Work Text:
and that orange, it made me so happy
as ordinary things often do
the orange, wendy cope
Kya grimaces as she swings her legs over the side of the bed. She pushes herself to her feet slowly, leaning heavily on her left leg as she stumbles out of the room, half-hopping, using the walls for support. Her right leg protests every step, but Kya grits her teeth, trying to be as quiet as possible as she staggers down the hall. It’s times like this she’s grateful Lin is a heavy sleeper.
She doesn’t make it farther than the couch in the living room before she has to sit down, collapsing onto the cushions, her breathing heavy. She should have grabbed her cane, but it fell to the ground last night and she hadn’t bothered to pick it up. So retrieving it this morning would have required bending over, and Kya isn’t sure she could have made it back upright.
She looks around the room for something else that could be used as a crutch, but it’s difficult to see with such little light. The first rays of the morning sun are only just beginning to peek through the clouds, which is hardly enough to properly illuminate the apartment.
She tilts her head back, looking up at the ceiling, counting as she breathes through the pain.
One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.
Uncle Sokka also had a leg injury that never healed properly; even decades after the fact, he’d still faced flare ups. He’d told Kya that some days, all you can do is count your breaths and know each one brings you closer to tomorrow.
At the time, neither of them could have guessed that advice would end up being so pertinent to Kya's situation.
She squeezes her eyes shut, the pins and needles prickling at her leg worming their way up and down her limb until she’s sure everything from her thigh to her toes is being crushed under the weight of crumbling air temple stone, until she’s wishing for Ghazan’s lava to bubble up around her and put her out of her misery.
Her leg remains stiff, unmoving, aching. It’s as if it no longer belongs to her.
She doesn’t know how long she stays on the couch, half-lying down, eyes squeezed shut, trying to block out the pain. But she’s drawn out of her feverish haze by a blanket falling softly over her.
She cracks an eye open to find Lin looking down at her, haloed by sunlight.
“What do you need?”
Kya blinks, wondering if perhaps, this is just a dream. Lin should still be asleep, shouldn’t she?
But no - Lin reaches down, brushing Kya’s hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear. She presses a kiss to Kya’s forehead, and her lips cool, and Kya knows this is real. Lin may be a deep sleeper, but she is also an early riser. And she seems to have a sixth sense for when the people around her are struggling.
“Your leg is hurting, isn’t it?” Lin continues. “What can I do to help?”
Kya shrugs. There's nothing Lin can do to stop the pain, and she should be leaving for work soon anyways. Kya can manage on her own, or she can head to Air Temple Island for the day so the air acolytes can help her.
Lin raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms. Kya knows her well enough to know this means she will not be moving until Kya gives her an answer of some sort.
“‘m hungry,” Kya mumbles. She’d been on her way to the kitchen to look for food before the pain had stopped her in her tracks. She isn’t nearly as hungry now - her stomach is uncomfortably full from frustration and disappointment - but it’ll give Lin something to do. And it won’t take too much time, so Lin won’t have to be late for work.
“Anything specific you’d like?”
Kya shakes her head. She expects Lin to be exasperated by her non-answer, but instead, Lin just nods to herself makes her way to the kitchen. Kya watches her go, though it’s only a few seconds before her eyes slip shut again.
The pain comes in waves, and it’s eased a bit at the moment, though she knows it’s still too sharp for her to stand up. She focuses on her breaths, inhaling and exhaling, until the scent of something citrusy floats into the room.
She opens her eyes, maneuvering herself into a sitting position before looking over to the kitchen. Lin is standing at the counter, a fiery bright orange in her hands. It suddenly seems to be the only color in the entire apartment - the fruit in Lin’s hands and the peels discarded on the counter next to her. It’s something like watching her partner hold the sun.
She inhales again, deeper this time, savoring the smell as it wafts through the air. This scent is a pleasant sharpness, unlike the pain in her leg, and it pulls her from the gloom she’d fallen into. It draws up memories of times long since past.
She remembers the first time she’d ever eaten an orange; her dad had brought some back from a trip to the Fire Nation. He’d peeled one, split it in two, and handed a half to both Kya and Bumi. She remembers the tart juice washing over her tongue, remembers knowing she should savor each bite even back then.
She remembers eating oranges with Izumi in the fire nation, peeled by Uncle Sokka when they were young and by themselves as they grew older.
She remembers eating an orange alone on the dock of Air Temple Island, watching the boats in the bay, when Lin had come up next to her and asked if she could sit down. She’d confided in Kya, confessing that she was worried Tenzin didn’t love her anymore - that he’d found another girl he liked more. As she spoke, Kya handed her orange slices, hoping to offer her comfort through more than just words that she’s sure sounded empty.
Lin ate more of that orange than Kya did.
Kya tunes back into the present as Lin throws the bright pieces of orange peel in the trash. She carries the plate to Kya, hands it over, then sits down beside her. “Korra stopped the office yesterday. She said someone gave her a bag of oranges as a thanks for helping them, but there were more than she and Asami could eat on their own, so she offered some to both Mako and I.”
Kya hums as she picks up a slice, admiring the vibrant burst of color between her fingers. “They’re best fresh anyways.”
Lin nods in agreement.
Kya raises the slice to her mouth, biting into it. She holds half on her tongue, and sets the other half back on the plate. For a moment, she sucks on the orange to coax the juice out, then chews slowly, relishing the moment and how the tartness flooding her senses seems to ease the pain festering in her leg. Once she’s swallowed, she turns to face Lin. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?”
Lin shakes her head. “This is more important. They can survive without me for a couple hours.”
Something warm settles in Kya’s stomach - perhaps the sunlight orange bite she’d just swallowed. The Lin that Kya grew up beside valued very little outside of earning the title of Chief of Police and proving herself to be the best Chief Republic City had ever seen. She wouldn’t have stayed home for anyone.
“Are you sure?” Kya whispers.
“Kya,” Lin says her name like a promise - like a prayer. “I am more certain of you than I have ever been of anything else.”
The sunlight in Kya’s stomach expands, seeping into her veins, warming her limbs and chest. She presses the other half of the orange slice against her tongue, then leans her head on Lin’s shoulder.
“When you’re done eating, I’ll run a hot bath for you, alright?”
Kya nods. Heat helps with the pain, though the orange slices and the knowledge that she is loved are working well to warm her already. Perhaps it’s nothing more than a distraction, but Kya will take whatever she can get. She will hold onto love tightly, in whatever form it shows its face.
Lin has never been good with words, but Kya doesn’t need them. She hears the I love you loud and clear in the fruit slices and the blanket and the company and the promise of a warm bath.
She hopes Lin hears the same when she holds out an orange slice and says, “You should have some too. It’s a good one.”
Lin accepts it. She says nothing, but Kya hears I love you too.
The pain doesn’t disappear - it never will - but Kya doesn’t need it to. All she needs are orange slices and a shoulder to lean on.