I haven't written anything in a long while, so I'm a bit apprehensive with this one. But after that finale I guess I was itching to write something and this came into my head. First ever Legend of Korra fic so tell me how you find it I guess :)

PS. I don't own any of these characters. And I think we know who they do belong to.

She is looking up into the night sky when I find her, and with her being so loud normally I'm surprised she was able to sneak out. But she hasn't been acting normally these past few days.

For someone so lively, so outgoing and loud, it is unnatural how quiet she has been over the last few days, even if it is understandable. Her eyes glisten with tears but she refuses to shed them, not in front of me, not in front of anyone else and certainly not in front of herself. As disheartening as it sounds, hearing her cry would be a relief. Because that would tell me that she is slowly recovering, that she is letting emotion seep through, admitting weakness but accepting it, starting the slow but steady road to heal.

But whenever I see her now, her eyes look so dead that it breaks my heart.

I accost myself for bringing my own sorrow into this when what she is going through is clearly a million times worse. I know what it is like to fall, to fail. Many days in my past I have felt that I failed Bolin, failed myself. But there it is, I guess. The one constant, Bolin, always kept me going. When I was on the edge of despair, the thought of him going hungry again pushed me through. On the nights I hated myself for the crimes I committed, the work I was involved in, again Bolin's safety kept me going. Through thick and thin, good and bad, I always had him. Me and my brother, against the world.

I think she feels she has no one right now.

That isn't true, and everyone seems to know that but her. She has Asami, whom she has built a steady friendship with over the past few months. There's Bolin, the one always good for a smile even on the blackest of days. And then there's Tenzin, Pema, Tonraq, Senna, Katara, Jinora, hell, even Naga and Pabu, all who are there for her and waiting on her beck and call should she ask for them. And then there's me, I guess. Shit, even with all we've been through, the ups and downs, the awkward fumbling and the walls we've erected between us (or more accurately, I erected), I'm still here, if she needs me. If she wants me even after what I've done. She has so many people willing to listen, willing to comfort her, and yet she pushes them away. And a part of me is frustrated that she can't see that.

Yet, I know that I can't think that. It's hypocritical and childish to think that way, because as much as we love to say that it's okay, that we understand, we don't. We have absolutely no idea what she is going through. Hell, we have no idea what it means to be her. To be the freaking Avatar, to carry the burden of two worlds on your back. And we have certainly no idea what it is like to be beaten as severely as she has.

She looks out over the smooth water as it ripples beneath her. For a minute I am worried about what she might be thinking. She is in a dark place right now, no question. I know what you can think when desperation breaks through your mind and dark thoughts start to seep in. But then as quickly as they appear, these thoughts are dismissed. Because it's her. Because it's Korra. Because she's too strong, too powerful, too iron-willed to give in. Right?

I wish I could help her, but I can't get the nagging thought that I'm not the person she needs right now out of my head. She needs stability, assurance, something only her parents or her mentors can give her, not thoughts of awkward romance and what if scenarios from the guy who's hurt her before. From the guy who moved on to another in one fucking week. It was unacceptable and I know it, and no amount of denials that I was looking for comfort or that 'she kissed me and I was confused' can mask it.

So yes, I know that I'm not what she needs right now. Yet it aches me so much to see her so broken. It's haunting how emotionless she is being, like Zaheer's poison is still in there somewhere, nibbling away at her insides, corrosive and destructive, refusing to leave inside her mind. And I feel I have to do something, anything, even if its selfish of me to try.

"Are you going to stay there all night?" she calls to me, her voice quiet. She knows I've been here for a while it seems, and she sounds tired, like she's about to hear some more meaningless 'It's okay, I'm here for you' conversational bullshit. And I know she deserves so much more than that, so instead I say "Just looking in the sky. Nice night, isn't it?"

"Yep," she glumly responds, and lapses into silence once again, mindful of my presence but unwilling to acknowledge me further until I've said my piece and left.

"Listen, Mako. Just say it and go. Say that it'll be okay, that you'll be here for me whenever I need you. It's all I hear anymore," she sighs bitterly. Her voice is laced with venom but also with resignation, and I think I just about break in two as I hear it.

"I wasn't going to say that actually," I begin, trying to pick my words just right. I don't want her to hurt more than she already is hurting. "I was going to ask how your recovery is going. Asami told me you broke new ground the other day."

She sighs derisively. "Broke new ground," she mutters sarcastically. "Mako, I walked a few feet on crutches and had to rest for an hour after. I hardly 'broke new ground'. Now, could you please just go? I'd rather be alone right now."

This is clearly very difficult for her, to feel so weak and helpless. She deserves her privacy, her right to be alone and to deal with her own problems in her own way. I know this. And yet, I'm stubborn. I want to help, and right now she can't really stop me trying to aid her. I steel myself for her next reaction because she is not going to like what I'm about to say.

