Who: Asami Sato What: Dreaming of the time Korra was gone for three years When: Recent Where: Dreamland Status: complete Rating: PG Notes: Technically part a fanfic series I wrote, but it's 100% canon compliant.
Asami hasn't seen Korra in twenty-five months. She knows. She’s kept count. Most days she's so busy she can't feel the ache in her chest and she likes it that way. At night, she's too exhausted to really think. But she's developed a ritual. She's written a letter to Korra nearly every night of those twenty-five months. She's mailed off maybe a third of them, the rest crumbled or burned or locked away in a drawer but she hasn’t missed a week between letters. She always asks how Korra is doing, but she pours her heart out on to the paper, too. Emotions and feelings she never wants Korra to see. Once, she accidentally sends one of those letters and couldn’t sleep for a week afterwards. Korra doesn't need her emotional vomit. She has herself to worry about and the last thing that Asami wants is to pressure her.
But some nights she gets to think. Slow days, or bad ones, leaving her with hours of nothing to do but wander her mansion with a candle. After Mako's family moves in, she gets a flat downtown. It's still spacious, just less so, but at least at night she's not haunted by reminders of her mother or her father. If it happens to be big enough for two people and a polar-bear dog, well, she isn't going to deny that faint hope. It's just large enough to swallow up her loneliness
And she is so lonely, here, in the dark, with only her memories to keep her company. She puts a record on, a slow mournful melody that fills the empty rooms of her apartment. She’s just so tired, and so stressed that she might just strangle Varrick. She misses Korra. Her voice, her cocky smile, the way her skin glistens after a workout and the sound of her laugh and the way they’d started moving in sync. twenty-five months and she can remember all of that like it was this afternoon.
And she almost resents Korra’s absence. Asami runs a hand over her face, and it’s not fair. She doesn’t want to feel this way. Korra doesn’t deserve it. But she left, she left and she hasn’t written. twenty-five months and the only reason she even knows Korra is alive is because of updates from Tenzin. She might as well be dead! She leans against the wall, tears running down her face and punches the side of her fist into the plaster. She should be there! She feels like a failure, like she simply isn’t enough to help Korra. She still wants to. She’ll do anything for Korra, without ever expecting anything in return. But Korra left. Everyone leaves her, everyone hurts her, and she lets herself cry and rage because she hates being alone.
Curling on the floor, she gasps for breath through her tears and holds herself until she calms down. “I just… I miss her. And I feel like I’m stuck. I’m stuck in a place, waiting and wanting and everyone else is moving on and all I want is a sign that it’s okay.”
Asami wishes she had something to make her ache less.
“Why can’t I let her go?” She gets to her feet, moving to the phonograph and flipping the record. “What if she doesn’t remember any of us?”
That doesn’t feel right. That doesn’t feel like Korra. “Okay. She wouldn’t forget us.” She wipes at her eyes. She feels like a terrible friend for even doubting that, and for her breakdown. “And it’s not her fault. She’s getting better. She’ll be better and she’ll come back when she’s ready. And I’ll tell her… I’ll tell her...”
She can’t finish it. Saying it out loud, even alone somehow ruin it before it has a chance to be something. She loves Korra. “Why am I talking to myself?”
Asami lets the music play out before she returns to bed. While she doesn’t always have nightmares, she rarely gets any rest, but she sleeps through the night. The ache is still there in the morning, but it feels different. Like she’s gotten out from under a badger-mole on her back. Her mood sours at the letters in her mailbox. She’d hoped ignoring her father would give him the hint, but he’s a Sato. He is persistent.
She nearly throws out the entire pile, but a water-tribe seal catches her eye. With trembling hands, she closes the box and rushes back upstairs. Asami can almost smell Korra on the letter and as soon as she opens it she gets a rush of emotions and memories. Good ones, this time. She has to set the letter down to dry her eyes enough to read it.
Her whole body is shaking by the time she’s finished and she doesn’t even know where to begin to compose a reply. The trust Korra gives her makes her fit last night feel like a child’s tantrum. It explains so much. For the first time she seriously entertains the idea that Korra feels the same and before she can stop herself she brushes the paper against her lips, leaving the faintest trace of red.
She looks at the time, then decides she can run late today. Taking out some paper and a pen, she starts to write.