to relax again. My eyes were glowing, weren’t they? Inconvenient that they noticed, but a good sign that she would be able to bend herself out of her present predicament.

The two women discussed something, then started to stand up, the pink-haired one helping to pull the other to her feet, and Korra acted. Pushing off with her hands, a little burst of air (yes!) helped her jump up, bringing her legs up to chest as she jumped, so she could bring her hands in front of her before she landed again. The pink-haired woman’s eyes widened as Korra ran forward, knocking her right shoulder into the woman so she stumbled onto her girlfriend.

Using another brief (so weak, but so much better than nothing!) burst of air to keep her balance, she ran towards the viewing port she had previously noted, and looked to see how hard breaking open an exit would be. Adrenaline helped the pain in her shoulder fade into the background. The pain was still there, but not even worth thinking about, it had receded so much.

Her senses noted the two women untangling themselves and going towards a chest in the middle of the room. That can’t be good. No time to waste!

She started trying to bend a gap in the airship, but then ducked as she felt movement way too close to her. The pink-haired one had a giant glove on one hand and looked like she knew what to do with it. The blue-haired woman stood slightly further away, with one of those long-ranged weapons aimed directly at her.

Dammit!

Before she could regret her action, Korra spun away from both of them, but in a direction that put the pink-haired one in between Korra and the other woman. That glove looked like it could put a hole in someone. Or something, she realized. I need to goad her.

Korra reversed her direction, spinning just within what she hoped was punching range, then darting back out again, making sure to keep out of the other one’s line of sight. The pink-haired one tried to grab her, but didn’t seem interested in punching her. Annoyingly considerate.

She heard the click of the door opening behind her and flipped, using air to boost her over the man who was lunging towards where she had been. She landed and before he could even begin to turn towards her, she kicked out and launched him towards the pink haired woman, bowling them both over. Of course, that gave blue-hair a clear shot. Whoops!

Before her opponents could react, she jumped through the door and slammed it behind her. If blue-hair had had enough time to take a shot, Korra was glad that the other woman had forgone the opportunity. She couldn’t imagine she would be as fortunate as she was the first time if she got hit again.

That won’t hold them at all , she thought as she bolted down the stairs. She reached out to the metal of this part of the airship. Got it! And just in time.

The door at the top of the stairs flew open and pink-hair almost flew through the gap, jumping down the entire flight of stairs and crashing into some boxes at the bottom. Korra firmed her stance and bent a hole bigger than she was in the side of the room, opening the airship to the sky. She walked up to the edge and looked out to make sure there were no propellers underneath the airship, then turned to see both pink-hair and now blue-hair, as well, looking on, mouths agape.

Korra bowed slightly, then straightened up again. “Ladies,” she said, and then jumped out, still facing them, while giving them the finger. She laughed at their shock, and with exhilaration. I should jump out of one Asami’s airships sometime ! She spun and looked, and everything was beautiful . Blue sky, ranging from light to dark, wisps of clouds, a bright warm sun. Amazing. She could see a city in the distance, and vast numbers of airships heading towards it. Forests, and mountains, and then, below her... war. There was fighting at the portal. Her exhilaration left as quickly as it had arrived.

Shit. Asami... I love you so much, but I wish you had waited.

She spread her arms and legs wide to slow herself as much as possible while she fell, and felt her surroundings. They had not been very high or going very fast, so she didn’t have to worry about spinning, but she also didn’t have a lot of time. She found the portal, and aimed towards it as she fell, little puffs of air guiding her in the correct direction, alternating with bursts designed to keep her vertical speed below a killing velocity.

Only a few more seconds. She turned onto her left side, making sure that she was avoiding the rock field that surrounded most of the gate, and, just before impact, created a bubble of air below her, almost like an air shield.

Oh shit! Wrong si-

Chapter Text

The twelfth floor of the newest Future Industries tower was everything the owner of said company had been looking for in a building; this was a good thing, since she had been the one who designed the building. It was open, except for a large corner room, which was the owner’s office. The office had one solid interior wall; the other interior wall was glass. The open area had multiple workbenches, welding gear, and a variety of other tools. A partially assembled hummingbird VTOL flying craft took up much of one corner; various other projects took up other workbenches.

In the office, Asami Sato rubbed her eyes and wished it was the weekend. She was going over documents, facing away from the windows, which were presently shuttered closed, to conserve energy, with the exception of one, which strangely could be opened from both the inside and the outside. Asami loved her company and the challenges it presented, but some weeks were all about design and new creations, whereas others, like the one she was presently enduring, were all about meetings, finances, and paperwork.

She was really sick of paperwork.

With an exasperated sigh, she took a bite of the sandwich her assistant had brought up to her from the cafeteria in the first floor of the building, and re-interned herself in the dusty confines of financial forecasts, industry reports, and government regulations.

New safety regulations for passenger vehicles – still weaker than Future Industry standard.

Market forecast – a new Earth Kingdom line was making inroads, but mainly impacting Cabbage Corp sales numbers. Something to keep a tab on, but nothing urgent yet.

An industry report scoffing at concern for the impact of mass adaptation of Satomobiles and other personal transportation – pollution, infrastructure deficit, and congestion were three major potential impacts mentioned, but apparently there were more.

Asami frowned. She was working on something that would (hopefully!) mitigate at least one of those concerns, which were important to her even if they meant nothing to whoever had written the report. She moved the report into a different pile, to be considered in the future, and not just by her. Someone, she couldn’t remember who, had once said that great power and great responsibility went hand-in-hand. Or something like that. The older she got, the more important that saying became to her. She had seen too many times the consequences of power without responsibility.

A bang against the window behind her interrupted her thoughts. The window opened behind her and she smiled. There were a few people it could possibly be, but only one was likely. She didn’t turn, but instead asked “Did you make an appointment? There’s a whole system for that, you know.”

A slight chuckle, and warm arms and hands reached around her from behind and wrapped themselves around her. “I’m afraid I forgot to do that. Should I come back later, Mrs Sato? At an appointed time, perhaps?”

Asami leaned her head back and looked up at the blue eyes staring down at her. “For you, I think we can make an exception, Mrs Sato. I must extract a price, however.” She reached up, and pulled her wife’s face down towards hers. They kissed, and Asami sighed contentedly. Negotiation successful, and far better than more paperwork.

“So,” Asami said, straightening herself up and tying her hair back as the kiss ended far too soon, “what’s the occasion? I wasn’t expecting to see you until I got home.”

Korra frowned, and didn’t say anything for a moment. The fact that she hadn’t made a comment about not needing an occasion to see her wife was not lost on Asami.

“Come on,” Asami continued, “let’s walk around my workshop floor. The office feels a bit warm.” She winked at Korra. “Probably something to do with the smoking hot Avatar who just flew in.”

Korra looked around in fake confusion. “Smoking hot?! Where? I want to meet her!”

“Jerk,” Asami laughed. “I guess I need a mirror in my office for when you want to check yourself out.”

“Nah,” Korra responded, smirking and... flexing, Asami noticed. “Why check myself out when I can watch you checking me out.” Asami flushed. “Busted!” Korra leaned in and gave her another kiss. “Besides,” she continued, with a blush of her own, “you’re not the only one who likes checking out her wife.”

Asami shivered all over. “Right,” she said, grabbing Korra by the hand. “Forget the workshop. I know there’s something, but I’m sure whatever it is can wait just a little while.” She reached into one of her desk drawers, grabbed a remote, and passed it to Korra. “Press the big green button.”

Korra looked down at the remote suspiciously. “Are you sure? I’m not really a tech sort of gal.”

Asami ran the fingers of one hand over Korra’s bare left arm. “Press the button, love.”

“Okay,” Korra responded, slightly shaky in her tone.

Korra pressed the button, and blinds started descending the interior office glass wall. From the one solid wall, a hidden panel opened and a bed descended onto the floor, the base stopping almost right at Korra’s feet. She looked at it, wide-eyed.

Asami was just happy it had worked as it was supposed to – this was the first time she had the opportunity to make use of it.

“Did you design this for if you need to sleep at the office?” Korra asked. Asami could hear confusion in her voice.

Without warning, Asami gave Korra a slight shove, causing her to collapse backwards onto the bed. Hiking her skirt slightly, she climbed on top of Korra and straddled her.

Asami looked down at Korra, and lightly brushed Korra’s cheek with her fingers.

“No, my love. No I did not.”

-------

“Sooooo,” Asami said to the top of Korra’s head, which was presently resting against Asami’s chest. “Ready to tell me what’s going on?”

“Sleepy,” was all the response she got.

“No!” She responded sharply. “You’ll never get any sleep tonight if you do that.”

“Mean.”

“Aw, poor little Avatar. Has the meanest wife ever.” She ran her fingers over Korra’s bare arm. “Must have been why you were screaming my name a few minutes ago. Because of how mean I am.”

“Mhmm- wait, what, no!” Korra raised her head and blew hair out of her eyes. She pouted. “I just didn’t want to move, that’s all. You’re very comfortable.” Asami giggled.

“Mean but comfortable, huh?”

“Whatever!” Korra responded, rolling her eyes. She pushed herself upright and sat facing Asami. “You’re right, though, there is something. Potentially a big something- hey! My eyes are up here!”

Asami, who had been unabashedly staring at Korra’s bare chest, looked up, winked, and then lowered her gaze again. “I made my choice.”

Korra turning a bright shade of pink was exactly the response Asami had hoped for. Another half hour wouldn’t make that much difference, would it? She asked herself as she grabbed Korra and dragged her close again.

-------

After getting outside and going for a walk, the pair were now sitting on a bench in Avatar Korra park; the cool autumn morning had shifted into a warm afternoon. It was interesting, Asami thought, how Korra always managed to angle herself so that she didn’t have to look at her own statue, no matter where in the park they were sitting.

“Okay, we are out of your office, sitting in the sunshine, with food, in public. No more distractions,” Korra said.

Asami thought about teasing her some more but decided against it. She nodded for Korra to continue as she slurped some noodles.

“You see that?” Korra asked, pointing at the column of light that dominated inner Republic City. Asami just raised one eyebrow and continued eating. It had to be a rhetorical question.

“There’s been a discovery. It’s not another spirit portal.” Korra sighed. “But it is like a spirit portal. A... regular portal? Or a window. If that makes sense.”

Asami cocked her head and thought for a moment.

“A closed window? Or an open one?”

“There’s evidence animals have gone through.”

“Open, then. Who discovered it?”

“Hikers. When they got back to the city, they told the police. Lin told Tenzin. Tenzin told me. There should be air benders guarding it by now, with police on the way.”

Asami nodded. “Okay, that’s good.” She stood up, her food forgotten. “Let’s get back to the apartment. We have to plan and pack for a trip. Also, I need to let the office know I won’t be in tomorrow, and possibly longer than that.” Korra nodded in agreement and stood up, as well. She grabbed Asami’s takeout container as well as her own, causing Asami to blush slightly.

“Thanks love.”

“No worries.” Korra winked. “Avatar Waste Removal, at your service.” Asami laughed.

“Oh,” Asami said, as they started to head back home. “I know we should have probably gotten onto this portal thing earlier, but I’m really glad we didn’t.” She smiled at Korra, who smiled back.

“That makes two of us.”

-------

“I thought we were going to the mansion,” Korra said, as Asami took a sharp right onto a road with a sign that said “Private. Authorized Personnel Only.”

“To the estate, I said,” Asami responded. “How many times have you been here again?”

Korra shrugged. “I usually fly.”

“Fair point.” Asami eased off the gas as she rolled her light blue roadster up to a security gate. It was a sunny morning, but once again there was a chill in the autumn air. Asami had the car’s top down regardless.

She lowered her sunglasses and smiled at the security guard in his booth. “Good morning...” She squinted at the guard’s name tag. “...Wan, is it?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Sato.” He nodded as he pushed the button to open the gate. “Yes, ma’am, that’s me.”

“New here?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” he repeated. “Just finished training last week.”

“That’s great.” The gate finished opening, and Asami pushed her sunglasses back over her eyes. “Well, nice to meet you, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. I hope you enjoy working here!”

“Um, thank you, ma’am!” With that, Asami drove forward, her shifting as precise as everything else she did. Korra waved at the guard as they went by, and it almost looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head. Korra laughed.

“What is it, babe?”

“He was so focused on you, he only just now realized who your passenger is.” They both laughed together.

“Well,” Asami said, “you may be the Avatar, but I’m the boss.”

“Did you mean it?” Korra asked. “When you said not to hesitate to ask.”

“Of course!” Asami responded. “Not that I let any random employee barge into my office, but many of the things that make Future Industries a highly rated place to work for came about because I actually listen to my employees.” She paused a moment to organize her thoughts, as she parked the roadster in front of one the Future Industry aircraft hangars. Turning off the engine, she turned to face Korra.

