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Two Years

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Work was impossible.

Asami sat at her desk and she pretended to listen to Varrick drone on, and on, and on about how this magnetized rail system was going to make the both of them rich, but she had heard it all before and wasn’t paying much attention.

She kept thinking of the paper that burned a hole in her pocket.

Two years of nothing. And then suddenly—

Asami Sato

—This?

“Miss Sato? Are you quite alright?” Varrick prodded. “If you’re going to be sick, might I suggest my special blend of tea?”

“N-No, that’s quite alright. I’m fine.”

But, she was not fine. And, yes, she did feel sick to her stomach. Asami thought she could go into work today, considering deadlines were approaching faster than she could pound out schedules and turn in orders, but she was a mess and everyone knew it.

“I’m sorry, Varrick, but I really have some business I have to get to. Do you mind if I reschedule?”

She didn’t even really care what his answer was, but she shooed Varrick and Zhu Li out of her office and plopped down in her chair with a heavy sigh.

Two years. Two years of only thinking of one person. Two years of missing, yearning, praying for even a ghost of a whisper. She needed her so much right now, and she probably needed her too. She just wanted her to know how much she missed her.

And then it came.

It was a simple envelope. The hand writing on the front was familiar, but shaky and careless. No, not careless. When she looked closer, Asami could see where her pen pressed hard into the parchment, probably pretty desperate to not let it quiver and shake because she could not allow herself to look weak. So, Asami decided it was messy, not careless, but very endearing.

She felt dizzy as she opened the envelope with a letter opener. Making sure not to rip open the letter inside, she carefully slid the page out and began to read.

Dear Asami—

Thanking the Spirits for the solitude of her office, tears begun to stream down her face.

I’m sorry I haven’t written to you sooner, but every time I tried…I never know what to say.

She couldn’t believe it.

Even though I can get around fine now, I still can’t go in to the Avatar state. I keep having visions of Zaheer and what happened that day.

She had written to her.

Katara thinks a lot of this is in my head, so I’ve been meditating a lot, but sometimes I worry—

After two years.

—I’ll never fully recover.

And as sad as her words were—

Please don’t tell Mako and Bolin I wrote to you and not them.

—they were truthful and brave.

I don’t want to hurt their feelings, but it’s easier to tell you about this stuff. I don’t think they’d understand.

And every word Asami read—

I miss you so much.

—sent shivers down her spine.

Korra.

“Oh, Spirits.”

She held the letter out and away from her face, elbow bent, wrist hanging uselessly. Her hand covered her eyes, the silent tears becoming an audible sob that echoed through her office. She didn’t care about her mascara running or the pitiful noises she made. All she cared about was that she had written to her. That fact constricted her chest, made her heart beat fast, had her choking on her own breath.

Pulling out her own sheet of paper and her favorite black and gold pen, Asami wrote with urgency.

Dear Korra—

I love you.

Asami stopped writing.

The pen fell from her fingers. She blinked, staring at the words she didn’t know she was going to write.

Their honesty stunned her into silence.

Swallowing, she grabbed the piece of paper, crumpled it up, and threw it in the garbage bin.

Asami wiped away the tears on her cheeks, reapplied her makeup, and took a deep breath. Her eyes were glued to the letter on her desk. She was about to put it in her pocket when her assistant opened the door in a flurry of words and excitement.

She was late for her ten o’clock with the president.

The heiress sighed. Silently, she wondered how many years it would take to hear from her again.

And how many years it would take for Asami to return Korra's letter.