Mako is awoken suddenly by the creaking of the mattress as two feet hit the bamboo floorboards with a soft thud. He turns to his side, opening one amber eye slightly. Why is she awake at this hour of the night? He watches the silhouette of her-she's panting, and he watches as droplets of sweat race down her back. Her dark hair spills over her shoulders in a tangled array, and she sweeps it to one side with a move of her hand. Mako watches very still as she crosses the room and leaves in rapid footsteps. He hears them echo down the hallway, then finally fade into a dull hush as she finally leaves the building.
He opens both eyes wide, sitting up. He plants his bare feet on the ground. This is Korra's room, and he isn't supposed to be here. The last time Tenzin found them in a room alone and together, well...thank the spirits Korra was there to talk her airbending master out of slitting his throat.
He grabs a jacket that was littered haphazardly on the floor from a late night call, then slips out the girls' dormitory. He is greeted outside with the fragrance of cherry blossoms in the breeze and cool air that raises goosebumps. Mako can see Korra's silhouette leaving the courtyard, and hastens his footsteps to follow. She climbs the gradual hill on a rocky footpath, where the wind rustles leaves and whispers quiet messages for those who wait to hear, which clearly she isn't going to do. He knows where she's headed: to the cliffs where her friends found her sobbing so long ago, sobbing in terror of Amon, sobbing in fear of losing her bending. It's my favorite spot on the island, she'd told him one evening quietly, her breath by his ear. I can see everything, and I feel like I can take on the entire world.
And you can, Mako had reassured, resting his chin on her forehead. She'd pressed lips against his temple, a gentle Thank you. Mako knows that to Korra, taking away her bending is the same, maybe worse, than taking away her life. The equalists' revolution was only months ago, and Mako feels as if he's aged an eternity already.
He follows the figure, halting yards away as she approaches the cliff. She stands on the edge, gazing over the harbour. Mako approaches the waterbender carefully; he doesn't want to disturb her train of thought. Her blue eyes are in a faraway place, gazing over the bay. When he's by her, he drapes his coat gently over her shoulders. She's cold, judging by the goose pimples that dot her skin. Korra doesn't acknowledge his gesture, doesn't protest; she might claim that she never feels the cold, that she's used to it because she's from the South Pole, but Mako knows better. The cold might be numbing, but it's never pleasant.
"Hey," he greets quietly.
She only blinks. Her face is illuminated by the lights of the never-sleeping Republic City. They cast long shadows across the water, and he can hear the rumbling of Satomobiles in the metropolis across the sea.
Mako takes her hand in his, and she sighs out her mouth, relaxing her shoulders. "I couldn't sleep." She turns to him, taking his other hand.
But Mako knows it's more than that after seeing her gasping and sweaty. Some demons had come back to haunt her. Though he knows this, he nods and doesn't press. He respects her careful silence. He knows if there's anything he needs to know, she'll tell him. Rather than urging her, Mako points out the lights glowing in the sky, the familiar pro-bending arena where he'd felt so at home for so long.. "The Koala Otters and the Owl Beavers are playing tonight."
Korra nods, though he knows she's only half-listening. Mako remembers only months ago when they were on the same pro-bending team with Bolin, the Republic City Fire Ferrets. It was the place where he and his brother met this amazing girl, the Avatar for that matter, and where all their lives changed forever. Now, they've totally evolved-three totally different people, living drastically different lives.
"Do you miss pro-bending?" Korra suddenly asks, as if she were reading his mind.
Mako hesitates, thinking before he speaks, per usual. Be careful with your words, Mako, his mother once said, they can be as sharp as swords and sting like bees. He recalls each memory in his mind. He misses the rush of adrenaline on the bending stage, how he felt like a real hero when he single-handedly saved matches and made knockouts alongside his teammates. Before Korra, Mako saw pro-bending as his lifelong career: he planned that he'd make a ton of money, meet a ton of girls, drink a ton of shaojiu, go to a ton of parties. That was the dream. He'd then age like Toza, never leaving the business but not totally in it.
He wonders what would've happened if he kept to that life, if he never met this hot-headed, insane, incredible Avatar. She was the one who encouraged Mako to take a job as a detective, after all. She convinced him to enforce the law rather than break it. If given the opportunity, the choice between pro-bending or detective work, Mako would pick pro-bending in a heartbeat. Pro-bending is more fun, more pay; detective work is mundane, tiring, nerve-rattling. Mako then looks at the girl before him, holding his hands and staring up at him expectantly for an answer. He changes his mind; he thinks maybe he'd choose the latter, because it's something that makes Korra proud of him.