“No one person has all the ideas. Or all the answers. I set priorities for my company. When things are going well, other people are making sure those priorities are realized, and I get to design and build, or do Team Avatar stuff.” She sighed. “Or take meetings and do paperwork.”

“Sometimes, however,” she continued, “there are issues that come up, that cannot or do not get resolved by people below me in the company hierarchy. Then I have to get involved. We don’t have many of those, or at least not as many as we have had in the past.”

She got out of the car, as did Korra. Korra grabbed her glider, which had been sticking out of the back seat. Asami gestured for Korra to follow her to the hangar.

“There actually is a big issue,” Asami said, “but it’s a long term one. I’ll want to have your input on it, after we get through this newest crisis.”

“Happy to help,” Korra said, then paused. “We’re calling it a crisis already?”

Asami put her hand on Korra’s shoulder. “An open window to... where, exactly? To what, exactly? To whom, exactly? We have no idea. Yes, I’d say that’s a crisis.” She grabbed Korra’s hand and led her into the gigantic hangar. “Let’s just hope it is not already a catastrophe.”

Asami took off her sunglasses and waited for their eyes to adjust to the dimmer light in the hangar. She gestured towards a large machine, sitting on its own. “And this is the major project I’ve been working on, since things have been going well.”

Korra just stopped and stared, mouth slightly open in awe. “What the heck is that?”

-------

Korra followed Asami as she walked around the aircraft, checking off items on a clipboard as she examined the machine. It was sleek, but strange, she thought. Only one wing, propellers pointing upwards. Much bigger than previous aircraft she had seen.

“It’s a VTOL aircraft. Vertical Take Off and Landing,” Asami explained. “Good for carrying people and cargo quickly. Not as economical as a train, of course, but it can get where they cannot.”

“What’s it called?” Korra asked.

Asami frowned. “Not sure yet. This is the prototype. So far it just has a project code name, but that’s just a couple of random words strung together.” She looked up from her checklist and noticed Korra’s confused look. “Industrial sabotage and theft are real things. We give code names to every project, no matter what they are, so that there’s nothing to differentiate the significance of one project from another.”

“Huh,” Korra said. “Weird.”

Asami snorted as she finished up her checklist. “Yes, it is weird. A lot of business practices are. Alright, everything looks good. Let’s get onboard and give this thing a proper field test.” She led them both to the rear of the aircraft and up the lowered ramp. Inside were a variety of boxes, some sort of small wheeled vehicle, and other things, almost none of which Korra could identify.

“We’ve got camping gear, survival equipment, food and potable water, an all terrain vehicle, and a new type of camera. Plus extra parts and tools for the aircraft, of course,” Asami said.

“Well, of course!” Korra grinned as she said it. If it had been up to her, they would have just ridden Naga up to the site. She didn’t get a chance to see up close and personal how Asami was moving the world forward as often as she would like. She was looking forward to being a passenger.

Asami pointed towards a rack along one side of the aircraft’s fuselage. “You can lock your glider into place there, that way it’s secure for the flight.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Korra responded, doing as instructed.

Rolling her eyes at her wife, Asami hit a button to raise the ramp behind them. She then led them forward into the cockpit, where instead of one seat or a pair of seats in tandem, as Korra had seen in the past, there were two seats, side-by-side. “Pilot’s seat on the left, copilot’s on the right.”

“Copilot?” Korra gulped. “If you want me to pilot, you shouldn’t have had me lock up my glider.”

“Relax, love,” Asami responded, smiling and taking Korra’s hand. “The aircraft flies just fine with only one pilot. You’re just a passenger on this flight. In fact,” she said, looking a little more serious now, “I need you to promise me you won’t touch any of the controls unless I say otherwise. All of the controls, buttons, dials, levers, everything you see, are fully active.”

“I absolutely, completely, totally promise to touch nothing!” Korra responded fervently as she sat down. There were a lot of controls, buttons, dials, levers and whatever else things. How does she keep track of them all?

Asami took a headset down from the ceiling of the aircraft and put it over Korra’s head; she did the same with the headset above the pilot’s seat. “Once we have power, your headset will talk to me. It will be loud. I’ll be talking to you and the tower.”

“The tower?” Korra asked.

“I’ll explain on the way,” Asami responded. She flicked a toggle and many of the buttons lit up. After checking one gauge, she flicked another toggle. “Tower, this is Future Industries One. Please open Hangar One and clear our airspace. Priority A.” She paused. “That is correct. Thank you tower.”

The giant hangar doors opened ahead of them as Asami powered up the aircraft. “Check out the propellers.” Korra looked out the window and gasped. The propellers, which had been horizontal, were now tilting downwards. They stopped and locked into place when they were vertical, more like a normal airplane.

“Okay, that’s cool.”

“When the engines are horizontal, like they are now, the aircraft is configured for normal flight,” Asami explained as she taxied out of the hangar, towards the main runway. “When they are vertical, the aircraft can hover in place, or takeoff and land vertically. We’re going to do a normal takeoff today. It’s more fuel efficient.”

“Damn,” Korra said softly. Every time I think I get a handle on what she’s accomplished... “Wait, what was that other stuff you said? Future Industries One and Priority A? This isn’t the first Future Industries aircraft, that’s for sure.” Korra peered at Asami. Is she blushing?

“Give me a moment.” She flipped a toggle. “Tower, F.I. One is ready for takeoff. Any changes to the weather report?” She paused, listening. “Roger that. Thank you, tower. Have a great day.” With that, Asami pushed a lever forward, and the aircraft started to accelerate down the runway. Korra was really glad for her headphones, as it was really loud. After a brief time Asami pulled back on the wheel in front of her, and the aircraft took off. Korra watched enthralled as the ground receded underneath her. There was a clunking sound, but when Korra turned to ask Asami about it, she could see her wife was unconcerned.

“Alright, lady, talk,” Korra demanded.

Asami laughed, startled.

“And what was the clunking sound?” she asked.

“The clunking sound was the landing gear retracting. It’s still there, the aircraft is just more efficient when there are less things breaking the airflow. As for your other questions, Future Industries One isn’t a particular aircraft, it’s whatever aircraft that I’m in.”

“Ooohhh,” Korra responded with a wink, “I think we need an ego check here. And the other? Priority Asami?” she said, chuckling.

“A is for Avatar,” Asami responded, trying to keep a straight face.

“Should be Priority TA, then” Korra responded, “for Team Avatar.” Again, Asami blushed.

“It was, originally,” she said.

“And?”

“Some wag said it should be Priority T and A, instead.”

“Huh?” Korra said “I don’t get... wait, no way! They said that? About their own boss?”

Asami nodded. “Needless to say, he is no longer employed with the company. And it wouldn’t have mattered who he said it about.”

“No shit,” Korra said. “What an idiot.” She paused to look her wife up and down. “Not wrong, though.”

“Korra!”

Chapter Text

"Good morning, Mrs Luim," Asami Sato said cheerfully as she pushed her electric, corded lawnmower across her front lawn.

It was early on a Saturday morning, and Asami wanted the lawn mowed before the day got too hot. Not that it would take her very long, for it wasn't a huge lawn, nor was she slow. But she had other things to do on this beautiful Saturday.

"Good morning, Mrs Sato," Mrs Luim called back. The retired woman called everyone by their last names, no matter how many times they insisted otherwise. "It's going to be a scorcher!" the elderly woman called from her side of the street.

"It assuredly is!" Asami answered as she turned her lawnmower and started heading back in the other direction, towards the house, making sure not to run the mower over the extension cord as she did so.

Figuring out which type of lawnmower to get had been a stressful decision, she remembered. Gas or electric. Corded or battery powered.

In the end she had gone with a corded electric mower. She had no interest in getting a loud, polluting gas mower, and the batteries in cordless mowers just didn't last long enough. So corded was the decision.

Her wife, predictably, had been fine with whatever she chose.

Asami frowned as she got to the end of the grass near the house, and turned again. Mrs Luim had gone inside, as she usually did after saying hello. Her husband, when he came outside, usually stayed outside longer. Ostensibly, he was chattier than his wife. In reality, Asami was pretty sure the old lecher was just enjoying the view.

Of course, she knew what she looked like in short shorts and a tank top, so she couldn't really blame him.

It wasn't the thought of Mr Luim's wandering eye that had caused her to frown, however. Instead, it was thinking about her wife that had done it.

Asami didn't think she was asking too much in wanting actual input from her wife, rather than just indifferent agreement.

She got to the end of the lawn, and turned for the last time, as now she was mowing right next to the driveway. A quick flip of the cord to make sure it was clear, and she started mowing the last little bit of lawn.

Less than a minute later and she was done. She unplugged the extension cord, wrapped it up nice and neat, then pushed the mower into the attached garage where they stored it. She folded the handle of the mower down flat, then gave it a shove to send it underneath the workbench that was its home. The cord got hung on the wall.

She turned to look at the lawn. Perfectly straight lines. Not a blade of grass missed. As always. She hit the button to close the garage door, then headed into the house.

Time for her to shower and get ready for the day. She smiled, all thoughts of lawnmowers and joint household responsibilities fading from her brain. Korra was coming home from her business trip today, and that made it a very good day indeed.

Asami looked at the clock on the wall in their kitchen. She had finished mowing the lawn exactly on schedule, so she had plenty of time to get ready before she picked Korra up from the airport. And with the idea she had, it was not like she would have to spend a lot of time to pick out an outfit.

-------

Business class was not what it used to be, Korra thought with a grimace, as she fended off the advances of the drunk salesman sitting in the seat next to her. Some assholes just didn't understand that 'no' was a complete sentence.

Men, she thought to herself. Don't want to live with them. Can't kill them. Legally, at least. Physically, she was sure she could take the moron out without breaking a sweat.

“I don’t think,” the salesman slurred, “that there is anything wrong with women working, you know?”

For some reason the man was still wearing his tie, even though they were well into the flight, and even though he was blisteringly drunk

Korra couldn’t believe the moron hadn’t been cut off yet.

There was a gap in the seat rest behind the drunk. Korra figured she could grab the tie and feed it through the gap in the seat in less than a second.

Then pull it tight and watch as the fool choked on his own tie.

It was an idle thought, of course. Being a drunken pig wasn’t a death sentence, though this guy made Korra think that maybe it should be.

“You don’t think?” she asked, unable to help herself. Idiot! Don’t engage!

“Yeah,” the drunk slurred. “I don’t think.”

Well, that was one thing they could both agree on, at least.

“But.. But as... as soon as possible,” he continued, “like ASAP, you know? They should stay at home, right? I mean, that’s what... that’s what’s best. Basic biology!”

He pointed at himself. “Hunter!” Then at Korra. “Caregiver!”

She looked over at the flight attendant, who was doing her best to pretend she couldn’t hear what the drunk was saying as she assisted other passengers. No help there.

“I’ll be sure to let my wife know that one of us needs to stay home,” Korra finally replied. “Though which one of us should it be?”

She felt a little better, temporarily at least, as she imagined telling Asami that response. Her wife was far better than Korra was at dealing with irritations like this guy without threatening violence.

“Wife? Huh?” The drunk looked at her with narrowed, watery eyes. “That... that doesn’t make sense. You’re... you’re a woman! I think you are a woman.” He leaned back in his seat to get a better view of her. “You are musc- muscu- you got guns for a woman. You must be the man of the house.”

Are you fucking kidding me?

And just like that, the very short lived good feeling was gone. Korra recollected part of a movie she had seen once. A guy, a bad guy, but still, a pretty cool character, had gotten annoyed with a fellow passenger and had shot a pea or a small nut or something down the passenger’s throat to choke the woman.

Not an amazing movie, the TV reboot had been so much better, but she had never so much wanted to be a fictional character as she wanted to be that guy, right now.

Can’t kill this asshole, I’m one of the good guys.

Fuuuuuuccccckkkkkkk.

The flight attendant finally got up to them. “Would either of you like something to drink? Also, if you preselected a meal, they will start being served soon.”

How the fuck are they still serving this guy?

“What if you didn’t preselect a meal?” Korra asked.

“I’ll be taking food orders after this round of drinks,” the flight attendant replied.

Korra nodded.

“I want... I want another,” the other passenger slurred.

“Of course, sir,” the attendant responded.

Fuck my life. Maybe he’ll pass out. “I’ll take a double rum and coke,” Korra said. “Also, what are the supper selections tonight? Anything with peas?”

She imagined the idiot choking on a legume. It was almost enough to cheer her up. She wouldn’t do it, she knew, but a girl could dream, couldn't she?

-------

If anyone thought it was odd that Asami was wearing a full length trench coat, completely buttoned up, in the middle of a hot summer, those people wisely kept that thought to themselves. Her legs were bare underneath the long coat, and while she was wearing heels, they were not one of her extremely high pairs, but instead was a pair more suitable for driving.

