A/N: My first Makorra fanfic! ^_^ Based off a headcanon I saw on Tumblr. Enjoy! (I don't own LoK by the way. If you thought I did you got loki'd my friend.)

She remembers everything. Especially in her dreams.

First, it's the terror.

The bombs, the screams of children being ripped apart from their families, the scent of sewage from their hiding spot under ruining her sense of smell, the smoke filled sky. She remembers the thousands of cruel eyes in the arena, willing to destroy a family for their own bigotry filled reasons. She remembers the hundred or so who did not make it. Who would never make it.

And she remembers the masked bastard.

His rough hands crashing down to her face, making contact with her skin, causing goosebumps to rise across her, and using blood bending to cut off her connection to the elements. She remembers the searing pain, frustration, and despair she felt as her limbs refused to follow her instruction. Every nerve was on fire, each limb twitching and burning, two forces of the human body working against each other instead of with each other. How she couldn't capture him. How she couldn't really avenge any one of the lives he took away. She remembers failing ... And losing her bending. One of the two things that made her, well, her.

Most of all, she remembers almost losing the other thing that made her herself.

She remembers seeing his body twitch, and get thrown, and dragged. She remembers when they came back to a charred home, pieces of it burnt, much of the ground destroyed. The most painful memory though, is when she helped him out of the jacket he had been wearing and he yelped before she even touched him.

His back was covered in bruises, scraps, and cuts. His skin was burnt, and she wondered if it was maybe because of how he twisted when Amon bent him while he was bending. She wondered if it was because of his own flames.

It's the most painful memory though, because at the end of the month graves had been respectfully dug. She had restored bending to those who lost it. The temple had been fixed. There were barely any cruel eyes left, and though they still hung there they held no higher power. Smoke from chimneys and restaurants filled the streets again, not rise from falling debris. There were no bombs. Children screamed for the candy vendors, or at each other for messing up games. Amon was gone, had been, and something in her gut told her he always would be. All was well in the city, but ...

Mako's back had not yet healed.

She tried to remind herself how much time it would take for him to be well again. He couldn't just Avatar state himself back to normal. Mentally though, he seemed alright; when he talked to her about joining the police his eyes were sparked with new found determination. His mind was set, he was going to help the city once again. Only he'd have to wait, because Chief Beifong had not cleared him due to his bad back.

Which, once again, was Korra's fault.

If she had been quicker, not let her guard down, if she had done anything differently ... Then he would be ok. She knew he would be ok. It was all her fault he wasn't.

So when the nightmares come, where Amon is once again whole and back for more, she can't fight them. She can't win.

The bad memories over take her once again. She cries at how terrible she was, how awfully she had tried to defeat Amon. Korra can't even remember exactly how she did it to be honest, she only remembers a rush, a declaration, and then Amon falling out the window and through the sky. The fogged memory can't beat her nightmare.

She thinks she deserves them, deserves the pain they bring her for all she caused.

So when Mako starts interrogating her one morning about screams he heard coming from her room during the night before, or the bags under her tired eyes, she brushes him off. Gives him a lame excuse.

It's bullshit, and they both know it, but Mako says nothing.

He just leans against the rim of the sink, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyebrows furrowed as he frowns at the ground. She can't handle his silence, especially since she knows he can tell she's lying, and Korra leaves swiftly mumbling something about practice.

Later that night, when the sky is dark and she can't even see the stars, Korra cries again. She tries to keep it hush, but the memories resurface each time she closes her eyes. The cruel, twisted pain.

She can't handle this.

Korra climbs out of bed, and she carefully slips out of the women's housing before going to the men's rooms. She needs to see him breathing, and alive, and well ... As ok as he is going to be for the time being.

When she gets to his room though, the light is on.

Before she can even turn around, the door opens and he pulls her inside by her wrist. She swallows her pride and lets him sit her down on the bed before he kneels in front of her, hands intertwined.

His eyes search in hers, and when she mumbles, "I can't sleep," he nods because he gets it.

Silently, he turns the light on, lays beside her in his bed, and he wraps his arms around her waist before burying his face in the crook of her neck. He kisses her when he feels tears slip off her cheeks and onto his own.

"I get it Korra," It's a small reassurance but it's there, and they lay in silence for a moment before he adds, "It's ok to have bad dreams, everyone has them."

She huffs, kind of pathetically due to the lump in her throat.

"But I don't like having them," She almost croaks out, and he has to kiss her neck to keep his small chuckle from surfacing.

Damn her cute, pouty stubbornness.

Damn her nightmares.

He just wants to kiss her until she sees stars in her eyes, until the nightmares go away for good, because he knows what it's like. For the first few months after his parents' deaths, that was all he dreamed about. The pain, the hatred, the things he could have never controlled but he still blamed himself for.

And he wants to destroy Amon over and over again for making her feel that way.

His grip tightens around her, and he presses his lips to her ear, trying to convey every emotion he feels towards this amazing, stubborn, wonderful girl to her.

"I love you, Korra."

She turns until she can see his face and she whispers, "I love you too."

And they kiss until they need air, and then he holds her because that's what she needs. She needs to know he's alive and it's thanks to her he's still here. She needs to know he feels bad for not protecting her well enough too, even to the point where she almost killed herself. That he dreams each night about what might have happened had she not entered the Avatar state that day, and it kills him too because he really is in love with her.

"Mako," She asks, drawing circles on his tank top covered chest with her finger tips.

"Yeah Korra?"

"I know will sound stupid, but ... How did I defeat ... You know ... Amon?"

He's a little dumbfounded that she would forget, especially after talking over it with Tenzin so much.

"You ...," He stumbles, his mind trailing but he catches himself, "You had hope."

"Hope? I thought I used airbending," She says until she trails off into her thoughts.

"Well yeah, you did, but you wouldn't have been able to airbend without hope. I guess, you had some source of hope in maybe still being able to bend at least something, and I don't know, you just airbent instead."

She thinks about this and hums her approval before he kisses her temple and she can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps.

"Hope. I think maybe," But she yawns because she's tired and soon she lets sleep overcome her too.

And later that night she dreams on about defeating Amon once again despite his return, despite her fear, despite the repeat of senseless terror and violence.

She does it with the hope of being able to protect the boy she loves.