BONUS CHAPTER
If Mako lost his bending…
Most of the time he wasn't any different than he'd been before.
He was still surly and perpetually unimpressed. He still bought Bolin the occasional dumpling on the way home from work. He still made passive aggressive comments to Korra whenever the opportunity presented itself.
But then there were moments… Moments when Korra and Bolin and Asami were laughing around the newly renovated living room when Korra would spot him out of the corner of her eye. He'd be preparing their dinner for the evening, chopping vegetables and whatnot, and then he'd snap his fingers.
The shock on his face was always fresh and raw. He'd stare at the unlit coals on the stove like he'd swallowed a large gulp of cactus juice. The movements of his face were quick and powerful; so much so that Korra had to wonder if she'd seen his face move at all. First there was shock, then frustration, and then, finally, an unbearable sadness like some phantom pain of a wound that was no longer there but still left him with a chasm.
Just as quick as it was there it was gone. He would fish a box of matches out of the cabinet and no one would be the wiser.
This didn't, of course, include the harried times. The times when Mako felt helpless to defend his brother and his friends. He was still incredibly strong—he would always be a good fighter. But it wasn't the same. All of them would be mid brawl and he'd just… Forget. And then he'd get tackled because just for a moment he let his own surprise get the better of him.
He couldn't protect Bolin the way he used to. Perhaps it was better that way, of course, but he couldn't get used to it. He was the protector. He made sure, now more than ever, that Bo knew Mako would do anything for him.
Bolin already knew that. Mako had proved it twenty times over.
Asami never let him feel miserable about himself. Not that he ever truly showed it except in those short little moments. She taught him a lot and somehow in the midst of everything, something between them healed.
It was Korra Mako ended up being most afraid of. That she'd think less of him. That she'd pity him. Mako hated pity. He would never stand for it.
But she didn't. She was inexplicably Korra. She didn't treat him any differently. She still battered him in training, gave him lame nicknames, and she always looked to him as a friend and ally.
He feared he would always have that nostalgia, that wound, but he didn't fear the future one bit.