Not that they didn’t look sexy, and, like any other pair of heels that she wore, made her even taller than her wife than she was already. She bit her lower lip, as her imagination took hold for a brief moment.

Asami liked having her wife look up to her, in all sorts of ways.

She imagined the possibilities as she waited, both at home, and even in the airport in which she was presently waiting. Not that she would do that.

Not anymore, at least.

Both Korra and herself were long past being insatiable teenagers, after all. Or even insatiable early twenty-somethings, as they had been when they had finally gotten together.

Not that they didn’t still have an active, healthy sex life, though. The outfit, if she dared call it that, that she had chosen for greeting Korra proved there was still lots of desire, if nothing else did. But still, dirty airport bathroom sex was only slightly tempting... and not tempting enough to actually act upon.

Not anymore, at least.

The arrivals board updated, and, finally, Korra’s plane landed. Of course, there would be several minutes yet before Korra managed to deplane, but Asami was ready.

Another woman came up beside her without looking at her, dropped something in her coat pocket, and then walked away, acting as if she had spotted her luggage on the carousel as she did so.

Asami sighed.

Fucking work. Always so dramatic.

Then she smiled, because she saw Korra, and she raised her arms to wrap Korra in a huge hug.

Work could wait. She had a wife to greet, luggage to get, a drive home, and then finally get the chance to properly greet her wife.

And show Korra exactly how little she was wearing underneath her coat.

Chapter Text

The rough draft of this story was written in a period of ten days. I was in a mood, and coming out of a depressive period that started in the winter and lasted most of the spring (there was a long stretch where I cried myself to sleep more nights than I did not). Depressive turned to manic late May/early June 2024, and I wrote the rough draft of both this, and my one-shot Asami Alone, all at the same time.

It’s not a head space I usually inhabit, nor a writing pace that I can sustain long-term. I’ll be blunt: it is difficult being a trans woman, especially in these hateful times. Constant low-level stress (with the occasional stress spike added in), combined with financial stress, combined with loneliness, equalled a head space that I am glad I am out of.

So, between the two stories, I wrote over 30K words altogether, most of which were written within the first week. I slowed down for the last few days as I finished the rough draft of this story. Also, I had to take a bit of a break from writing, at least for a little bit. I have not forgotten Greatest Change, and do plan to finish it, it was just I got the insane urge to write this and absolutely had to do it, and I managed to keep up the energy to finish Uncivil Wars, which I refused to postpone (but more about Uncivil Wars when I conclude it next week), and that was most of the writing energy I have had over the summer.

Plus summers are generally busier, with more time spent away from the keyboard, for obvious reasons.

All of the rough draft of this story was written while listening to a cover of Carnival of Rust on repeat. Like, literally. It was the only song I listened to for an entire week. Barely talked to my kids. Might have had one D&D session, but instead of enjoying it, I was wishing I was writing. Basically only worked and wrote.

It’s funny. I cannot remember what made me think that I should plot out a short, violent western, but it took me approximately 30 seconds to do so. This character kills that character, then another character kills the first, and so on. I had the order of deaths written right from the start.

The only thing that changed, as Denadareth knows too well, is that originally more people were supposed to survive. It was originally going to end with Caitlyn holding a dying Vi in her arms, while Korra and Asami rode offer together, unconcerned by the carnage they left behind. Still dark, of course, but not “pretty much everybody dies” dark.

But that didn’t seem right. I cannot say “anyone might die” and then always save Korra and Asami. I had to be stronger than that, both for the sake of the story and for my own growth as a writer. So, soon into the writing process, I teased the idea to myself that I should just kill everyone, with maybe one exception. Kai got to be the exception (though I considered an ending where he went into the wrong bank and found a very cold Zhu Li (with murderous henchmen) waiting for him).

And though that made for a much darker story, it seemed far better. I didn’t want an easy, meaningless happy ending for them. This just wasn’t that type of story.

The one part of the story I wrote completely after my initial burst was the backstory chapter, which goes into the heist and how it went wrong. It was so much fun to write the Krew having absolutely no problem blowing people away, including Asami’s double taps to the back of the heads of the two bank guards at the door. The Temple Gang was cold, and I loved it!

It took a little while for me to figure out the name for their gang. Fire Ferrets has been done so many times. Same with Krew. So I just did some word associations, and when I thought about Air Temple Island that led to The Temple Gang.

I managed to give them their on-brand interactions, I think. Korra and Mako still squabbled, Bolin was still a lovable idiot, Korra and Asami still had their quiet, tender moments together.

Hmmm... I almost forgot to mention the other side. I enjoy writing Caitlyn, almost as much as I enjoy writing Asami. They have a lot of similarities, canonically, between their heights, looks, money and girlfriends. I have long considered Asami to be high-masking, and somewhat autistic. Caitlyn is just plain autistic. Maybe she masks with high society, but I have my doubts.

Korra and Vi are similar, as well, of course. I enjoy writing them both, but it is Asami and Caitlyn who I relate too most (not the money or the looks part (I know my girlfriend will object to this statement, which is part of the reason I love her), unfortunately, but I’ve got the height and the autism!).

Finally, as far as characters go, there was Jinx. I really enjoyed writing Jinx, and found it disturbingly easy to do. She is a walking stream of consciousness, mostly aimed in a dark direction. So any wacky, out there thought I might have while writing Jinx, I could just write it and keep it in the story, because it would probably work! She’s just that all over the place.

Which leads to the final reason this story was so dark: Arcane, itself. Saving some of the characters would have given this story a more Legend of Korra vibe, and that is not what I was in the mood for. Arcane is dark, and Arcane is tragic, just like this story. I’ll be blunt (skip the rest of this paragraph if you do not want season 2 speculation), of the three girls (Vi, Caitlyn, and Jinx), I expect at least one of them (Jinx) to be dead by the end of the show (if not sooner), quite possibly two, and perhaps all three. Arcane is daring/dark enough to do that, I think.

I have not watched any of the leaked stuff, so no spoilers!

Finally, back to Asami... While this story had a dark Asami, I hope it still seemed somewhat like her, just turned bad. She is still smart and thoughtful, and still an absolute menace in a fight. And still generally quiet, and completely loyal to Korra, no matter what.

But also so casually murderous here.

Also, if you remember Asami’s vision in chapter four, that vision lays out 100% the order of death in the story and how each character dies. I’m so sneaky! :D

Speaking of her visions...

Are they real? Are they just remnants of childhood trauma? The only way you’ll ever find out is if I write the sequel for which I have a bare bones idea. Considering how many other projects I am not writing currently, but definitely desire to resume, I don’t think the odds are great that I make a sequel for this. But the idea is there.

Positive reaction, in the form of kudos and beautiful comments would, of course, make that sequel more likely. As the song goes, I ain’t too proud to beg. ;)

Despite the dark nature of this story, I hope there was some enjoyment to be had.

Thanks for reading! See you soon.

Chapter Text

Asami

Wolf Cove.

Finally.

Asami looked over at Ikki, sleeping in the co-pilot’s seat beside her. It had only taken a few hours to go from the sinking wreck of the Sulaco to the capital city (and only city, really) of the Southern Water Tribe. She was still exhausted, however, and more than ready to land the aircraft.

It was low on fuel, too.

“Unidentified aircraft, this is WC Tower. Please respond. Over.”

The voice that came out of the radio was expected, but still startling. It had not taken Ikki long to pass out, and Asami had been in silence ever since. Sometimes it felt like the three of them were the only three people left in the world.

There had been no other aircraft. No ships. Nothing but bright southern sky and snow-covered ground.

I can keep going. I’m okay. Just a little bit longer. Those words had been her internal refrain for the past few hours, and that wasn’t long, except for the fact that sometimes she felt that they were the refrain of her entire life, both past and future.

I can keep going. I’m okay. Just a little bit longer.

“Unidentified aircraft, I repeat, this is WC Tower. Please respond. Over.”

Asami blinked, and realized she was just circling, and not even moved towards the switch that activated her mic, never mind respond.

“WC Tower,” she responded. “Requesting emergency permission to land. Please have emergency personal standing by. Over.”

“Unidentified aircraft, please identify yourself. Over.”

“Tower...” she hesitated. Just because there were no more of those creatures, whatever they were, did not mean there were no dangers. She remembered how she had been treated after the loss of the Nostromo all too well.

“Tower, I repeat, I am requesting emergency permission to land. I have... I have an injured Southern Water Tribe citizen onboard. Please have emergency personal standing by. Fuel reserves low. Over.”

Asami circled, and waited. Fortunately Wolf Cove was not a hugely desirable destination for air traffic most of the time, so the was no pattern she had to worry about. She was so tired.

Even flying in circles seemed difficult.

I can keep going. I’m okay. Just a little bit longer.

“Asami?” Ikki asked from beside her. The girl yawned and straightened up in her seat, then stretched as only a child or a cat could do. “Where are we?”

“Wolf Cove,” Asami answered. “We’ll land soon.”

Ikki’s eyes darted around, and she looked nervous again. “What’s at Wolf Cove? Is it safe?”

Finally, the radio made sound again. “Unidentified aircraft, this is WC Tower. You have been cleared to land on runway three. Emergency crews are standing by. Winds are north by northwest at ten knots. Please respond. Over.”

“Thank you tower. Making approach for runway three. Out.”

Asami turned to Ikki as she ended her slow circle and began her approach. “It’s safe,” she said. “As for what’s there... I don’t know.”

They were both silent for a moment.

“Maybe we can stay here for a while?” Asami asked. “So... how about a home?”

Ikki looked at her, and nodded slightly.

Asami sighed. For now, that was more than enough.

She got the landing gear down, and approached the runway. The aircraft had its vertical takeoff and landing capabilities, of course, but she thought a simple, old-fashioned approach would be simpler and easier for now. She would drop the last few metres vertically, so that she didn’t break the landing struts.

And it was simpler and easier.

Touchdown was without issue, and since she landed vertically, there was no rolling to a stop. The TigerShark was down, and they were done.

Asami breathed out as she shut down the engines and opened the rear hatch. Ikki hunched back, nervous once again. Boots tramped aboard.

“This must be why the pilot asked for emergency personal,” an anonymous voice asked as more boots made their way to the cockpit.

“Hey,” another voice asked, “does the marine look familiar?”

“Oh shit,” the first voice said as soldiers entered the cockpit.

Asami raised her hands above her head, and nodded at Ikki, who did the same.

“Sarge, we have the pilot and a kid up here,” one of the soldiers yelled back.

“Yeah, well you’ll never guess who we have back here,” the first voice yelled back.

A medic pushed his way into the cockpit, and quickly looked around. “I want stretchers for these two,” she ordered. “And get the healing tank unlocked from the fuselage.” He looked around at the soldiers, who were still standing with their guns pointed at Asami.

“Did I fucking stutter?” the medic demanded. “Get moving! And get the captain up here while you get the stretchers. She’ll want to see the injured marine.”

The medic looked at Asami and Ikki. “It’s okay,” he said, “you can lower your arms. You bring the chief’s daughter back alive from whatever happened to you, and you’ll get a pass from pretty much everyone here.”

The chief’s daughter.

Korra?

Oh.

It was only at that point that Asami realized that she finally had no more to give, and that she could keep going no longer. She leaned back into her seat and closed her eyes.

If the medic said anything else, Asami did not hear it.

-------

Suyin

Suyin Beifong looked at the chamber of Republic City politicians, and sneered. If a facial expression could speak words, then hers would say that the members of the Republic City governing body were worms beneath her feet, unworthy of both her time and her consideration.

And yet, Suyin knew that she had lost.

Somehow, the book was closed on an incident that had cost the life of one of the richest men in the world. And, to the best of her knowledge, the last airbending family. And a whole bunch of marines.

Marines that included her sister.

And her ward.

And her daughter.

Somehow, she was not sure how, she kept the sneer on her face. The sneer that made it seem like she was going to bend the metal screws out of the chamber’s furniture and perforate the council members with them.

The sneer that hid the fact that she wanted to weep and scream.

Lin. Kuvira.

Opal.

Oh, my precious Opal.

It had been a fear of hers, ever since her airbending daughter had joined up with the marines. Opal was a combat drop pilot. It was not as risky a job as being front line infantry, Opal had reassured her more than once, but it was still a combat job.

And now something had caused one hundred percent casualties to Lin’s unit, and the council was calling it an “unfortunate maritime accident.”

She had banged on every door. The ones that hadn’t opened to her banging she had kicked down. And still, everyone she had talked to or threatened had either pleaded ignorance or stuck by the official story.

She had lost.

Her daughter was gone, dead, without even a body for her to grieve over, and all she had was lies.

She had lost, and the council knew it. They had already dismissed her as nothing more than grieving mother. Easily dismissed.

Easily forgotten.

