He'd always believed himself to be well-acquainted with the dark.

But this darkness was different.

Before, whenever there was darkness in his life, there had always been some source of light, no matter how small, to keep him grounded— to remind him that not all was lost.

In this dank, freezing dungeon, he was becoming familiarized with an entirely new species of darkness. The kind of darkness that creeps over one's entire body and consumes every last bit of light that stands in its way. The kind of darkness that consumes so fiercely that not even a speck of warmth can fight its way back in.

There was next to nothing to keep him grounded. Every second he spent sitting in there, he could feel himself slipping further and further into the dark.

A frigid gust of air brushed over his body and he shivered.

He'd been cold for so long, he could no longer remember what it felt like to be warm. He could no longer picture what it was like to be content or comfortable— what it felt like to feel safe.

This was his punishment, though, for being unable to do his job correctly. This was what he deserved. This was what all people like him deserved.

Traitor.

It felt like such a dirty word. Never in his life could he have imagined it would one day be associated with his name.

But he had to face the facts.

He was a traitor.

He wrapped his arms around his legs, trying his best to find even the smallest speck of body heat. He no longer had his Bending, but he was still born a Firebender. He wasn't used to being cold. He wasn't built for withstanding it.

Bitterness had long since implanted itself like a leech in his brain. He felt bitter towards almost everyone and almost everything.

But he didn't feel bitter for doing what he'd done. He didn't regret that decision.

He'd saved his brother from the clutches of the Equalists. Bolin was now safe, warm, and alive because of his actions. That was all that mattered.

He heard a door slam open down the hallway and he flinched. Squeezing his eyes shut, he mentally began to prepare himself for the pain that always followed.

They flew back open in shock when he heard the sound of a struggle.

"Let me go, you asshole!" he heard a voice hoarsely cough out.

He froze. His heart plummeted into his stomach. He couldn't breathe.

He'd know that voice anywhere.

"Zap her again."

Korra's pained cries echoed throughout the dungeon. He stood on shaky legs and fell heavily against the metal bars of his cell. Each one of her cries sent an actual jolt of pain through his own body.

"Now, I'll ask you nicely this time," Amon said as his boots clicked against the floor, "go into the Avatar State, please."

It was quiet for a few minutes before he heard Korra choke out, "Fuck off."

"Have it your way."

Her pained screams began anew, but he could barely hear it over somebody else's screaming. It took him a few minutes to realize the screaming was coming from him.

"STOP. LEAVE HER THE FUCK ALONE!" Mako growled, slamming his palms against the metal bars angrily.

"… Mako?" her small voice barely carried through the large dungeon.

"Mako, Mako, Mako…" Amon said, his voice echoing off of the stone walls, "shouldn't you be happy we finally caught the Avatar? Shouldn't you be excited about this?"

"It seems, Lieutenant," Amon continues, his boots clicking against the floor once again, "that we have yet to fix Mako. He still has a soft spot for The Avatar. Now, my adoptive father had a theory he often put into practice. 'Soft spots are a weakness… and weaknesses must be beaten into submission'. I think, to rid Mako of his traitor-like tendencies, we must first rid him of his weakness."

Before Mako could process Amon's words, Korra's ear-splitting cries of agony began again. They wouldn't stop. None of it would stop. He threw himself against the bars of his cell until he was bruised and battered, he screamed until he was hoarse, he begged and pleaded for them to take him instead. But her screams wouldn't cease.

He curled into a ball in the middle of his cell, shaking and twitching.

He wasn't just a traitor…

He was also useless.

Korra was in agony… and he could do nothing to save her.

Amon's cruel laughter bounced off of the walls and around his cell.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force himself to get up… to force himself to crawl out of the darkness he'd slipped into and fight for the woman he loved.

Korra had always been that light in his life— one of the only things that kept him grounded and hopeful. But, as he was forced to listen to that light being extinguished, he could do nothing more than lay there and wait for the darkness to consume him entirely.

He had always believed himself to be well-acquainted with the dark…

… but he now knew how wrong he was.


(( eeeep ))