One.

He watched helplessly as she was bloodbent, her body being forced to do things it simply could not. He watched Tarrlok's deadly fingers control her and cause her unimaginable pain.

Two.

He watched as she was carelessly thrown aside, as if she weren't the precious gem she was. He watched her plummet to the ground and land with a sickening thud.

Three.

He watched as she struggled to get up and fight back, only to be pushed down once again. He watched the smirk on Tarrlok's face when he knew he had the Avatar at his mercy.

Four.

He watched the look in her eyes, the usual combination of stubbornness and determination was now tainted with paralyzing fear. He watched as they softly fluttered shut.

"No." It came out as a whisper, though it stung like a scream. He quickly sat up and began to pant heavily, still trying to distinguish whether it was real or not. It wasn't, but it might has well have been. Korra had returned home safely, but these nightmares still haunted Mako. The firebender wiped the sweat off of his forehead and walked out of the room. His legs functioned without the command of his brain, which was still half conscious. He walked outside and sat on the ground, not caring about the temperature or the hour of night. He mulled this nightmare over and over again, trying to tell himself it was only a bad dream, without success. He felt the need to be there with her, to protect her. This was absurd, of course, she was the Avatar. She knew how to handle herself. She was strong, stubborn, loyal, and purely amazing. Still, he felt it necessary to keep her safe. He was aware now of how much he cared about her and loved her. He hated himself for ever pushing her away.

He walked back inside; certain he wouldn't sleep for the rest of the night. He softly and silently entered Korra's room, yet again checking to see that she was alright.

One.

He watched her sleeping form lay still underneath the thin sheets. He watched her chest rise and fall steadily, the universal sign of life.

Two.

He watched her dark hair fall down the pillow and waterfall over her shoulders. He watched it wave and swoop around her face, lying freely as opposed to her typical updo.

Three.

He watched her face, usually scrunched up in determination, lay softly on the pillow. He watched the gentle curve of her jawline and the light smile that played on her lips.

Four.

He watched her eyes shift slightly underneath her eyelids. He watched the closed eyes that meant peaceful sleep, and not death.

Nightmares can be tolerable, but only if there are dreams.