Suyin sneered, and slammed her fist down on the podium in front of her. Most of the council members jumped in their seats, startled, but one did not. It was to him that she directed her fury.

Tarrlok, his name was.

“You think this is over?” she demanded. “You think it is over, with your lies? Your stupid, pathetic lies?”

She stared at him, and he stared back, with a smirk. He was confident in his position, she could tell. From her few interactions with the council, in fact, she was confident that he owned the rest of the council’s august bodies, in fact.

“Lies?!” Tarrlok exclaimed with a great sadness. As if he deeply regretted having to dismiss the grieving mother who was also head of one of the most powerful families in the world. “Lies, you say.” He shook his. “I understand. It is in the midst of tragedies such as these, that we truly come to understand that the world is indeed not fair. Or even just, much of the time.”

Tarrlok’s eyes changed from triumphant to sorrowful as he looked at Suyin. “It is a sad fact, that we humans search desperately for pattern even where there is none. For malicious purpose when there is nothing more than cruel chance.”

“You. Are. Lying.” Suyin spat back.

“I look forward to the day you bring evidence to support your accusation that there is more to what happened to the Sulaco than a tragic accident,” Tarrlok said solemnly. “Until then, however, this council must continue to do the work that the citizens of Republic City require of it.”

He looked at the rest of the council.

“I move to conclude this tribunal. The city must mourn and move forward.”

To no one’s surprise, especially Suyin’s, all hands raised in affirmative. Tarrlok nodded towards his fellow councillors.

“Mrs Beifong,” Tarrlok said, “this tribunal is concluded. The city gives you its sincerest condolences-”

“You. Are. LYING!” she yelled. The councillor’s smarmy words had finally overcome her internal impediments and the rational part of her that thought that perhaps now was not the time.

“That’s enough!” Tarrlok barked. “Guards, please escort Mrs Beifong out of the building, with all the dignity afforded to her station, of course.”

“I’m not done,” Suyin growled. Metal started to swirl around her to emphasize that she would leave when she was damn well ready. “You may have concluded your tribunal. But I will find out the truth. Sooner or later. And when I find out that you have lied to me, I will come back.” She turned and glared at a guard that had attempted to approach her. He retreated instantly, hands in the air in placation.

“I will come back for blood!” she finished as she turned back to Tarrlok and the rest of the councillors.

With that, Suyin stormed out of the council chamber, leaving a silent council behind her.

-------

Korra

“Are you ready?” Korra’s father, Tonraq, asked. They were sitting in the family kitchen of the palace.

There was another, bigger kitchen, of course, for staff and visitors, but for intimate family meals, prepared and cooked by family, for family, this was the kitchen. All of them had cooked here.

Tonraq. Senna. Korra. Asami.

Even Ikki had tried her hand a few times, as she had gotten older and started to learn some skills beyond airbending and art.

Right now, it was Tonraq and his daughter, Korra, who had kitchen duties. They were making a hearty dish of noodles and seafood, spicy and warm.

Not coincidentally, it was one of Asami’s favourite dishes.

It was primarily Tonraq who was cooking, though. Korra was distracted by the heavy object in one of her pockets, that she kept fiddling with.

“Korra?” Tonraq asked again.

“Huh?” Korra responded, finally noticing that her father was talking to her.

“Are you ready, I asked,” her father repeated.

Korra took her hand out of her pocket, and held it in her other hand, just to keep herself from fidgeting with the piece of jewellery that she had hidden there.

“Yes,” she replied quickly. “Absolutely!” She paused, and her hands separated and the right one made its way back into her pocket.

“I mean, I think so,” she continued, “but how do you know for sure? Argh! The more I think about it, the more doubts I give myself.”

Tonraq sipped the broth, nodded his satisfaction, then looked at his daughter again. “Doubts about Asami?”

“No!” Korra objected. “Not at all. She’s... amazing. The best thing that has ever happened to me, by far.” She frowned, and finally her hand stopped fiddling of its own accord.

“Then doubts about what?” her father asked.

She suspected he knew the answer, but she answered anyway. “Doubts about me. I was a grunt. A corporal, in a unit that got wiped out, for a corps that I deserted. She deserves so much better than me.”

Tonraq grunted. “And she’s told you this? That she deserves better?”

“Noooo...” Korra trailed off.

“What has she told you, then?” he asked.

Korra said nothing.

“Well?” Tonraq demanded.

Korra whispered something under her breath. Tonraq raised his eyebrows and just stared at her silently. Stared at her in a rather judging way, Korra thought.

“She told me she loves me,” Korra admitted.

“Once?”

Korra shook her head. “Lots of times.” She sighed. “Lots of times, every day.”

“Huh,” Tonraq said. ‘It seems like you were right.”

“I was?”

“Yes,” he said amiably as he turned off the burner of the stove. “The problem is you.”

“Oh,” Korra looked down. “I know I’m not good enough for her.”

“That’s not it,” her father said. “And I don’t think you should ask her until you figure it out.”

That got Korra’s attention, and out of her funk. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she demanded. “That’s your advice? Figure it out?!”

“That’s my advice,” he agreed. “Now, speaking of Asami, will you call her for supper, or should I?”

Korra glared at her father, and went out the door to get her lover.

Figure it out. For fucks sake.

She was aggravated, she knew, but was she really angry at her father? She had asked him for advice, after all.

It was all on her if his advice infuriated her.

Asami loved her, Korra knew that. The few years they had spent together they had formed a tight little family unit, her and Asami and Ikki. It was wonderful. Every bit of it.

But there was still a part of her that wondered. That was afraid.

Why her?

Because they shared the same secret, about what had happened?

Because Asami was scared she would be imprisoned or worse if she showed her face in Republic City again?

Korra walked slowly to Asami’s room, though really it was as much her room as it was Asami’s, the two of them slept together so often.

She’s the smartest, most beautiful, most wonderful woman in the world. Why is she with me? Beyond convenience and fear, that is.

Why the fuck is she with me?

She’s so smart, so beautiful...

The thought trailed off. Asami was so smart.

Smart enough to make up her own mind.

Fuck, I’m an idiot sometimes.

And Korra knew that she was treating her brilliant girlfriend like she was not smart enough to make up her own mind.

Such an idiot.

Green eyes startled her as she turned down the hallway to Asami’s room.

“Korra!” Asami exclaimed as she leaned in for a kiss. She tasted of everything good in the world, Korra thought. “Is it supper time? I heard rumours of noodles!” she finished with a smile.

“Uh, yes!” Korra answered. “Noodles!” She stood stiff and stupid, like a recruit for her first inspection.

Asami looked at her. “Are you alright, Korra?”

“Yeah, um, totally!”

Asami cocked her head, then shrugged. “If you say so.” She started moving towards the family dining room, then turned back. “You coming?”

Korra stood there, and she knew that she was the biggest idiot ever. There was nothing about her that deserved the woman standing in front of her.

She was an unemployed ex-soldier. She was the Avatar in a world that would take the Avatar apart to see how she ticked, and then not bother to put her back together again. She had nightmares almost every night from the things she had seen. She was not book smart.

More than one person had said she was not smart at all.

She loves me, a voice whispered. Her own voice.

Appreciate that love. Treasure it. Work every day to be worthy of it.

“Korra?” Asami asked.

Never let it go.

Korra sank to her knees, and pulled the necklace she had made out of her pocket.

“Marry me?” were the only words she could force herself to say.

Asami smiled, and a tear formed in her eye.

“Yes,” Asami answered. “A million times yes.”

Korra sighed, then made a sound that was almost like a hiccup, but was actually a sob. “You said yes.”

Asami stepped close, and pulled Korra into a hug, with Korra’s head pressed into Asami’s stomach.

“Of course I said yes, silly,” Asami said. “I would have asked you already, but I listened to your dad’s advice, and waited for you to make your move.”

“You...” Korra paused, “my dad...”

“I’ve been talking to him for advice for years,” Asami said. “Seriously, you should listen to him more. He gives great advice!”

“I’m going to kill him,” Korra exclaimed.

Then she laughed.

-------

Elsewhere...

“You think this is bad?” the commander of their little submarine said. “If you think it takes a long time to get down, you should see how long it takes to get back up.”

“Why?” the head scientist asked bluntly.

“Come back up too fast,” the captain answered, “and you get the bends. You do not want that to happen, believe you me.”

“The bends,” the scientist repeated. “Decompression sickness caused by dissolved gases emerging from solution as bubbles inside body tissues.” He stared at the captain. “Inside a submarine.”

“Well, you wouldn’t want to get it!” the captain replied defensively.

The scientist snorted. “No, I cannot imagine that I would,” he replied, going back to staring out of the small view screen. “Let me know when we near the bottom.”

He watched the view screen, but so far there had not been anything to see. The water was cold, this far south, but at this depth, it was cold, no matter what your latitude.

“There’s the Sulaco,” the captain said suddenly, as he attempted to pretend that his previous attempt to scare the scientist had never happened.

“Good,” the scientist said. He was more than willing to let the attempted joke fade away. He had far more important things to concentrate on than a sailor’s feeble attempt at hazing. “Very good. Circle around.”

It took time, to circle around, but they were nowhere near at the end of their oxygen, so that was no issue. The Sulaco had settled on its side.

There was no structural damage on the top of the ship, or the side that they could see, with the other side settled in the mud. The bottom of the ship, however, was a different story.

“I think it is pretty obvious what sank her,” the captain said, as they both stared at the view screen.

“Indeed,” the scientist agreed.

There was a large hole in the bottom of the ship, made by what there was no way to tell at the present moment.

The scientist smiled.

Just because there was no way to tell, did not mean that he did not know. He knew exactly what had sank the Sulaco.

“Look for exoskeleton,” he ordered. “Something big.”

“Exoskeleton?” the captain asked. “What’s that?”

The scientist smiled. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

There was a small part of the scientist that was sad for the loss of his sister and his aunt. There was another part of him that was angry over the loss of the woman who he had hoped would become more to him than just his mother’s ward.

But the biggest part of the scientist was excited. All of the sacrifices, no matter how painful they were, would be worth it, should he be successful.

He knew that he would be. It was only a matter of time.

When the submarine finally came across the corpse of the alien queen, the scientist barely even acknowledged the accomplishment. He had known it would happen, sooner or later.

His success was inevitable.

Chapter Text

And here we are, over a year after I started posting Legend of Korra: The Winter Soldier, and over 150K words later. And now it is done. But I am getting ahead of myself...

It was mid to late 2022, and I was starting to try my hand at writing fan fiction for the first time. I had attempted to write a bit of fiction when I was a teenager, but had not done anything since.

And trust me, I was a teenager a LONG time ago.

I had heard about fanfiction before, of course, but had never gone down the rabbit hole until 2021. And then I became addicted, at least for a while. I don’t read as much of it now. I’m too busy writing it.

So! Back to late 2022, and I was trying to write stories. And I was starting a bunch of different ones, and then abandoning them, because while they were fun ideas, they were not complete stories, and I just didn’t know what to do with them.

That’s when two different obsessions blended together in my head: Legend of Korra and the MCU. Korra easily took the place of Steve Rogers in my brain, and Asami took the place of Bucky Barnes. I started to write it, especially the opening (“On your left!”) and the freeway fight (“Who the hell is Bucky?”). It was the freeway fight that inspired me the most.

So I started it, but didn’t really have a plan to finish it. It was an amusing idea, but honestly I thought it would be my LoK/Arcane crossover, snippets of which are two previous chapters here, that I would manage to focus on to completion.

But then I saw some art on Tumblr that almost exactly matched my vision of what Korra as Captain America and Asami as the Winter Soldier would be like. This was in the very early winter of 2023 (January or February), so that got me writing some more of it.

I posted my first ever work (a very short LoK/She-Ra crossover) for International Fanworks Day 2023, just to force myself to do it. I knew that if I did not set a date and just do it, then I never would.

Then I got back to my longer stories, primarily the LoK/Arcane one, as I said, though Winter Soldier, as well. But then I saw something cool on Tumblr: Finish Your Sh*T (FYS) 2023. I wanted to actually complete a longer story, and this would be the impetus for me to do so. Plus, by this point, I actually had far more than half of the rough draft of what would become Book 1 completed already.

FYS was exactly what I needed to complete Book 1, and post it. It helped that the outline of the plot was basically done for me – I was reworking the movie, after all, so I chose Winter Soldier to be first long fic that I actually completed and posted.

In fact, with the extra impetus that FYS provided, and the fact that it was only just over 20K words, I got Book 1 finished long before my set posting date. That, of course, allowed my brain to keep working.

So, in the late spring 2023, a few months before I had even started posting Book 1, the basic ideas for Book 2 and Book 3 started to come together in my head.

