Quick author note: I wrote this for a couple of reasons: I know how difficult isolation (and the accompanying silence) can be and I've worked with veterans suffering from PTSD. I wanted to flesh both of those ideas out a bit more, but only within the context of Korra and Asami's relationship. It's far from as extreme as it could be, but at the very least, I want to acknowledge how much these things can change a person. I've already completed the second chapter, and will post it when I finish the third. If I've learned anything from past stories, it's that if I bite off more than I can chew, the reader will suffer for it. So, if at all possible, I'm going to finish the story by the time the second or third chapter is posted.

Anyways, this is un-beta'd. Lol, sorry. Hit me up with thoughts and corrections in the reviews.

Korra had underestimated the silence that accompanied true isolation. When she'd first set out, crossing miles of wilderness on foot, she became distinctly aware of how different it was from the silence she'd maintained in the South Pole. There, despite her desire to be left alone, she was surrounded by people. Had she chosen to speak, there would be someone to listen only a few feet away.

But in the desert, disconnected from all other people, Korra finally understood the true weight of silence. In some ways, it was comforting, especially since there was no one constantly asking her if she was okay. They knew the answer before they asked, and yet felt spurred to do so anyways. She never graced them with an answer.

But the inverse was the lack of presence and the inability to vocalize her own crushing self-doubt to a listening ear. There was a safety in the white noise of her parents' home, a comforting presence in the shuffling of feet and clattering of pans that allowed her to maintain her silent vigil. What's more, she had, on rare occasion, lashed out in her frustration. These moments had only occurred during her healing sessions, and were always followed by a sincere apology to Katara, but she couldn't deny the relief she felt in vocalizing her inner turmoil.

And so, when she first began her journey, the silence had crushed whatever hope she had left.

In response, or perhaps out of desperation, she'd shed her traditional Southern Water Tribe garb and cut her hair. She then turned to her pack, determined to throw away any remaining personal items - beyond the bare essentials - when her fingers clasped around a stack of envelopes. She paused her movements, willing her heart to slow and frustration to subside, and slowly removed them from her bag.

Asami's neat scrawl could still be made out across the front of the first envelope, despite the wear from being read repeatedly. Korra stared at the stack in her hand for a long moment before untying the twine that bound them and opening the first one.

Later, when she made camp, she stared up into the night sky and replayed the words in her head like a mantra. She was still afraid and unbearably lost, but the letters had grounded her. She remembered, for the briefest of moments, that she was a person, first and foremost, and that there were those who still had faith in her. Asami's refusal to give up, despite Korra's two-year silence, had finally gotten through to her.

Three months later, Korra hardly remembered what life was like before the silence.

Asami realized, with an exasperated sigh, that she'd been reading the same contract for nearly half an hour and still had no idea what it said. It was unlike her to be so unfocused, especially with the way she had thrown herself into her work for the last two years.

It had been two weeks since she'd greeted Tenzin and Mako on Air Temple Island in anticipation of Korra's arrival, only to find that she'd been missing for nearly six months.

At the time, she'd grown uncharacteristically frustrated with the entire situation, failing to understand how someone as important as Korra could simply 'disappear'. It was later, when Mako found her on the docks, that she calmed. Apparently, Lin had seemed unphased by Korra's absence, explaining that she'd seen many soldiers and police officers, all struggling with PTSD, wander or disappear. While this explained why she left, it wasn't an assurance that she was safe or that she would return.

The only thing that had kept her tethered after that was the fact that Korra was still sending letters to her family. They were all fabricated, of course, but they were signs that she was alive and well wherever she was.

Setting down her pen and resting her head in her hands, Asami attempted to calm her thoughts long enough to finish her work. Breathing deeply, she sat up straighter, stacked her papers neatly, and began reading the contract once more.

She'd barely gotten three words in, however, when her phone rang. Asami had instructed her secretary to hold all calls until she was finished, so it was with an arched eyebrow that she tentatively picked up the phone.

"Asami Sato speaking."

"Asami, it's Tenzin," he began, and before Asami could ask, he continued, "the kids found her."

There was a deafening silence that followed his words and Asami's mind felt like it had been wiped clean. Struggling to put a sentence together, she simply asked, "Korra?"

"Yes," Tenzin continued, "Somewhere in the swamps. They just intercepted Kuvira in Zaofu and they're heading back now. We expect them back this evening."

Another beat.

"Is she okay?"

"From what the kids say, she's in good health," he began, "although, from the reports coming in, it would seem her altercation with Kuvira went poorly." He paused a moment, as though contemplating how much he should divulge. "I think I'll let her share the rest."

Asami breathed deeply. "I understand."

"Do you want me to have her call you when she gets in?"

Asami almost said yes automatically, when a reminder on the edge of her desk gave her an idea.

"Actually, I'm having lunch with Mako tomorrow. If Korra's feeling up to it, we'd love to see her again. Otherwise, I'll let her reach out when she's ready."

"I'll be sure to relay your invitation when she gets in."

"Thank you for calling me, Tenzin."

"Of course," he replied, "I knew you'd want to be the first to know."

Asami blushed, thankful that Tenzin couldn't see her face. Her time on Air Temple Island these last three years had been far from sparse, and on more than one occasion, Pema had given her a look that simply said, "I know."

Much later, contract completely forgotten, she'd wonder if that time would be worth anything in the end. Banishing the thought, she decided it was selfish to want anything more than Korra, safe and whole.