A/N: Post-Out of the Past. Korra was moved to her old room in Air Temple Island while the Krew decides what to do.

Protective Mako has become one of my favourite characters. I don't agree with his road in love, but he cares, and that's more than enough.

Unedited cut. Rough. Most likely awful.

The darkness glides across the room from the hexagonal window to the bed, silence and sorrow entering with it as the faint remains of daylight fade. Her eyes are closed, her chest rising and falling with some irregular difficulty, her hands clasped tightly in his, the chair Tenzin brought in forgotten, the edge of the cot the current residence for the worry and pain he can't see to tear away. But at least she is safe. Glancing at her, he senses the unnatural stillness rolling from her like waves on the dusky shore.

He doesn't what he should be doing beyond stroking her hair gently and being here, beside her, when she needs him. The cuts on her face stand out from the dark brown tone of her skin: He is driving away all attempts to bandage her, because he knows she would rather heal herself when she awakens.

Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. A steady rhythm to keep himself steady as well. She can heal herself. No matter what they throw at her, she will always be able to heal herself.

Except when she won't.

He remembers her weight in his arms as he lifted her from Naga and carried her to the waiting sky bison. Her cheeks, cold to the touch. Her limbs, too weak for her to move them. Her body, shielded by his against the soft rain that came, as though the spirits, too, were weeping.

She couldn't heal herself then.

When he found out she was the Avatar, he played it almost as a joke, just an extra word slapped on her name and a vague ability to bend the four elements. To him, that's all it was, and as far he was concerned, she might as well have been only a waterbender.

Even when the Equalists attacked the Pro-bending Arena. Okay, so there were two of her. There was the girl, the girl he kind of liked but couldn't have; the girl who was sometimes awkward, sometimes annoying, sometimes a klutz; the girl with pride, strength, and a fiery streak that made him admire him. Then there was the Avatar, master of the elements, guardian of the world's people, ultimate saviour of the city in the war against Amon. Two distinct people.

It took her nearly dying by Tarrlok's hand to meld both in his life.

The invincible Avatar? The vulnerable girl? One and the same, and more the latter than the former.

Night steals over them, a mourning wind blowing through the window. Part of him says he should close it. The other part of him refuses to leave her even for a second.

She's trying. He knows that. She's trying to become the Avatar that Aang was, powerful, wise . . . invincible. But not even Aang was invincible.

She's only human.

And she has to understand that.

In the meantime, he will protect her as he couldn't protect his parents, no matter the cost.

The scarf is dull red around her neck.