Disclaimer: I own nothing but the words I've written.

There's fire, fire everywhere, and she's got to go, got to go before the whole building comes down. She's choking already, struggling to breathe in the smoke-filled air. Waterbending, earthbending, firebending – it's all useless here. She leaps past another burning beam, making for the exit.

Damn those smoke grenades. And those electric fires.

She sees it, a patch of night sky amidst the burning wreckage. She dodges another falling wood beam. The patch grows larger, larger, she's almost out-

A metal beam comes out of nowhere, screeching through the air as it hurtles toward her. She can't move, can't move, there's no time to avoid it-

"Korra!"

Red dots dance before her eyes. The world blurs, and then all is black. The last thing she sees is a flash of gold irises and a red scarf that swims before her eyes. A gloved hand grabs her own...

She is sleeping.

At least, that's what he tells himself. Everyday, he's come in and looked at her limp, unmoving form, at her broken, lifeless body, and told himself she was sleeping, ignoring the familiar stab of heartbreak.

She had to be.

For Bolin, for Asami, for Tenzin, for everybody.

But most of all, she had to be. For him.

"Korra." He whispers in a choked voice, his throat clogged by the heartrending pain that won't stop, won't go away, that feels like a million volts of lightning coursing through him. The whisper carries in the quiet, lifeless room.

He gently takes one tanned, olive hand in his own, trembling as he holds it with both hands. Molten topaz eyes stare at it, and tears threaten to blur his vision again, because it hurts, it hurts so much to see her like this, weakened and injured.

Most of all, it hurts to know he couldn't have done anything.

He shouldn't be feeling this way, feeling like his whole body aches, like he was the one hit by the metal beam thrown by that mecha tank. But he can't help it, can't help the tears that slip from his amber eyes and fall like butterfly kisses onto her skin, can't help his breaking heart. He's close to breaking down, but he holds it in.

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he cares. Cares for the crazy, unpredictable girl that overturned his life. He wants to see those sapphire eyes looking at him again, narrowed at him in that familiar smug smirk he loves so much. He wants to hear her tease him and call him a jerk again. He wants to get drenched with a wave of water during practice. He wants to hear those words that come floating from the past, from that part of his mind where he'll always be able to find her.

"You and I, we're made for each other." He croaks out, trying to dam the river of tears that threaten to cascade out of his eyes.

If only.

He wipes the wetness from his eyes with one tattered end of his scarf, and leaves. He looks back one last time, and turns away quickly, before the torrent of pain spills from his eyes again. The door clicks quietly as he leaves for the day. He has to be strong for her now, because she was strong for him first.

He's running like a madman, sprinting through the streets with half the buttons on his jacket undone. His hair is still disheveled and his scarf is thrown haphazardly around his neck, in an attempt to ward off the frigid night air. His heart races at the speed of sound as his footsteps echo in his wake.

Damn his luck.

The one night he goes back to his apartment after a week of sleeping at the hospital, Bolin calls excitedly in the dead of night. In his frantic babbling, Mako makes out – just barely – that she's woken up. He can hardly believe his ears as he slams the phone down, and within a minute he's dashing out the door, not bothering to close or lock it.

It's not far to the hospital, but he's slightly out of breath as he scrambles past the double sliding doors. The cold, air-conditioned air chills him as he makes for the lift.

It seems like forever before he's pushing open those familiar swing doors, with a glimmer of hope sparking anew as he walks into the sterile white room, the room with the lingering smell of death, the room he's become so used to over the past week.

Fiery orange eyes meet sparkling crystal blue, and his heart stops for an instant.

"Korra?"

A/N: This is my first ever fic, and I'm not sure whether I got Mako's personality down. It's not a one-shot, going to post the next chapter if I get good reviews :D so R&R, and tell me how you liked this short prologue. Thanks! :D Next chapter will definitely be longer, though I'm not sure when I'll be able to post.

Also, sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes I made :3