"I killed a man today."

Mako's knees were shaking as he told her this, for she'd asked how his day had gone. Her eyes filled with concern, but he could not see them. He stared at the floor. She sat down at his feet.

"What happened?" she asked, placing a hand on his knee. It trembled slightly before calming under her touch, gentle yet strong. He breathed.

"He was a wanted man and a threat… he was endangering a fellow officer, I… it's what I was supposed to do."

Her face pressed against his leg.

He glanced down at his hands, at his fingers where the lightning from where the lightning had generated. He'd done the right thing, he had.

But if it was what he was supposed to do… why did he feel so horrible? Why could he not shut his mind off, why did he keep having to think of him, of the man who had killed his parents with fire?

Why could he not stop thinking of the look on Bolin's face when he'd told him that their parents had been killed by a firebender?

Why could he not stop thinking about the fear he'd had that night and for weeks, months, after, constant and real, of his own bending?

Mako closed his eyes. Korra's voice was hesitant and quiet, because she could alone see his heart. She'd seen the invisible scars, heard the nightmares of that night that haunted him, that night from so long ago. She knew what he was thinking, so she was quiet.

"I'm sorry."

-

-

"Looks pretty bad, doesn't it?" she said, laughing.

Korra held her hand out towards Mako. It was swelling, two of its fingers were angled in ways that they most certainly shouldn't be angled, and there was a light tint of a bruise coming in. It was very much broken.

"Korra," Mako said with a scowl as he leaned to take a closer look, "What were you thinking?"

She hadn't been, really. She'd just been mad that the perp had gotten away from her, and she never let that happen. Korra wasn't really mad at the crook; she was mad at herself.

"At least I gave him a good beating before he snuck away from me," she said. "He'll think twice next time he wants to mess with me!"

Mako rested her hand on his leg as he began to wrap it up with a makeshift splint. It was a temporary fix until they could get her to a healer, for it was too painful for her to heal herself.

"Ow," she complained as he adjusted her hand in his own, running the bandage up her wrist. "That hurts!"

"You're the one who punched a wall!"

She pouted. "It still hurts."

Mako rolled his eyes but still held her broken hand tenderly in his own. That pout always got to him. Always. So his lips fell on each of her knuckles, just the brush of a kiss, one by one by one.

"I'm sorry."

-

-

Korra's chest heaved, a drip of sweat rolling down her. Mako smirked at her, convinced that he'd won. But the fire was still there, burning under her skin, lighting her eyes with its desire, hot and ready.

She shoved him back against the wall, mouth on his, her tongue lining his bottom lip before she bit it, hard. She felt his smile beneath the kiss, his silent laughter.

Her hands reached for his shirt, tugging and yanking it impatiently over his head.

Mako took the opportunity and twisted, forcing her against the wall now, his lips on her jawline, her neck, her collar bone, then back to her lips. His hand traveled down, lingering, teasing. Her hands, however, reached up behind him, nails raking down his back with anticipation and greed as he pressed his tongue against hers.

A groaning cry fell from his mouth into Korra's.

Eyes wide, she pulled away. She'd gotten too excited.

Almost instantly, she looked behind him, fingers now gently tracing over the scratched, reddened paths that she'd created with her fingernails.

"I'm sorry!" she said.

He grinned.

"Don't be."