Book 1 was pretty easy. I was just taking the basic plot of Captain America: Winter Soldier, and repurposing it. I stripped out some, because it was all from Korra’s POV. Made some changes, because I thought the magical computer hardware MacGuffins saving the day at the end was a bit silly (plus there was no way for Fury to realistically survive the street battle). Found a way for Korra to save Asami from the perverted spirit energy, as opposed to Kuvira.

Yay! The day was saved, and everything seemed to be heading in the right direction for our girls. Hell, even Korra and Opal hooked up at one point, though that was never meant to be more than a short-term thing (#korrasami4ever!).

And my story even had fans! Even though Book 1 was short, and had a lot of parts that were not filled out particularly well (a part of me wants to go back and rewrite Book 1, but I have so many other things to write first), it was pretty popular.

Things then got a little more difficult. I wanted to do for them what Captain America: Civil War and the later Avenger movies did not do for Steve and Bucky: keep them together until the End of the Line.

The first part of Book 2 came pretty easy to me, as it was a modification of my favourite part of Civil War: finding Bucky and the chase scene where they outrun the cars in the tunnel. I may have spread that out too much (my ability to write longer, more filled out scenes has increased drastically since I started this series), but over all, it worked pretty well.

But the thing about the second parts of trilogies is that is where shit gets dark. At first, I almost thought about them have a happy ending at the end of Book 2, and just leaving it at that. My rough draft for that happy ending is actually in Book 3: it’s Asami’s dream of Korra busting into the trial and rescuing her.

It just didn’t fit, however. It was too fast, too easy.

I wanted them back together. I wanted them to be the over-powered battle couple that they truly are, but then where is the story?

So, I brought them back together. I had their love rekindled.

And then I tore them apart again.

And I spent a lot more time on their pre-fall story, showing how they had been torn apart already.

For a long time, Book 2 was my highest rated story, having been surpassed now by Greatest Change (I’ll be honest, I’m kind of down about the lack of engagement Book 3 has gotten. It really makes it difficult to want to continue writing big, intricately plotted stories like this – edit: wrote this a few weeks ago. Feeling better now, and have lots of writing plans). People liked it. People were horrified at what I had done to poor Korra and Asami.

Hell, I didn’t know it at the time, but it had even started the process of me getting a girlfriend!

This leads to Book 3. Book 1 was a complete rewrite of Winter Soldier. Book 2 started with a rewrite of part of Civil War, and then became completely mine.

Book 3 was basically my own story, from beginning to end. It had Korra’s story, Asami’s story, their backstory in the form of interludes, and then their story as they finally got back together for good.

It had my version of Korra Alone, as well as Asami Alone. I tried to show them moving forwards, but then sliding back, more than once – healing from trauma is not linear, nor is it quick, nor is it easy. Season 4 of LoK shows this so well with Korra’s struggles.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about Asami’s struggles, which got only the briefest of screen time. So instead of Asami Alone being pushed to the background, as it was in the show (a decision that still irritates me), we got Asami in her hellish prison. I didn’t want to spend too much time there. It’s not that type of story (plus, honestly, I had no idea what more I could do with the in-prison scenes. Slow reflections on how shitty everything was? I think there was enough of that already. Prison sexual assaults? Nah. Have her slowly dig a tunnel and cover it with a pinup of the Avatar? Too slow).

But I also didn’t want it to be too easy.

So that was a tough part: figuring out how to give Asami the chance to escape without it being too easy. I’m not sure I pulled it off, but thing about it was... escaping the prison under the mountain was the easiest part of her escape. Escaping her own head, that was something else entirely. Something that she might never do completely.

The story also had a hefty price for Korra to pay. That price, where Korra loses her eyes, has been fated for her for around a year now (long before I wrote Korra losing one eye in Furthest Depths). I knew basically how I wanted the story to go, and I knew that the price that Korra would have to pay needed to match the price Asami already paid. It had to be both.

It had a happy ending for both of them that I hope feels earned. Denadareth mostly predicted the ending back in his comments for chapter three of this book.

It’s weird how writing works for me. It’s been almost a year (over a year? Not sure) since I knew this would end with them together, and with Korra having lost her sight. It’s been over three quarters of a year since I wrote the first draft of the second epilogue chapter that I just posted (I looked up the document creation date – I wrote the first draft of the final epilogue before I even had started posting Book 1).

I always knew how this had to go. I just had to figure out how to get there.

Hmmm... other random thoughts:

I’ve written Korra and Asami good, I’ve written them good but bloody (very bloody in this series), I’ve written them bad (The Furthest Depths of Hell Itself), but one thing they all have in common in my stories is that they are in sync and drawn towards one another. I even have a story idea (that I will probably never write) where they are enemies and end up killing one another, but even then, they are drawn towards one another and are in sync.

I cannot imagine I will ever write a Korra and Asami story where they end up with someone else. It’s just not how I operate.

It is also part of their intrinsic characters, I think. Korra’s first assessment of Asami: Prissy, elegant, beautiful rich girl. Asami’s first assessment of Korra: amazing. Outside of the word prissy, nothing changed from when Asami was first introduced to the end of the show. They were meant for one another right from the start.

What else?

There are always the implications of violence and casualties in the MCU. Winter Soldier was the first and in many ways only MCU film (that I can remember off the top of my head, at least) to actually show the cost. I took that, ran with it, and cranked it to eleven in this story.

I’m not sure how much sense any or all of the above makes, but hopefully at least some. Don’t hesitate to comment with thoughts, questions, or praise (as Bolin once said, I love praise), if you so desire – I would love to hear from you.

Finally, I have a bunch of stuff on the go, but I have no idea what will be the next story I post, or when it will be ready.

I hope you enjoyed the journey. Thanks for reading.

Adora

PS: If you’ve made it this far, I have a little bonus for you:

You, and Me, and She, Makes Three Four

Several Years After the Battle of Omashu

“I’d forgotten how cold it is in the south,” Asami yelled through the scarf covering her face and mouth. “What are we doing out here, anyway?”

“I’m not sure,” Korra answered, so softly through her own scarf that Asami wasn’t even sure that she had heard her wife correctly.

It had been easy enough for them to get to the Southern Water Tribe. The very friendly state government of Yi had provided them with false documents. The Great State of Yi, as it still proclaimed itself, was proud to be home to the Avatar, and very accommodating towards keeping the identity of both of them hidden. The biggest problem Asami had had with the state government was the frequently expressed desire by state officials to have both her and Korra as official parts of the government.

Said desire, she had to admit, while flattering, did not line up precisely with their desire to keep their continued existence hidden. But so far there had been nothing more than requests, and as long as that was how it stayed, then it was nothing she could not handle.

After getting the documents, it had been time for the two of them to do something that Asami had not had the opportunity to do for a long time.

She had gotten to fly, and had flown them from Yi to the south.

The two of them loved the home that Korra had built for them both, but that didn’t mean they wanted to be there all the time. It just meant they had to be cautious should they ever decide to go travelling. And Korra had wanted to visit her homeland, something she had not done since before they both fell.

They had thought about sneaking through the Republic City spirit portal, but with the increase in trade and bureaucracy through and because of the portals, flying seemed the much safer option. As far as most of the world still believed, the Avatar and Asami Sato were dead, part of the disaster that had befallen Omashu. Korra had managed to mitigate that disaster a little, but there had been far more damage than any one person could have prevented, even the Avatar.

Especially an extremely wounded Avatar who was not even fully conscious when she had saved so many.

It would be years before Korra would stop blaming herself for not doing more, Asami knew. If Korra ever stopped blaming herself at all.

The conspiracy theories that had sprung up about the two of them had tended to amuse Asami greatly, as did the very futile search for the new Avatar, until some people had tried to act upon those theories. Fortunately, the only deaths caused by those theorists had been to themselves.

So far, at least.

So Asami had finally gotten the chance to fly, though she knew it was going to be a boring few hours for Korra. Between being in the air, and the vibrations of the plane constantly surrounding them, Korra was truly blind, in a way she rarely was anywhere else.

Korra had stayed silent as Asami had done the work necessary to ensure their plane was safe for the journey, then had listened as Asami had talked to the tower and successfully gotten them off the ground.

Only when they had reached their cruising altitude had Korra made a request.

“Tell me what you see,” Korra had said.

And Asami had done so.

She had described mountains and towns, clouds and the sea, the disappearance of the sun as they went further and further south, and the southern lights as they got close to their destination. A couple of times she had spotted other aircraft in the distance, and the two of them had amused themselves imagining where the other pilots and passengers were going, and what their purpose was.

Tourists on their way to Zaofu? Smugglers trying to sneak something into Republic City? White Lotus searching for the new Avatar?

At one point, Korra’s laughter had faded, and she went silent, though only for a moment. Asami wondered if Korra was thinking back to the last time Korra had watched a passenger jet high in the sky, and the way it had exploded, and the way the bodies had fallen.

Asami had held Korra more than once as her lover had awoken in a cold sweat from nightmares of that day. Just as Korra held Asami when she woke up screaming from some of things she had seen.

The flight had gone quickly, over all. Weather was good at Wolf Cove, so landing was not an issue, and their identities might have been fake, but their documents were completely official, so there was no issue entering the Southern Water Tribe.

Then they had toured around Wolf Cove. They had checked out the Glacier Spirits Festival, won some stuffed animals (with Asami almost getting into a fight with a vendor, before Korra had settled her down), ate too much fried food, and had definitely not had sex that night, as their stomachs had been far too full.

They had gone to the palace, the place from where Korra’s father had once ruled over the Southern Water Tribe. There, Asami had led Korra to a pair of statues, and had said nothing while Korra used her other senses to “see” the two statues. Then, when Korra nodded her assent, she had read the inscriptions for each statue.

One was a statue of Korra’s father.

“First Chief of the Independent Southern Water Tribe,” was inscribed underneath Tonraq’s statue. “Devoted Father And Husband. Leader. Warrior.”

“Dad,” Korra had whispered as she reached out and touched the statue.

The other was a statue of Korra.

“Beloved Daughter. Avatar. Legend. Gone Far Too Soon, But Always Remembered,” was inscribed underneath Korra’s statue.

Both of the statues depicted their subjects in heroic poses, and were worthy of their source material, Asami felt.

Korra still couldn’t cry, and never would be able to again, with her tear ducts permanently burnt shut, but Asami felt that she had cried enough for both of them. Even if she hadn’t been feeling extra hormonal already, it was still a tear-worthy event.

Even more tear worthy was another statue they had come across, a little more out of the way. It had depicted a young Korra, grinning as she ran, her polar bear-dog Naga running by her side. Despite not being able to see, Korra had been the one who needed to be the guide when they left, as Asami had cried too hard to manage guide duties after looking at that statue.

They had made love that night, and held one another tight, as they both felt the impact of those long gone, but not forgotten.

Now, they were nearing the end of their journey to Korra’s old homeland, and they were out in a driving storm, only because Korra had felt that she had needed to be out there, even though she was not sure why.

Asami nodded at Korra’s words, then winced. She was still not used to Korra not being able to see anything, especially since, in normal circumstances, Korra could sense things with more detail than a lot of people could see with their eyes. But in a storm this fierce, Korra’s sensing was just as limited as Asami’s eyesight, if not more so.

“Toph would have been proud,” Korra had said once about her abilities, with a chuckle.

Korra held out her hand. “Lead the way, Mrs Sato.”

Asami wanted to arch an eyebrow so badly it was almost painful not doing it. She took Korra’s gloved hand.

“Lead the way where, Mrs Sato?”

Korra shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll know when I know.”

“Sounds good,” Asami agreed. She had learned to trust Korra’s instincts a long time ago. The few times she hadn’t, she had generally regretted it.

So the two of them walked in the blowing snow, Asami’s goggles and scarf barely keeping up with the weather. Asami could only hope that they didn’t accidentally stumble over a hidden crevasse in the snow or something.

She took another step, and then another, and so on, until suddenly she tried to take one more step but Korra held firm, and wouldn’t move.

“What is it?” Asami asked.

“I hear something. To the left.”

Asami could hear nothing over the sound of snow blowing, but she turned to the left, and led the way once more.

“A little more to the left,” Korra instructed. “No, too far. Back a little to the right.”

So it went for a few minutes.

“Stop,” Korra commanded.

Korra let go of Asami’s hand, then bent ice walls around them, blocking the wind and driving snow. Then she bent fire for light and warmth, and pointed to a small mound in the snow.

“What’s that?” Korra asked.

Asami crouched down and wiped away snow, until a small creature was revealed. It was cold, and shivering, even though it was covered in snow white fur.

Korra fell to her knees, the heat from her bending warming all three of them.

The creature, which had raised its head enough to look at Asami, turned towards Korra and whined. Then it made it’s slow, unsteady way towards the Avatar.

“Naga,” Korra whispered.

The polar bear-dog wagged her tail, and crashed into the woman she had waited lifetimes to see again, knocking Korra onto her butt and back as she did so.

