Chapter Text
Asami Sato is not a child.
She never has been and never will be. Her childhood was ripped away from her the second they broke into her house, the second she heard that scream from the hallway, the second she rushed out of bed to see her mother’s lifeless body and the pool of dark, crimson blood under the glistening moonlight. The second her mother had been taken away from her within a blink of her eyes.
Even then, maybe she would have had a childhood, if only her father weren’t Hiroshi Sato. Okay, that was mean. He was a good person, a good dad. Just blinded enough by rage and anger and his thirst for revenge. Which makes him not such a good person and not a good dad after all. She doesn’t know; thinking about her late father always makes her head spin.
Or maybe it’s just the alcohol.
Either way, she’s leaning over the porcelain bowl she had become best friends with ever since forever, hands gripping on the seat, heaving up air and clear liquid. It was strong enough to make her feel like someone’s hammering the side of her head, but even then she had to make sure that she’s not being loud. Not even when she’s choking. They will hear her - they will come find her and find out just about how fucked up she is. As if the visible bones and skin and missing out every meal possible don’t tell them that already.
She really needs to move out of this place.
Korra wouldn’t let her, of course – nobody would trust her alone with herself. And Asami couldn’t blame them – she wouldn’t trust herself, either. Not when all that remains was the looming thought of death and the desire to destroy herself inside out until the devil inside her is satisfied.
How did she even get here?
Her body collapses on the cold, hard tiles and decides that it’s a question for another day.
Pema knows. She always knows.
Maybe it was the fact that she has four kids, or that almost fifteen years of being a mother made her feel like it’s her job to take care of any estranged children that she finds - either way, she’s learned how to trust her guts from long ago. And she doesn’t want to think of the girl as if she’s something to be pitied of, but when she finds Asami barely breathing and sick out of her mind on the bathroom floor at ungodly hours of the night…
She doesn’t know how to describe the emotions she’s feeling right now - she’s not even sure there is a word to describe it.
But pity comes close enough.
Pema approaches her slowly, careful to not startle her, to not scare her away. She’s always made sure that she’s extra gentle and soft when it comes to Asami - not that she’s not like that usually, but there’s always going to be a side of her that will make sure this girl gets the extra care she needs. And spirits know she needs it. All the mothers in the world couldn’t fix what damage they had done to her. It’s done, and there’s no turning back, no way to undo whatever it is that happened.
In another world, Jinora or Ikki could have been her. A child who lost everything they had, a child who had to grow up too fast, a child who has never been a child. That thought kept the rage inside her chest burning.
“Asami? Sweetheart?” She whispers in the shell of her ear, so gentle it wouldn’t have startled a bird. “Are you there?”
Fear struck her when the girl didn't budge - no sign of consciousness at all, no sign of anyone home. Pema began forming an emergency plan for if - when - it becomes too serious for her to handle. If she doesn’t wake up, alert the others. Get her medical help. Asami may not be too thankful afterwards, but it would be better than death. She’s only doing what needs to be done.
She is not losing this girl.
“Come on, Asami,” she says, more urgently than the last time. She’s not losing this girl. She is not. Pema tries to shake her awake - there’s only skin and bones there. Every part of this girl screams let me die let me go but yet Pema held on to her tight, the same way anyone would have done. Especially a mother.
Come on, something, anything -
A low moan, barely audible. Her heart does a series of backflips. “Asami?”
Another moan. The girl’s face slightly scrunches up in discomfort - she could only imagine the pain she’s in. “Hey, hey - it’s alright. Are you there, Asami?”
Something else. A cough - then her mouth opens, gasping for air. Pema acts quickly, propping her on her side and supporting her neck and back because that was how weak she was. “You’re alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” Her hand travels along her rib cages as an attempt at comfort, shushing quietly. “Open your eyes for me? Look at me for a moment.”
Her eyes fluttered open, scared green eyes searching for solace in the middle of it all. When they met Pema’s, her eyes drooped almost immediately in either relaxation or exhaustion, and she caught the side of Asami’s head when she inevitably collapsed back down. “There you are,” she says softly, caressing the side of her cheek with one thumb. “Can you talk to me? What do you feel?”
“ H - hurts,” Asami manages to choke out, and even then Pema takes it as a good sign.
“I know, love, I know,” she assures, gently pulling her closer. “Want to move somewhere nicer?”
The girl attempts to shake her head. “M’gonna make a mess.”
“That’s alright,” she tells her, running a hand up and down her arm. “I have you. I’ll take care of you.”