"That may be what you want, but it's not what you need," I reply resolutely, and immediately her eyes narrow and she turns to me, anger evident in her deep blue eyes. But despite this, I stay firm and hold her gaze.

"What I need? Mako, you have no idea what I need. You never have. Now get lost," she snarls, and although her words are stinging this feels like a victory. Because even if she is furious, she is feeling something other than sorrow and emptiness. And if she needs to vent her anger at me, so be it.

"Korra, please. We're all here for you." She rolls her eyes at that one, like she has heard it before. She probably has too, but it doesn't make it any less true. "You can't just sit around in your own little bubble of despair. That will get you nowhere, believe me."

"Oh, this is rich," she laughs. "Are you trying to help me in some weird way? Shock me into healing? Mako, get it through your head. I want to be alone. You of all people should understand that. Go away."

"No," I answer, and I can tell her frustration is rising. "I'm not leaving until you wake up from this depression of yours. It's not good for you. If anything, you were lucky."

"I was lucky?!" Yep, this one has definitely hit a nerve. "Mako, look at me. Take a good long look. I can't walk, can't eat, I can't even dress myself without assistance at the moment. A child is capable of every single one of those things. And I'm supposed to be the Avatar. I'm supposed to protect the people around me, not be coddled by them. What kind of Avatar am I? Would Aang have lost this bad? No, he wouldn't." She is on a rampage now, letting all her bottled up rage out. "Zaheer nearly killed me. He nearly killed my father, he could have killed you or Bolin any time he wanted when he had you, and he threw the Earth Kingdom into chaos. Chaos that I should be cleaning up, as is my duty. But instead I'm stuck in this fucking wheelchair, staring out into the sea, completely useless to anyone and everyone around me!" she growls, and even in her weakened state she looks fierce, like she's ready to bite off the ear of anyone who'll dare come near her. "And you go ahead and say that I'm lucky? How on Earth did you come up with that?"

"Because you're alive," I answer abruptly. I can tell we are getting to the heart of the issue now, her dealing with being the Avatar and the responsibilities that come with it. Responsibilities that she must feel that she failed.

But first, I have to get this off my chest, no matter how selfish it may be. "Korra, if any one of us went up against Zaheer, he would have killed us. You are the only reason that madman isn't out there causing more havoc. You said it yourself, he threw the Earth Kingdom into chaos. Just think of all the other damage he could have done to the world. He could've gone to Republic City, that is if Amon hadn't already tried to conquer it. Or he might never have had the chance because Vaatu would have plunged us into eternal darkness by now."

I hope that these words get through to her but still she glares, defiant as ever, and flashes of Korra, the girl I know is in there peeks through her visor of emptiness. She attempts to speak so I cut her off, determined that she hears this. "Korra, what I'm trying to say is that you're bruised. Broken, numb, empty, however you want to describe it. But you aren't beaten. You're right here in front of me. And I'm not attending your funeral right now. Is that not good enough?"

She seems to pause to ponder this, and when she speaks next there is less anger, just resignation in her tone. "Just because I beat Zaheer doesn't mean I won," she sighs. The cloud seems to settle over her again and she looks defeated once more. "If anything, the airbenders are the reason I'm still breathing right now. Or Suyin. Everybody else won their fight. Bolin can lava bend. Jinora got her tattoos, you beat that armless lady, the list goes on. And while I'm happy for all of you, you did these things by yourselves. You didn't need my help. And when I was needed, me, the Avatar was needed to step up and bring my A-game, I... I didn't. I let myself get captured by Zaheer and his cronies, barely survive their attempt on my life, and nearly get myself and every other future Avatar get wiped out. For good."

She sounds so brittle, like any slight movement and she could break. It gives me this feeling that chills me to the bone, as that isn't Korra. She has always been strong, always kept it together whatever the situation, even when she was scared or hurt or didn't believe she could pull through. To see her like this now is... haunting.

"I am not a good Avatar," she says so quietly I almost miss it. "I'll never be like Aang, or Roku or Kyoshi or any of them. And I know it."

The admission is so startling, so straight from the soul that it shocks me. The way she says it, the way she has always talked about her past lives with pangs of regret or suggestion of inadequacy, it... She's been crippled by this thought her entire life.

"You..." I say slowly. "You think about this a lot, don't you? That you'll never live up to them. And with all that's happened recently... It's just made it a million times worse, hasn't it?"

"Bingo, Detective," she answers, looking back over the water again, anger seemingly spent. "Are you happy now?" she asks absently. "Because I think I'm done talking for the moment."