Korra laughed like Asami had not heard her wife laugh for decades.

Asami crouched down as well and reached out with her right hand to pet the small animal. Tears filled her eyes.

“Family,” she whispered as she removed her hand from the polar bear-dog and put it on her stomach. It was three months since she had her last period.

Then Asami used her left, metal hand to pet the small animal. It was past time for her to accept that the metal arm was hers, just as much as her other, flesh-and-blood arm was.

Family. The thought was almost overwhelming.

With more family to come.

-------

This little post-credits scene (to borrow a phrase from the Marvel movies once again), is dedicated...

To Denadareth, who is the strongest Naga proponent ever, and whose tireless nagging back in December 2023/January 2024 got me wondering if there was a way to bring the bestest girl back. Remember when I hinted way back when in some comment or another (I couldn’t find it, but I know that it exists) that she might come back? I wasn’t lying. ;)

And...

To T0rni... My Korra. The last couple of months have been the happiest of my life.

Chapter Text

Korra

“Mako, you have never looked so good,” Korra said, with not a trace of a lie in her voice.

Her friend and very brief crush, once upon a time, stood beside Asami, as he did his duty in “giving away the bride,” as the old, sexist, but still somehow comforting tradition went. With both of Asami’s parents being dead, Korra’s father had actually offered to walk them both up the aisle at the same time, but when Mako had offered, Asami had instantly said yes.

It was strange, Korra thought, as her mind jumped all over the place in wedding day jitters, how Mako had brought the two of them together. Her, and...

Asami.

“I don’t think anyone even sees me,” Mako said with a slight smile. “Including you. Take good care of each other.”

He backed away from where they were standing, but Korra barely even noticed.

It had taken effort for her to take her eyes off of her bride-to-be long enough to greet Mako, and that effort was now gone. Korra now only had eyes for the woman she soon would be able to call wife.

Asami was radiant.

There was no other word to describe it.

While Korra looked quite dashing in her suit, or so she hoped, Asami looked like she had been gifted to the world by the spirits themselves. Tall and graceful, feminine and strong, as smart as she was beautiful, Korra still sometimes wondered what she had done to deserve the woman by her side.

Even after years of being together, Korra still sometimes wondered.

Green eyes locked with blue, and Korra could see nothing else.

Words were spoken, and she responded with the correct words at the appropriate places, or at least a part of her figured that she must have, because before she knew it, Asami caught her by surprise and dipped Korra, before kissing her thoroughly.

Korra looked in her lover’s eyes – in her wife’s eyes – and knew that everything was going to be perfect.

-------

“Wow, you are really not feeling well today, are you?” Korra asked Asami as she held Asami’s hair. “There must be some sort of flu going around.”

Asami gasped, and held up her hand. Korra passed her a warm, wet cloth, for Asami to wipe her face with. Asami sat back down on the bathroom floor as Korra flushed for her.

“Or maybe it is something else,” Asami said when she was able to talk again. “We didn’t go to that clinic for no reason, after all.”

“You think it took?!” Korra asked. “I didn’t want to get our hopes up.”

“Pass me a test and let me go pee, then we will find out,” Asami said.

Korra dug a pregnancy test out of a drawer, passed it to Asami, then headed for the door. She started to turn-

“Get out of here, love!” Asami said with a laugh. “You know I can’t pee with you watching!”

Korra laughed, headed out the door, and waited. It was only a few moments, and Asami joined her, stick in hand.

“Messy,” Asami muttered.

They waited, checking over and over, as if that would speed the time up, for the required minutes. And then the line appeared.

“We’re going to be moms!” Korra yelled as she picked Asami up in her arms and kissed her.

They smiled at one another as they ended their kiss.

It was all going to be perfect.

-------

Korra slammed on the brakes of their car and jumped out as fast as she could.

“Help us! Help us!” she yelled as she rushed to the passenger side. “She’s bleeding!”

She yanked open the door, and stopped. What had been a trickle of blood was now a flood. “Asami!” she screamed.

“Move!” a nurse came running out of the emergency room and pushed Korra aside. “We’ve got a bleeder! She’s pregnant!” the nurse yelled. “Get a stretcher and let’s get her to an OR!”

Another nurse came and grabbed Korra as Korra attempted to follow them in. “Wait! You cannot go in there. Wait!”

“But she’s my wife!” Korra screamed. She started sobbing. “My wife. My daughter.”

-------

“It’s an ectopic pregnancy,” the doctor explained. “We have to wait, and hope that your wife survives giving birth.”

“What? What do you mean hope? I’ve heard of those. Nobody lives through those if it is untreated.”

“That is not quite true,” the doctor disagreed. “There is still a good chance your wife will survive.”

Korra thought about her daughter, dead before she was even born. “Why would we give birth? The baby is already dead.”

The doctor looked at Korra for a moment. “You are talking about options... that we do not offer anymore. Removal of the fetus would get any staff involved up on murder charges, and get you charged with murder as well.”

“What?!” Korra asked. “That’s crazy!”

But it wasn’t. She knew it wasn’t. The wrong people had been voted into office, and the laws had changed, for the worse. The two of them had even talked about moving back to her homeland, the Southern Water Tribe, for just this reason. But Asami had wanted to stay and fight, and Korra had supported her.

“It is crazy,” the doctor agreed. “But our hands are tied. You can see your wife now,” he finished. “She’s unconscious but stable.”

The doctor picked up his phone as she left his office.

“Tied,” she muttered, as she went to Asami’s hospital room. “His hands are tied. His his his. Always fucking his.”

She walked into the room and stopped, completely still. Asami looked like she was dead.

Asami wasn’t.

Korra could see the faintest movement of Asami’s chest as she breathed. She stood over her wife and took her hand. “Stay strong, love,” Korra whispered as the tears streamed down her face. “I’ll figure this out. I’ll figure this out. Just stay strong.”

She stood, and watched, and waited, for how long she did not know. Nurses came and went, but outside of offering sympathetic words, did nothing of use that she could tell.

If only they had gone to the south, as they had considered.

Gone to the south.

Gone.

Go.

Korra gasped.

“I’ve got it!” She leaned down a kissed Asami on the forehead. “Stay strong.”

She rushed back to the doctor’s office.

“I’ve got it!” she yelled as she saw the doctor. He was not alone now, but she did notice. “Asami’s stable. We can get an emergency medical evac to the Southern Water Tribe! They will look after her properly there, and fuck the fascists in power here!”

The doctor winced.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but that is illegal, too.”

“Ma’am,” another man said, as Korra noticed the doctor was not alone for the first time. “You are proposing the commissioning of multiple crimes. As a legal representative of this hospital, I am hereby informing you that no illegal activities may occur or be planned on hospital grounds, nor may any hospital staff be involved in any such activities, in any place or in any way.”

“What?”

Korra shook her head. It didn’t make sense. They were all words that Korra understood individually, but the way they were put together made no sense.

There was another man, too, she finally noticed. A cop.

“Also,” the lawyer went on, as he gestured to the cop, “we will now require you to have a police escort at all times while on hospital grounds, for your safety and ours.”

Korra slammed her fist into the doorframe beside her. “My wife is going to die! And you have a lawyer and a fucking cop? MY WIFE IS GOING TO DIE!”

“Ma’am,” the officer said as he looked at her nervously. His right hand brushed against the holster of his weapon. “I need you to calm down.”

“You’re lucky I don’t grab that gun from you,” she yelled, “and shove it up-”

Korra stopped as a nurse ran by, then another.

“Asami!”

She turned and ran after the nurses.

“Ma’am, stop!” the cop yelled as he started after her.

“Asami!” Korra screamed.

“Stay back!” a nurse yelled.

“She’s hemorrhaging!” another yelled.

“Ma’am, stay back!” the cop yelled. “Don’t force me to shoot you!”

“What?” a doctor yelled. “Put that thing away, you idiot!”

“Turn around, now!” the cop yelled at her.

Korra turned back to the cop, who was frozen in terror, his sidearm pointed directly at her.

“Either shoot me, or let me get to my wife!” she yelled back.

The cop just stood there.

Korra snarled, then turned around again and attempted to make her way past the orderly who was blocking the door to Asami’s room.

“Get the fuck out of my way!” she ordered as she pushed him aside.

Then there was a bang, and her world turned to fire.

She staggered forward enough to see the doctors and nurses moving away from Asami, and looking up in shock at the gunshot.

Asami was still.

Completely still.

“No,” Korra whispered as she staggered forward one more step.

“Stop!” someone yelled, at who she did not know.

There was another bang, then darkness.

-------

Mako

“This is the worst anniversary ever,” Bolin complained.

“Yeah,” Mako agreed, as he took another sip of his now warm beer.

There was a part of him that was still in shock, he knew. He wondered if part of him would always be in shock. Two of the best people he knew – two of the best people anyone knew – dead while in their twenties, because of a shitty system and a poorly trained cop.

To think that a year ago both Bolin and he were anticipating being unofficial uncles – and now both Korra and Asami were dead.

“Worst anniversary ever,” he repeated.

There had been no one to tell on Asami’s side. Korra was her family.

Korra and the two of them and Korra’s parents back in the south.

Korra’s parents.

It had been Mako who had taken it upon himself to make that phone call, before the newspapers broke the story.

He had never imagined it was possible for so much pain to come through a telephone receiver.

It had been his last official action on the force.

“You want another one?” Bolin asked as he headed towards the bar.

Mako looked at his warm beer, still unfinished. He took a swig, then put it down.

“Nah. I’m going home.”

Why pay money to be morose at a bar, when he could be morose for free at home?

-------

Korra

It burns!

It burns it burns it burns!

Her nerve endings were firing as if every single one of them had been dowsed in gasoline and set on fire.

She wanted to scream, to scream louder than any woman had ever screamed before, it hurt so badly.

The pain.

The fire.

Then nothing.

Nothing at all.

No pain.

No nerves.

Nothing but darkness...

And something else. A box she was trapped in.

She felt around it, with what she felt might be her fingers.

It was a strong box, solid and unyielding.

It trapped her.

She went from feeling the box she was trapped inside, to pounding on it with her fists.

A word came to her. Almost a memory.

Perfect.

Then she screamed.

For real this time, loud and long and full of anguish.

“ASAMI!” she screamed and the box exploded.

She saw stars above her now.

“What? What?” she asked and pleaded with the distant cold lights above her.

Eventually, she moved.

She sat up, and marvelled at the fact her body worked.

She crawled out of the exploded hole she was in...

Trees.

The moon.

Tombstones.

My tombstone?

She staggered to her feet.

Where am I?

Who am I?

There was a bird on a branch, outlined by the moonlight.

A crow?

It cawed once, then took off, heading towards the city.

She didn’t know why, but it felt like the correct direction.

She followed the crow, and did not notice the second empty grave behind her.

Chapter Text

How It’s Going...

Asami

Asami laughed, and swatted the drunk old lecher’s hand away from her skirts. “Just wait until I tell your wife!” she exclaimed, as she passed pints of beer to the various old fools around the table.

It was loud in the tavern, between the sounds of voices talking at or over one another, and live music being sung and played by a guitarist in the corner. Sometimes, the tavern would get quiet, for one reason or another, and the customers would realize how talented the musician actually was.

Most of the time it was so loud that they could barely even hear her.

In the month she had worked at the tavern, she had more than gotten used to the habits of the patrons of The Loft, as the place was called. When she had first started working, she had asked the owner who hired her why it was called that, when there was no loft in the building that she could tell.

“There used to be,” the bald man had replied, a little wistfully.

He had said no more, though, so Asami had put the information aside, and quickly learned the ins and outs of being a tavern wench in a small, rundown town. It was not particularly onerous, most of the time, though some customers got mean when they drank, and others, like the old man she had just passed another beer to, got adventurous in ways that they shouldn’t.

She had quickly learned to deal with unwanted advances with a laugh and a smile. None of the regulars ever took it further than an occasional attempted feel, as they did not want to be banned from the tavern.

Her partner had taken the boorish behaviour of some drunks with more anger than Asami did, in fact, but had not acted on that anger.

The two of them had a job to do, after all, one that the tavern’s owner knew nothing about.

“It will be our little secret!” the old man yelled loudly as he leaned back towards Asami, his hands outstretched once more.

The guitar music and singing from the corner of the tavern faltered slightly, but then resumed instantly.

“Really?” Asami replied, with a fake look of surprise on her face. “But isn’t that her there?” she asked, gesturing towards the door.

“Wait? What!” the old drunk yelled, as he looked frantically towards the door.

She laughed, finished putting the drinks on the table, and headed back to the bar. She had only taken a few steps when the old man’s friends started laughing, as well, as they realized they had all been fooled.

She got back to the bar without further incident.

“They bothering you?” the bartender asked, a scowl on her face. A large, muscular woman with scarring on the left side of her head, the bartender may not have owned the tavern, but she was the one truly in charge.

