His memories of his father are blurred around the edges; like a water-stained painting, film left out in the sun. But even though Mako can't remember the exact shape of his eyes or the proper length of his hair, he remembers being swooped up into long, strong arms, strong enough to encase him in a cot of flesh and bone that the dangers of the world could not penetrate. He was absolutely invulnerable, undoubtably safe. And the red scarf that was a permanent fixture around his father's neck, he would bury his face into, and it smelt like his father and his little pocket of safety, and so Mako began to associate the smell and feel and colour of that red scarf with the one thing that in years to come he would constantly crave; safety.

When his parents died, Mako was only bequeathed one thing; a red scarf (though it was not so much bequeathed as taken). And he wound it around his neck so that when the going got tough he could just lower his chin, let a familiar scent fill his nose, familiar material rub against his face, familiar red fill his vision, and pretend to be safe. It was his one little moment of selfishness; the one thing that was his in it's entirety. He would give Bolin his coat when it was cold, his food when he was hungry, his life if there was danger; but the scarf he would not concede to his brother, the person he loved most in the entire world. Because sometimes Mako, who was trying so hard to become that pocket of safety for his brother, needed to feel safe and protected as well; if he didn't, maybe he would crumble. And he couldn't do that to Bolin.

Years passed. His scarf became faded and frayed. His brother grew strong and tall, and Mako's relief was indescribable that Bolin had turned out so well, all things considered. Bolin was strong and healthy and happy, and seeing his brother smile was the richest reward he could ever receive after years of hardship on the streets. But they weren't safe, not just yet. They were scraping by, living day to day, a precarious lifestyle, one wrong move or missed rent away from crashing back down the ladder they had tried so hard to scale. So Mako wore his scarf and worked his jobs, and time passed.

Then the Avatar entered their lives, and initially Mako disliked her, because her blue eyes flashed dangerously, her muscles were well defined, her stature was confident and she just bled not safe. She was different to the other girls that Bolin tried to charm, because those girls blushed and giggled and tittered and annoyed, but this one was energetic and confident and a little bit spoiled. So Mako tried to restrain any possible attachments that the girl could form to the brothers by dismissing her and being cold to her and trying to scare her off and then whey-hey, she's the Avatar. The most dangerous person in the world – but also the strongest. Antagonising her wouldn't be the wisest move... but they didn't they had to be friends.

Then Bolin went missing, and with a tweak of irritation he went to Air Temple Island, where he assumed Bolin had gone, because his brother seemed quite taken with the young Avatar. He wasn't there, though, so Mako set out to search for his younger sibling, alone, when -

'Hey, cool guy – let me help you.'

Mako had never needed help. He was always the one helping. But her hand clutching his sleeve and those earnest blue eyes... Plus the fact that she had a giant polar bear dog didn't hurt.

He said yes.

They followed the trail and became involved with something that Mako's gut warned him not to get close too ('I can't believe Bolin got himself into this mess!). This whole thing was not safe. The triads, the Equalists, the Avatar-

But then there was a warm hand on his shoulder. People didn't touch him, with the exception of his brother; he wasn't exactly friendly and inviting. He didn't have friends. But this girl was so free and giving with her physical expressions of comfort; first at the island, now here. And the words;

'Mako. We are going to save your brother. I promise you that.'

He didn't know if he believed her, and her words, however honest they were, couldn't stop the worry that was eating away at him inside, but right now, she was all he had. So he wrapped his scarf around his neck and off they went.


She pried and pulled and was so clumsy with her words. He snapped at her. But told her the truth. He pulled his scarf over his chin, tried to hide from the pity in her eyes in the smell of well-worn red fabric. And when he woke up beside someone else for the first time in years, his first feeling was of content. Well, before the shock kicked in.

Then puzzles needed to be solved and they tracked Bolin to the Revelation. They needed a disguise, of course; they weren't exactly unknown, Korra most of all. While Mako knew the danger he himself was facing, he also knew that the danger Korra was entering into was ten times worse. And although they hadn't known each other too long, and she was bull-headed and spoiled and said the wrong things, he didn't want to think of what would happen to her if she were caught. He wanted her to be safe.

He passed her his scarf.

The first time since his parents demise that he had parted with the scrap of red material. But he wrapped it firmly around her neck so she could pull it over her mouth as he had so many times in the past, and maybe, hopefully, it would keep her safe too.