I don't answer, not right away. I should have seen this. Spirits, how did I not see this? Of course her physical injuries wouldn't be the ones that wound most. She's always struggled with who she is, what's expected of her, and she tries so hard not to let anyone down, even if they don't deserve the kindness she tries to provide. And for a moment I just get it, so crystal clear and true.

The Avatar doesn't just keep the balance between two worlds, they embody them, protect them, service them until they are spent, leaving aside their own personal happiness for the good of others. And I kick myself for not figuring this out sooner.

I make to leave. I think she's right; we're done talking for the moment. But as I leave, I get an idea. And as ideas do, it germinates inside my head, growing and blossoming to full bloom and before I know it I'm walking back over to Korra.

"Mako..." she hears me approach again. "I said-"

"I know what you said," I reply, almost apologetically. "But, please, humour me. Just for a minute, and then I'll leave. If you want."

She sighs, but waves her hand, telling me to go on. I take the opportunity to talk and grasp it with both hands.

"Right. You know that birthmark you have, on the small of your back?" I ask, trying to keep any suggestive awkwardness out of my tone. She clearly wasn't expecting this, as she whips her head around in surprise. The knowledge we share of each other bodies belong to a different time in our lives, and we both know it. Which is probably why she seems particularly startled when I mention it.

"I remember you telling me that it's a scar. A burden all Avatars from now on will share. Aang was in a situation just like yours. He was fighting for his life inside Ba Sing Se, his back to the wall, and he went into the Avatar State. And it nearly killed him."

She nods, possibly wondering where I'm going with this. I take it as a sign I should continue. "He messed up. He made a mistake, and it nearly cost him everything. He wasn't some celestial being, even if he had the power of one. He was human."

"And you see, that's the thing. Before I met you, before when my only knowledge of Aang was that massive statue outside Republic City, I only thought of him as the Avatar. That's all anyone seemed to think of him. They'd say how powerful he was, how he fought armies and defeated warlords singlehandedly. They would say so many things about him. But what they never talked about what was the man. Not the Avatar, but the person. Aang was just a kid when he fought the Fire Nation. He made mistakes, and he continued to make mistakes throughout his life. Because he was human, Korra. Not because he was a bad Avatar."

"Mako," she says dismissively. "You can't apply that kind of logic. People still saw him as a symbol of hope. They saw how powerful he was, not who he was inside. It didn't matter to them."

"Yes, it didn't," I agree. "But that's not... Listen, what I'm trying to say is... Aang wasn't perfect. If he hadn't ran away from home when he was a kid, maybe he could've stopped the Fire Nation sooner. Spirits, Roku could have stopped the whole thing from ever happening in the first place. Korra, if you're a bad Avatar, then so are they. They were people, not gods."

I have one more last thing to say, and then I'm gone. And I really wish that she takes this last bit on board, because this is what really matters. In a spur of confidence, I reach forward, until I'm kneeling down next to her, those ocean blue eyes staring into mine.

"If Aang was here right now, he wouldn't be mad at you. He wouldn't accost you, or blame you, or do any of those things. Because you are a hero, Korra, Avatar or not. You stopped a bloodthirsty tyrant from subjugating an entire city. You prevented an apocalypse ten thousand years in the making. And you brought two worlds together and managed to bring the Air Nation back from the brink of extinction. That is what you'll be remembered for. Not for one moment of defeat. Being the Avatar doesn't define you. And when me or Bolin or Asami or any one of us get asked what you, Korra, the person underneath is like, I'll tell them. I'll say that you are the bravest, loudest, kindest and downright craziest woman I'll ever know," I smile, hoping that I can somehow bring a smile to her face too. "And that the whole damn world should love her like we all do."

I didn't mean for that last bit to get out, but looking at her I find it doesn't matter. Because this slip up of a confession means more than a simple declaration of love. It means that the world will remember her for the great woman that she is, not for her moments of weakness. They'll remember her as their saviour, and will rightfully take her place among the Avatars of old when her time comes.

I look at her again, and finally, finally, she stops looking so downcast. A spark flashes in her eyes as they glisten in the moonlight and she seems to have finally broken through her self-imposed barrier of depression. Her face seems to take on an understanding, and the side of her lips slowly turn upwards, hesitant but undoubtedly there.

"Thank you."

She says it so quietly I'm not quite sure I hear it, but the way her lips move tell me that it is so. And in this moment it doesn't matter that she's in a wheelchair or that the Red Lotus are still out there. All that matters is that Korra is the one people are trying to help, not because she is the Avatar but because of who she is: A kind, caring, protective and fierce woman who needs time to heal.

I turn to go, but I feel her hand cusp mine before I do.

"Stay," she murmurs. "Just until I have to go back in."

I'll stay forever if she asks me to.

"Sure."

I sit down next to her and we watch the stars shine in the night sky.

Thanks for reading :)