“No more than usual,” Asami replied with an only slightly forced smile.

She faced the bartender at an angle, so that she could both converse, and keep an eye on her tables. It was rare that she got more than a few moments to stand still on any evening during the rush, so she enjoyed the short break while she had it.

It also gave her an angle to see the guitar player, who looked at Asami briefly, then went back to her playing without any further acknowledgement. The job came first, after all.

Even if it was not the job that the owner had hired them each for.

“You are way too pretty to be working at a place like this,” the bartender said. Her eyes drifted over to the musician, and then back to Asami. “Not that I blame them, in some ways,” she said, “I might have taken a shot myself, but I can see what’s up.”

Asami smiled again, and her smile was more genuine this time. She looked the bartender up and down. The woman was, somehow, packing even more muscles than Korra was, and was, as Asami had learned over the course of the previous month, an absolute sweetheart.

Unless you fucked with the staff. Then you had better run.

“You definitely would have had a better chance than the drunks do, Maellara,” she said.

“Ha!” Maellara laughed. “I’d be insulted if I didn’t!” Once again, she looked over at the musician. “You two are both overqualified for this place. Why are you here?”

“We like to travel,” Asami answered honestly, “and that takes money.”

It wasn’t the complete answer, of course, but it was true. The people the two of them did “jobs” for tended not to be able to pay very well, after all.

Maellara’s demeanour shifted instantly, and she glanced quickly at the giant axe hanging horizontally behind the bar.

Asami had wondered what the story behind the axe was, but had never felt comfortable enough to ask. She knew that there was a crossbow behind the bar, as well, so it was interesting that Maellara’s eyes had flickered to the axe and not the ranged weapon.

“Fuck,” the large woman snarled. “They’re early. You weren’t supposed to be working the day they showed up.”

“Why not?” Asami asked, though she was pretty sure she knew the answer. She appreciated the woman’s concern, as unnecessary as it was.

“The Viper gang. They are takers,” Maellara replied as people started noticing the newcomers. “Takers of wealth. Takers of lives.”

The tavern got quiet, and more than a few people started making for the exit. The musician’s music trailed off.

“Takers of people,” the bartender finished.

“I see,” Asami said softly.

“We’re not ready with this month’s payment yet,” Maellara muttered.

“Is the head of the gang part of this group?” Asami asked as she watched the gang members kick a group of travellers out of their table, and took it over for themselves.

“Wench!” one of the gang members yelled out. “Beer!”

“Zolt?” Maellara scoffed. “Nah, we never see him. Don’t even know what he looks like.”

“Pity,” Asami said. She looked back at Maellara. “Better get pouring. We wouldn’t want to keep our new customers waiting.”

“Beer!” the man yelled once again.

“Coming!” Asami called back.

“And what happened to the music!” another one yelled. “Keep playing!”

Asami looked over at the musician, and gave a small nod. Patience, Korra.

Korra started playing and singing again, and Asami gathered up the mugs of beer for the new table. The old timers had sneaked out without paying, she noticed, but their tab would still be there when they came back.

And they would come back, she had no doubt. The old-timers fit under the description of “fun guys to have a beer with,” but having a beer with someone did not make them useful. Most of the old guys were drinking their family’s hard earned money, whether the family knew it or not.

One of the gang members whistled as she approached.

“Where have you been all my life, beautiful!” he called out.

“Fucking your mother,” she replied as she handed out mugs of beer. “Are you paying right now, or starting a tab?”

The entire table went silent for a moment, and then burst into laughter. “Oh, I like this one!” the original yelling man exclaimed.

“Starting a tab!” another spat out, while laughing.

The final gang member punched the one she had mocked in the shoulder. “You better check up on your mom, Ping, it sounds like she is getting way more action than you are!”

“Any at all would be more than Ping gets, with his fucking “lucky” toes!” the first replied. He looked Asami up and down. “You’re our wench now, baby. These village idiots can fend for themselves. Got it?”

Asami smiled at the man, and if the gang member didn’t notice that the smile never reached her eyes, that was his problem, not hers. “Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

-------

Korra

“It will be our little secret!” the old drunk yelled, as he reached out to make a clumsy grab at Asami’s skirt.

Korra’s playing faltered ever-so-slightly, then resumed as if there had never been a pause at all.

She had known when the two of them had accepted this job that there would be risks. There were always risks, it was the nature of the work.

So as she sat off to the side of the tavern, and sang and strummed songs of love and loss, good times and hard times alike, she was mostly able to ignore the attention that Asami drew as Korra’s partner did her job, serving tables and collecting payment.

Asami could handle herself.

Korra knew that very well, and had known that for years now, almost as long as she had known the other woman.

The atmosphere of the tavern changed dramatically as a new group walked in. Loud and obnoxious, these were not everyday patrons.

Hmmm.

Korra paused her playing as she looked over at Asami, who was with the barkeep. The newcomers objected loudly to the silence, and Asami gave a nod to Korra.

Korra breathed out, and resumed playing. This was probably the right bunch.

Not yet.

One of the gang members whistled as Asami approached the group.

“Where have you been all my life, beautiful!” he called out.

“Fucking your mother,” Asami replied as she handed out mugs of beer. “Are you paying right now, or starting a tab?”

Korra grinned. Asami’s wit was just as topnotch as every other part of her.

Absolutely fuckin’ perfect.

“Oh, I like this one!” another of the gang yelled.

“You’re our wench now, baby. These village idiots can fend for themselves. Got it?” the one who looked like he was in charge said.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Asami responded with a smile.

Korra winced. She knew that smile, and it was definitely not the prelude to a good time.

Well, not for the person Asami aimed it at, anyway.

The night wore on, and the crowd continued to thin as the gang members got louder and rowdier. Korra’s eyes narrowed as the size of the group grew.

Four would have been easy, but nine... that could be a challenge.

Still, Asami kept the beer coming and the patrons happy, until the leader got up and made his drunken way to the bar.

Korra could see that the barkeep, Maellara, said something to the leader, who apparently did not like what he heard.

The outlaw pulled out his sword and pointed it at the larger woman, at the same time as one of the gang members made a grab for Asami’s arm. He missed as she ducked out of the way, but another one managed to get his hands on Asami’s sleeve.

The sleeve ripped as Asami pulled away, and revealed the knife hidden underneath it.

“Boss!” the outlaw yelled.

Asami smiled, and Korra knew the time had come.

Here we go.

“You cannot blame a girl for being able to protect herself, can you?” Asami asked with a shrug.

The leader looked away from Maellara. “What the FUCK sort of barwench carries assassin’s blades?” he asked.

All of the gang members pushed back from their chairs as Asami sent her serving tray slicing into the head of the nearest criminal.

“Great question!” Asami called out as knives appeared in both of her hands. “Why don’t you sit down and think about it for a while?”

Korra dropped her lute into its case as she stood up. She clapped her hands in front of her.

“Naga, come!” she called out.

The room glowed eerie blues and purples as a hole formed in the air. Korra could see the gang leader’s mouth open in surprise as he turned towards her.

A snarling beast of the abyss came bounding out of the hole in the air. All tentacles and teeth on one side of the portal, Naga looked completely different as she entered their realm. Huge and furry, Korra knew that with a proper cleaning the beast would look white, but that anytime she came from her homeland she was dark with blood and soot.

Korra did her best not to think about what her favourite hell-creature got up to when she was not with Korra.

The closest outlaw to Asami died from two stab wounds to the chest, and a slice to the throat, then Asami leaned backwards horizontally as a sword went over her.

“Naga, protect!” Korra ordered. Naga knew who Asami was almost as well as she knew Korra, and with a bit of the pressure taken off of Asami, there was a better chance that they would take one of the bandits alive.

Not that they were unable to get information from the recently departed, of course. But that was a whole other process, with its own difficulties.

Naga slammed into the nearest bandit, and wrapped her jaws around his shoulder. Then she tossed him to and fro like a ragdoll, until she bit too hard and the man’s body went flying, his arm still in Naga’s mouth.

Asami flipped over another gang member, hair trailing and her legs kicked out in each direction, with her skirts in no way hindering her movement, as Korra reached into a different instrument case.

She pulled out a different stringed instrument, and grinned as she played a chord.

A blast of dark energy emanated from the instrument, and struck a different bandit in the back. He dropped after only a couple of more bursts, shaking like he had been electrocuted the entire time.

So far, none of the three of them had gone after the leader, which was good, because – Korra watched helplessly as the giant axe which had hung behind the bar, untouched previously for so long, burned with a magical fire and cleaved down into the leader’s skull.

The barkeep screamed a battle cry as she pulled her axe out of the leader’s smoking corpse.

Korra sighed. Never mind.

The dead were always so annoying to talk with.

She looked back at the main fight. There were only two bandits left now, and both were backed against a wall.

Their short swords crashed to the ground as the raised their hands in the air.

“Naga, stop!” Korra called out.

This was always the test. Korra’s companion was loyal, but also had her own desires. And those desires usually involved eating people.

This was a good day, apparently. With a quiet (quiet for a giant beast, at least) woof, Naga dropped the corpse she had been tossing around, and came back to Korra.

“Good girl!” Korra said as she gave the blood-covered monstrosity a good petting. “Who’s a good hell-spawn? Naga is, that’s who!”

She watched as Asami prodded the two living bandits towards the bar, then followed along behind them, her knives at the ready.

“As I said,” the barkeep said as she poured Asami an ale and passed it to her. “Overqualified.” She looked around the tavern sadly, then grabbed a towel and wiped blood off of her face.

There were broken tables and chairs strewn everywhere, and scorch marks from where some of Korra’s blasts had gone astray.

And blood and bodies, of course.

“Fuck my life, what a mess,” Maellara muttered softly, before looking at the two of them. “Tell me everything,” she ordered.

Asami looked back at Korra. “Well, it’s a long story...” she began.

Maellara poured another ale, and gestured for Korra to come over.

“I’m going to close up, while you tie our two new friends up. Then,” and she picked up her giant axe once again and pointed it at the two of them.

The magical flames had gone out from the axe when the barkeep had put it down, Korra noticed.

“Then,” Maellara repeated, “I want to know everything. That’s my price for this.” She gestured at the mess.

Asami looked over at Korra, who grabbed the offered ale.

“Like she said,” Korra said, “it’s a long story.”

Maellara just raised an eyebrow, before she headed towards the door. “Everything,” she repeated.

“Everything, huh? Well,” Korra started as she took a swig of ale, “it all started near the town of...”

Chapter Text

I do not sigh.

When a client comes straight from work, and sits her filthy, blood-stained buttocks and thighs upon my very nice, somewhat comfortable baby blue couch, I do not sigh.

When a different client adjusts himself in such a way that his particulars slip from his loincloth and dangle down his bare, musclebound thigh, for a brief, but not nearly brief enough, moment, I do not sigh.

When a small, nervous individual retracts their claws in and then brings them out again as they talk, cutting my brand new cream coloured couch to ribbons as they describe in lurid detail the so-called baddies they fought and killed, I do not sigh.

I am very good, I believe, at holding back sighs.

So when my newest client sank heavily into my couch and dropped his gigantic axe down upon the tile flooring of my office, cracking multiple tiles and taking a massive chunk out of one of them as he did so, my breathing was slow and even. When he blew a massive wad of snot out of his right nostril onto those same tiles, I did not even raise an eyebrow.

And I definitely did not sigh.

And yet, despite my calmness and lack of reaction, somehow this massive, brutish appearing warrior (and he truly is massive) sensed that not all was right. He looked at me, frowned, and then looked down at the broken tiles.

“Oh,” he grunted. “Sorry.”

“That is quite alright,” I answered with my second most charming smile, the one I reserve for new clients. He looked up at me as I spoke, and then his eyes widened, and he looks down at the broken floor again.

“Trust me,” I continue, as I pretended I did not notice his reaction to my smile, “this office has seen far worse. Far, far worse.”

He looked up at me again, and I let my smile fade to remove the potential for unwanted complications. I had learned the importance of making sure my clients would not fall in love with me a long time ago.

“It has?” he asked slowly, as he glanced down at the damage once more, before looking at me again.

“Oh yes,” I answered, but only with a grin this time. I thought about elaborating, but then decided to leave it for another time.

The client was relaxing, and soon the real work would begin – there was no reason for me to pile on the charm, and multiple reasons for me to not pile on the charm. And my smile had charmed many men in the before times, prior to me having my present, gainful occupation.

“This is a place of safety,” I continued. “A place of open and honest communication. A place where my clients – you, in this case – can hopefully process the things that they have seen, and acts that they have committed, in such a way as to move forward with their lives, in ways of their own choosing.”

“That is an important part of the process,” I finished, “if not the most important part.”

His thick, bushy brows furrowed. “What is?”

“Choice,” I answered.

“Choice?” he asked, his brows somehow even more furrowed than before.