With all this, Mako has much to say. But he only shrugs in response. "It was fun, back then with you and Bo." Korra gazes up at him, her blue eyes searching. She knows this isn't the complete answer. "But I like my life right now." He looks at her with soft amber eyes, like small flames pulsing with warmth. "With you."
Korra giggles like she's five years old again. "You dork." She punches his shoulder, and though it is playful, his shoulder sores. She's always been full of energy, maybe a little too much.
"Hey!" he protests, sweeping her into arms. "It's only true."
Korra smirks, playing with the torn collar of his white tank top. "Yeah. You couldn't find your way out of a paper bag without me," she teases.
"S'why I'm need you, Avatar." He plants a warm kiss on the top of her head. He can't tell under the dim light, but he swears she's red. Mako knows she'd argue otherwise though
She pushes him away, and he protests. Korra then plops down on the edge, her feet dangling off the cliff. "Sit with me," she invites with a hand, patting the ground next to her.
Mako complies wordlessly. Korra lays back, taking him with her, and they're laying across the ground. They don't mind the earth around them. All is quiet and at peace, which is unusual for the pair. Korra stares up at the dark sky. They're not alone: the moon accompanies them, brilliant in the dark sky, casting long shadows across the island.
"Do you know the legend of Yue?" asks Korra.
Mako shakes his head. "No."
"You don't?" Korra scoffs in disbelief. "Everybody knows it!"
"Tell me about it."
Korra takes a deep breath to begin, staring up at the night. "Katara told me this story a long time ago, when I was in the compound with the White Lotus." Mako knows plenty about her childhood with the Order of the White Lotus, so she skips ahead. With a finger, she points up at the sky to the glowing orb. "During the Hundred Years' War, Katara, Aang, and Sokka visited the Northern Water Tribe for Aang to master waterbending." Korra sighs wistfully, and Mako thinks maybe she misses her first home. She continues, "Anyways, there was this really, really pretty princess named Yue, with white hair and pale skin. And Sokka fell mad in love with her." Maybe Mako can relate more to Sokka than he thought. She continues. "Then, the Fire Nation attacked the Northern Water Tribe in a siege to capture the Avatar. Admiral Zhao, this crazy nuthead-"
"Reminds me of Tarrlok," Mako comments. He remembers when the insane politician captured the Avatar and escaped. How could he not? It was how he realised he loved Korra, how he almost murdered a man to find her.
Korra suppresses an easy laugh. "Well, he was insane, totally bonkers, and killed the moon spirit."
"Killed the moon spirit?" You can't kill spirits, as far as Mako's aware.
"The moon spirit was a fish. Let me continue." And he doesn't question her, nodding for her to continue. "So, he wanted to be famous for killing the moon spirit, but the world was thrown into chaos. So Yue sacrificed herself and joined the ranks of the spirits by becoming the moon spirit. It crushed Sokka, but Yue saved the world by bringing balance back."
Mako blinks up at the moon. It's hard for him to believe a woman is living on the moon, that a woman is the moon, but the tale is not hard for him to believe. He's never been in touch with the spirits, anyway. "Poor Sokka. Losing somebody you love, that's really hard."
Korra takes Mako's hand in hers. "Yeah," she agrees. "The story was comforting, especially when I was in the compound in the Southern Water Tribe. The moon was like my friend." Korra hesitates before speaking again. "How stupid did that sound?"
"Don't worry, Korra. It sounds totally normal,," he assures.
She punches him on the shoulder playfully. "Oh, shut up."
Mako laughs, wrapping her up in a wide embrace. Korra tucks herself in as she always does, her head under the crook of his neck, her arms linked at the small of his back where it tickles. For a moment, they're just two normal kids with a lot of feelings bottled up, who need only one another. Korra smells of sweat and the sea, and she blinks up at him with tired blue eyes. His grey jacket rumples under his fingers.
He places a warm kiss on her cheek, and she closes heavy eyelids. "Sleep," he coaxes. Under an open sky with twinkling stars, under the lady of the moon, in Korra's arms, Mako feels as if he could stay like this forever.
In the morning, giggling Jinora finds them tangled and stirring. It takes Korra a string of threats and extra dish duty to buy her silence and keep the young airbender from running to Tenzin, while red-faced Mako wonders how he hasn't managed to get kicked off the island for good yet.