This time, Asami shakes her head harshly. “You - you shouldn’ - “
“No, none of that,” Pema cuts her off, firm but gentle. “I’m right here for you, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.”
Asami nods shakily, holding onto her for dear life as she carefully lifts her up. Pema wasn’t strong by any means - she’s beginning to have difficulties carrying the four-years-old Rohan already - but Asami, she was just, so, light. Like she was a piece of ancient, fragile paper that could crumble into dust any time if she wasn’t handled gently enough.
“Alright?” She checks in when she manages to get the girl to stand enough for her to move. When Asami gave her another nod, they started moving.
It was a painfully slow walk from the bathrooms, along the dark hallway towards the bedroom at the end of it. And Pema remembers muttering encouragements to her, telling her it’s okay, I’ve got you, I’m right here, you’re going to be okay, we’re almost there -
And then suddenly the girl’s legs buckled, body going limp, and for a second Pema feared that Asami had passed before she felt warm liquid on her arms, and then the girl silently convulsing and choking - “ Asami - !”
Pema gently sets her down on the floor and holds her body up so that she doesn’t choke. And there’s tears streaming down the girl’s face before her eyes widen and she realizes what’s going on, breaths cut short. “M’sorry,” she blurts out, still heaving up more vomit, “I - I didn’ mean to - ‘m sorry, Pema I’m so sorry - “
“Asami. Asami, hey, hey. Look at me.” Pema says firmly, tilting her chin, trying to get her attention through the panicked mumbles and sobs. “It’s alright - look at me. Breathe, it’s alright.”
“But - but your clothes - “
“ - can be changed,” she assures softly. “Hey, it’s not a big deal. I need you to breathe.”
Asami gulps on air through her sobs. “I’m - ‘m still sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Pema shushes, “you can’t help it. Besides, I’ve dealt with a lot worse - you should’ve seen the kids when they were babies,” she chuckles, wiping the girl’s mouth with her sleeve gently. “Trust me, I’m a mom.”
She doesn’t know what she said or what buttons she had touched wrong, but Asami starts sobbing again, and there was nothing she could do but to hold her through it, shush her, tell her to breathe. That she’s right there for her and that she’s not going anywhere. That was the most important part of it all.
When the sobs are reduced into sniffles, Pema props her against the nearby wall and whispers to her that she’ll be back - she needs to clean them up, make sure everything is clean and comfortable before she gets Asami to bed. Get a washcloth and a small basin. Some towels. Two sets of clean clothes. A glass of water - fuck, she needs to get some warm food into that girl, and meds to help her sleep too -
Pema stops in her tracks to take some deep breaths.
One step at a time, she tells herself. She’s probably gone long enough to make Asami panic already - no, she can’t let that happen. Grab two clean clothes from the washroom and wear one of them, the other for Asami. Get a washcloth and a basin filled with warm water. Pema rushes back to the hallway to find Asami curled up against herself, so small and visibly shaking that it breaks her.
“Asami?” She calls softly, setting the small basin nearby. “Come, sweetheart, let me clean you up.”
Asami lets her take her shirt off, run the wet washcloth over her skin, wash all the vomit and sweat and tears away from her. She was so... obedient, like a confused, scared child - maybe she’s always been one after all. Just a scared girl who wants to be held and reassured. Just a small child.
(They all are.)
Asami was leaning against her shoulder by the time she was all cleaned, and Pema decided that it would be easier for both of them if she carried her all the way back to bed altogether. It surprises her even more, how light she is when she’s finally gathered the girl in her arms - she barely weighs more than Rohan, Pema knows it. It terrifies her. She’s going to sit this girl through a full course meal once she comes around enough, that’s for sure.
But for now - rest . She sets Asami on the soft bed gently and makes sure that she’s in the right position to ease her breathing. Hold her up and coax some water into her, hopefully some hot porridge later on.
Wrap the covers over her shoulders and cradle her. Murmur to her that someone’s got her, I’m right here and it’s going to be okay, love, you’re not alone. Tell her that she deserves better things. Good things. Spirits knows that she does.
Pema makes a mental note to herself to call Kya if things get worse. They're still in the ungodly hours of the night, and she knows this will be a long, long night - but Kya (and Lin) are mothers too, after all, both to those boys and every other child who needed them. And she knows that all the mothers in the world couldn’t fix what they did to this girl, but… she could try. She is a mother, after all - always have been and always will be.
And Asami is a child. Her child.
Pema mutters an I love you into the shell of her ear and holds her just a little bit tighter.