“Choice,” I affirmed.

There was silence for a brief moment, but then I filled the space, before he could ask another question. This was our first meeting, after all, and some formalities had to be taken care of before we could seriously examine his mental baggage.

“But first,” I said, “before we go any further into the philosophical and personal implications of choice, we must discuss the terms of our arrangement. What, exactly, are you looking for? Why are you here, in this office, right now, with me?”

“And finally,” I said, and this time I did let myself sigh, “there is the unfortunate matter of payment.” I raised my hands and gestured around the office. “Buildings are not free, nor are tiles,” I stated with another small grin, “and sometimes I need to eat, as well.”

He chuckled. “Yes, of course. You are no adventurer. Gold I have plenty of.”

“Indeed I am not,” I agreed. Not anymore, at least. “My rates are 255 gold pieces an hour, and the sessions generally last an hour, unless specifically agreed beforehand.” I thought for a moment. “As well, cancellations need to be done at least two days in advance, or there will be a cancellation fee. Exceptions can be made in case of plague or longterm injury or death or whatnot, of course.”

He nodded, and pulled a small satchel out from... somewhere, someplace magical I presumed, because otherwise he pulled it out of his arse, and handling it after that might even make me sigh.

Fortuitously, it smelt of nothing but a faint whiff of blood, and nothing else.

And blood was ever-present when you dealt with adventurers.

“I... am unaware of the exact value of the contents of the satchel,” the warrior stated, as if reciting a statement prepared ahead of time.

“Straight from the last job, then?” I asked as I dumped the contents into my sorter.

Far more than a simple coin counter, my sorter could tell me where each coin was made, whether or not there were curses on the money, whether or not any of the sides had been shaved to stretch the value of the coin, as well as other useful things.

And while it could not value more unique items, it could warn me if something was more than it seemed.

In this case, though, the pouch was filled with coinage and a couple of small items, purely collectible in nature. I set those aside, though one did catch my eye, a miniature statue of a woman raising her arms to the heavens, the woman’s rather glorious bosom almost seeming to heave in exertion as she gazed upwards.

The coinage was enough for three sessions plus change, not even counting the figurines.

“Noooo,” he answered slowly, then shrugged. “I did not count it.”

“Well,” I replied, giving my second-best smile once more, “there is enough for three sessions, and then some.”

He nodded. “Keep the extra. I will bring more when we get to a fourth session.”

“Well,” I started, then almost frowned as I realized that I had repeated myself, “I am flattered that you already plan to keep coming, but we are far too early in our first meeting for you to make any such decision.”

I took a moment, however, to write down the way he leapt to committing to more sessions. Which reminded me of another thing...

“To begin,” I said as I looked up at him once again.

He really was huge – muscles on top of muscles, as the more physically oriented companions I used to have might have said – with scruff on his craggy face, and short bristly hair on the top of his head.

Even if the axe and the muscles and the scars all over hadn’t given away the fact that this was a melee fighter, his cauliflower ears would have.

This was a man who got up close and personal on the field of battle, and had the body to prove it.

“To begin,” I repeated, but deliberately this time, “what do you like to be called? There was no name attached to the appointment.”

The man – and yes, I am well aware that I am being presumptuous in referring to the warrior as a man, even in my own head – frowned, and hesitated.

This was interesting. And, I believe, the true beginning of this appointment. Why would he – they? No. There was no point in speculating, I would find out when I found out – hesitate over that question?

I let the silence stretch.

It was not my job to interpret a client’s thought process. It was, however, my job to pay attention to the process, and see how it played out.

“They call me,” he finally said, “Grug.”

Grug?

The name of a brawler. A warrior.

A stereotype.

“They?” I asked.

I wrote a quick note. Eventually I would come back to who they were, but that was not important for now.

“What do you call you?”

Again, he hesitated, then he shrugged, the muscles of his shoulders rippling as he did so.

If I was straight, the muscles would perhaps be distracting, but as it was, I was far more interested in the hesitation.

And I don’t believe I’m flattering myself when I say that even if my client was gender swapped, I would still be able to stay focused. I am a long way from the witless teenager who started drooling at the sight of a pretty face and a shapely ass.

“They call me Grug,” he finally repeated.

Hmmm...

There was a time and a place to press a client – when the relationship had been well established and the client was being particularly avoidant, then drilling down on the bothersome issue could be productive, if done correctly.

There was no relationship here, not yet, and there wouldn’t be for several sessions. Therapy takes time, and effort, and consistency.

“Would you like it if I called you that, or would you prefer something else?”

There was less hesitation this time.

“Grug will do,” the warrior answered.

“Alright, Grug,” I responded. “And preferred pronouns?”

Grug’s brows furrowed once again. “Pronouns?”

“You’re an adventurer,” I explained. “And a successful one, I would bet. Surely you have seen that many are not who they initially seem to be.”

Grug nodded slowly. “Like shapeshifters.”

“Indeed,” I agreed. “Well, that can be the case for non-shapeshifters, as well. Just because someone appears to be a ‘he,’ does not mean that that person actually is a he, or likes to be referred to as a ‘he.’”

“Oh,” Grug responded. “I have known people like this. But I am a man. That is enough for Grug.”

“Alright, Grug,” I replied. “So, this brings us to a fairly big question: why are you here, today?”

Grug shrugged, and looked away.

“‘Why’ can be a difficult question,” I said after a few moments of silence. “How about a more specific one: how did you find out about me?”

Now he looked at me again, and I wrote another note, that he was unwilling or unable to give his reasons for coming to see me.

Not unusual, really, especially with the big, burly warrior types.

But important to note down and keep track of.

“Grug was in a tavern,” he began, then trailed off.

“Where so many great adventures get their start,” I interjected with a very restrained smile.

Happily, Grug smiled back.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Including some of Grug’s own,” he continued, “yet that was not the case this time. Instead, we were not at the beginning of an adventure, but instead celebrating the end of one.”

I nodded for Grug to go on, but the picture had been painted for me, even before he spoke.

I could easily imagine Grug, sitting at one end of a table, definitely not on the bench as his tremendous frame could not squeeze into that side. Another adventurer, a smaller companion, nursing her drink from the bench.

A wizard, perhaps.

Another flirting with every staff member they could reach, and drinking excessively as they did so.

A bard, no doubt.

Perhaps another fighter, as well, or a rogue, living under the pretense of being dark and dangerous, while in reality the most vulnerable member of the group.

But my speculation was meaningless.

Only Grug’s story mattered.

“We were in the Twisted Unicorn,” Grug continued, “celebrating our recent victory over the minions of Shadow Skull, and our defeat of the monster itself.”

“A worthy conquest,” I said with a nod.

And it was worthy, though not particularly epic. Until recently, Shadow Skull had been a mid-tier villain, obsessed with its own importance, but of no great threat to anyone.

Until one day word came that Shadow Skull had gathered an army, and was invading the nearby kingdom of Tharmor. Thus the call to adventure went out.

A call that, apparently, Grug and his companions had answered successfully.

“Yes,” Grug agreed simply. “But that does not tell you how Grug discovered your business.”

“Please, continue,” I said softly.

“We celebrated,” Grug said, “but it was not a huge celebration. So, Grug was able to hear other people talking, for once. And Grug, when Grug went to the bar to buy more ale, heard two people talking.”

Grug’s large brows furrowed once again. This time, I could make out white hairs sprinkled amongst the otherwise dark eyebrows. Grug had been adventuring for a while, or the process had aged him prematurely.

Perhaps both.

It was a dangerous business, being out on the road, looking for adventure.

Or so the stories go.

Grug shrugged. “One person was consoling the other, and Grug listened. The person recommended you to the other person, and now Grug is here.”

“Word of mouth is a powerful tool,” I said. “Thank you for sharing.”

The story had enough plot holes to drive an ancient dragon through, of course, but I accepted it and moved on. The facts of a situation could be useful for my job, but they were not actually my job.

My job dealt in truths, and the consequences of facing those truths.

My job was simply to guide.

“What do you hope to get out of our session today, Grug?” I asked. “As well as any future sessions we might have?”

Again, Grug went silent. But this time I was prepared to wait him out.

Some truths needed to be faced early, for therapy to have any point.

And the truth that the client came here of their own accord, and had to have had a reason to show up, was one of those truths.

Everything could proceed from that.

“I- Grug doesn’t know,” he finally replied. “It just felt right.”

That... was an interesting slip.

Who are you, person who others call Grug? Who are you, to yourself?

“Well,” I respond, “I am glad you made the decision, and I hope that the decision still feels right as we carry on. I look forward to working with you.”

Another smile. Warm, and welcoming, and relaxing.

I had a good feeling about this one.

-------

My second client of the day was a familiar one. She was a burnt out spellcaster who had come to me for help over a year ago. She was a good, familiar client, who made slow, steady progress, and had never once attempted to act on her obvious crush on me.

I hoped she never would, since that would almost certainly mean I would have to end our professional relationship.

And no, before anyone asks, the ending of the professional relationship would not open up the possibility of a personal one. I learned how to set boundaries long before I became the professional I am today, and that is a firm boundary.

Anyway, I believe she has a new beau now, so with any luck that will take care of any untoward feelings that she might have.

The session with her was uneventful, except for one thing – she stated that she had applied for an adventuring job advertised on a message board, which was a huge step for her. Whether or not she got accepted, the fact that she was putting herself out there again would be great for her mental health.

Assuming she did not get eaten by a dragon or something while on the job, of course.

My third appointment... was cancelled?

Huh.

That was unexpected. Another reliable client, he was a duelist with confidence issues and imposter syndrome. I knew that he had been scheduled, even at lunch, which I had just finished.

A simple sandwich, eaten at my desk, as was often the case.

No reason was given for the cancellation, which was odd.

Suddenly, a new booking appeared. Interesting.

I should say, that I love my appointment and booking system. Designed by a lovely magic-tech specialist, it took care of all of my scheduling needs and then some.

It was such a pity she moved away – beyond being very good with her magic-tech, she was also good at other things, too, if you know what I mean.

Still, easy come (very easy come, when her talented fingers were involved), easy go – it was not like there was emotional attachment.

Not to her, at least.

There was a knock at my office door. The new client, I presumed.

I almost frowned for a moment, which was completely unacceptable. Strange cancellation and unexpected new booking or not, I had a professional reputation to maintain.

“Come in,” I called as I settled into my big comfy chair, across from the small couch clients sat on, with a fresh notebook in my hands. I never sat at my desk when I was seeing clients, as the desk itself created a barrier between myself and the client.

The door opened, and in walked a small, nervous looking halfling. She hesitated for a moment, then closed the door behind her.

“Hello,” she said softly.

“Hello,” I said, standing up to greet her as I did so.

She got a more muted smile. I did not want to overwhelm the poor thing on our first meeting.

“How are you doing today?” I asked. I gestured for her to sit. “I’m Charlotte.”

Charlotte isn’t my real name, of course, though that is a story for another time.

“Thank you for booking with me today,” I continued. “The unexpected opening I had worked out for the best, I suppose.”

“Yes!” the young woman agreed. Her eyes darted left and right as she spoke. “I just looked on the sign as I was walking by, and there it was!”

She was nervous, and obviously hiding something, but that was not too uncommon for my clients. They often came in wanting to be found and seen, even though they were busy hiding from themselves.

With her youth, and her nervousness, I decided to go a slightly different route than I usually went with my clients. I let my face relax slightly, and my voice soften.

“And how should I refer to you, my dear?” I asked.

“Oh!” She looked around again, quickly. “You mean, my name?”

“Yes, please. If it is by your name you prefer to be called.”

“Oh, well, it’s...” she trailed off, as if she was thinking. “It’s Aribel!” she finally finished.

My face almost visibly tightened at that point, but years of training paid off.

I wasn’t always a therapist, after all.

Sometimes, the ability to control ones expressions was the difference between life and death.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Aribel,” I said softly.

Nervousness. Eyes darting around. Struggling to think up a name.

That was three related things, and bad things often came in threes, after all.

I slowly blinked with both eyes multiple times. The first time was deliberate and purposeful, while the other blinks were designed to distract. “Sorry,” I lied, “something in my eyes.”

To Aribel, nothing would have changed in the room, but to me, many things changed. Wards became visible, as did my best friend, hanging from his usual perch in the room’s rafters. Aribel became taller, blonder, and far less of a halfling.

And the second person, who had presumably snuck into the room as Aribel came in, when the door was open, also became visible.

I hate lying to clients (though some lies, such as my name, are inevitable and cannot be avoided), but even more than that, I hate being robbed.

As the second individual slowly made their way towards me, their tail twitching in discrete patterns as the did so, they drew a knife. The poison that coated the blade was obvious to my enhanced vision.

Oh.

Assassination was far more interesting than a robbery.

This was going to be an interesting session.