Just some residual feels from the finale I needed to work through. Enjoy!
It was difficult, watching her.
This wasn't supposed to happen. None of it was supposed to happen. Zaheer wasn't supposed to capture her, he wasn't supposed to poison her, he wasn't supposed to fight her, and he wasn't supposed to kill her. But he did. Whether or not her heart had actually stopped didn't matter. To Mako, for a few terrible, sickening seconds, he'd lost her. She'd been stolen from the world.
When Korra had been revived, however, sweet, satisfying relief never graced Mako. He'd seen the scars she would forever carry before they formed.
This day, in spite of everything, served as a temporary escape from it all. This was about Jinora finally becoming the full-fledged airbending master she so rightfully deserved to be. But everyone knew it meant more than that. This was a step towards the rebuilding of the Air Nation, the Air Nation for which the Avatar would lay down her life.
He knew Korra wouldn't miss this for the world. But seeing her sitting in her wheelchair, politely chatting with the other guests, Mako saw something no one else did. Her physical taxation was obvious, her tiredness evident under her eyes. But Mako saw the scars. He saw the internal trauma she carried, dark and heavy, not unlike the metal used to poison her. Except this poison was her own, steadfast and irremovable. Yet here she was, smiling weakly as people came up and thanked her.
Mako had always thought she looked beautiful in that dress.
He awoke to a scream that was not his own. He didn't need to think to know where he needed to go. He ran down the hall and flung open the door he knew was Korra's. The small room was lit only by the pale light of the moon streaming through the open windows, as the white curtains billowed gently in the slight breeze. His eyes swept around the room before falling on the recumbent form of the Avatar. Her eyes were squeezed shut, as if in pain, while lines of tears streaked down her face and onto the thin sheets. In her weakened state she lay still, arms at her sides, silent sobs wracking her body.
Mako quietly made his way to her sleeping pallet, so as not to startle her. He slipped one of his arms under her bare knees and the other across her back. He gently lifted her upwards, drawing her to him. She weakly brought her arms up to wrap around his neck and buried her face in his chest, her tears staining his t-shirt. He leaned himself against the wall and slid down to the floor. He held her tightly, being careful not to cause her any pain. Her sobs became his as he rested his chin atop her head, his tears landing softly in her hair.
He didn't ask what had awoken her that night. He didn't have to.
She was deteriorating. Mako saw it, Korra saw it, everyone saw it. Yet she was letting it happen. She would normally stand up and fight whatever opposed her, instead she became a witness to her own slow demise.
She wouldn't eat. She wouldn't sleep through the night. Some days she wouldn't come out of her room. Mako watched her halfheartedly push a few grains of rice around her bowl at dinner one night before politely telling Pema that she wasn't hungry. Asami then wheeled Korra back to her room, the door closing like the lid of a coffin.
Mako lightly rapped on the door before pushing it open. Korra sat in her chair, her eyes fixated on a point in the distance. Asami was whispering something in her ear, whether or not Korra was paying attention was unclear. Asami stood up and made her way to the threshold, taking a second to look up at Mako with sad, tired eyes before slipping past him. The air hung thick around Mako and Korra, laced with questions and pain and words unsaid.
"Korra-"
"Go away." Her voice was soft, and her eyes never lifted to meet his.
"I just want you to know that I'm here for you." Somehow this conversation seemed familiar.
"Go away, Mako." She lifted her gaze now, meeting his with eyes that revealed the internal scars she had been harboring inside her. The baby blue, the bright, eager, and fierce color of her eyes, had dulled, leaving nothing but a mere glimpse of what they were and who she used to be. Her eyes had glossed over, as if they were trapping her soul inside her own body, keeping the world from her and her from the world.
Something broke within Mako in that moment. "No." His voice was wavering. "No," he declared again, rushing over to where Korra sat in a bout of urgency. He kneeled on the floor in front of her chair, cupping her face between his gloved hands. "I'm not leaving you. Not now, not ever." He kissed her cheek, her forehead, her temples, her lips. He kissed away the tears that streamed down her face, and he kissed the eyelids that hid the pain she carried within her.
He didn't tell her he loved her. He didn't have to.