I'm sorry. That's all I can really muster as of now. This is YEARS late, and this chapter has been sitting, untouched on my laptop. And if I'm being honest, I had no intention to ever touch this story again. But years later, I am finding inspiration comes at the weirdest most inopportune moments. I'm twenty years old now, three years out of high school, working a full time job while going to school. I was fourteen when I started writing this story, with lots of free time, and a strong passion of writing. Nowadays, my creativity lies in other endeavors. It is worth mentioning I am no longer actively involved in this fandom, and I have my reasons. Though my life has vastly changed, I am still proud of this story. With over 30k views and 300+ reviews, I am forever thankful for all the support and love and commitment my readers have shown me. So this is for you. I will make no promises to finish this story (and I have considered putting it up for adoption), since my passion for Korra has long since diminished, but in the very least, y'all deserve the promised chapter.

So without further ado, enjoy.

Korra struggles to keep her eyes on Mako's back as they thread through the crowd. Of several times she lost sight of him, but his red scarf stood as a useful tool of keeping track of him. She pushes and shoves through with no regard to the gasps, curses and protests from the people she elbows aside. When they find a spot within the crowd that has a decent view of the stage, they stand shoulder to shoulder, extending nothing but pardoned breaths of uncertainty.

The lights above flicker and dim above, and a blinding spotlight beams down on the stage. Korra's heart races, her breath uneven and shallow. She finds herself huddling closer to Mako. The crowd erupts in deafening cheers and applause as poised men are risen up from the stage―Korra recognizes Amon immediately. His mask stands palpable to the men behind him dressed in Equalist garb. People could almost deem him untouchable with the confidence he demonstrates with broad, straight shoulders, hands clasped behind his back. His uniform is impeccable, not one crease, not one wrinkle, not one fault.

An ice cold fear extends through Korra, seizing what is left of her resolution. She can see his eyes through the thin slits of his mask. Korra, too focused on Amon, fails to see the large machines lined behind Amon and his men. Mako assesses the long metal arms equipped with claws, small gun barrels, and the glass domes that conceal the pilots.

The motif of the machines almost seems recognizable to Mako.

Amon brings one of his arms from behind his back, a microphone clutched in his long black gloved fingers, and brings the microphone to the mouth slit in his mask. The audience goes silent. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, my name is Amon." His bravado voice booms through the room. "Long ago when I was but a boy, my family was extorted and killed by a fire bender, and that day, I Iost my face." Korra flinched at the aggressiveness in his words. "Ever since then, I've been on a mission to rid the world of bending. Avatar Korra," Korra's eyes widen and she yanks the knitted scarf around her neck over her mouth. "if she were here, would tell you that bending brings balance to the world. But she is wrong. The Avatar is a tool used for oppression, and her era must end." Her knees feel weak, and the nauseating feeling curling inside of her makes her shake. "And Avatar Korra is here, in Republic City." Gasping Korra reels back―right into Mako's chest. He catches her shoulder. "And if you find her, and present her to me, your reward will be," Amon pauses, his black eyes sweeping over the crowd. "plentiful."

Mako swallows the bile in his throat, knowing full well this will be a battle neither him and Korra have a chance of winning. He watches Korra shrink back, her mouth tucked under the scarf, her knuckles white as they curl into fists at her side. He tugs on her shoulder, meaning to steer both Korra and himself out of the audience, but she jerks away―cerulean eyes intent on Amon.

"Now, I bet you're wondering of the power I possess. Well, you're all about to witness it firsthand." Korra starts forward through the crowd, giving no second guessing as a long line of tied and gagged civilians are dragged onto the stage by Equalists―one of the hostages being Tao Ran.

Mako lunges forward and grabs Korra by her bicep, she struggles to get out of his tightening grip. "There's nothing we can do." He whispers as he yanks her back.

"That's my uncle up there." She rasps. Mako's jaw goes slack. "I have to do something."

Mako nods, his eyes adverting up to the hostages. "Just wait. We can't just run up onto the stage." He explains evenly, releasing Korra's arm. "We have to go about this strategically."

She glares up at Mako. "What's the plan then ,Team Captain?" Korra growls.

Mako scans the warehouse, turning on his heels, searching for an innovative solution.

"Mako, hurry up!" Korra exclaims in a hiss, watching with hopelessness as Amon continues his speech, pacing the stage. Her uncle's blue eyes are wide, darting back and forth with vigor.

"Meet Lightning Bolt Zolt. You may recall him as the head of the Triple Threat Triad." Mako's head snaps back to the stage, his molten eyes broaden with shock as a childhood memory stumbles forward towards Amon. He still looks the same―A bright colored tailor suit, gold chains around his neck, expensive gold rings on his fingers. Mako can still feel the faint white scars on his cheeks left by those rings.

"Zolt has extorted, harmed, and murdered innocent civilians. His institutionin the city has caused much conflict, and I believe it has to stop." Amon boasts as the Equalists rips the cloth gag from Zolt's mouth and cut the ties that bind his wrists. Lightning Bolt Zolt still reeks with a sinister zeal, a wicked smile plastered on his face. As always, Zolt never shows any kind of fear.

Amon turns to Zolt. "In the conflict of interests, I'll let you fight to keep your bending."

Zolt's smile widens, and both Korra and Mako watch, stunned. Zolt takes stance, a position Mako is familiar with. His feet are parted far apart, one arm extended out, one arm bent across his chest. His back is straight, two fingers aimed at Amon. "You're going to regret that, pal!" Zolt shouts boisterously, and then Zolt lunges, a shock of white lightning emanating from his finger tips.

Korra is blinded by the white hot flash and turns her head away, using her arm to shield her eyes. When she looks back to the stage, Zolt is on his knees, lightning still glowing hot and wild from his fingers. Amon holds the back of Zolt's neck, his other hand holding Lightning Bolt Zolt's wrist to the ceiling. Amon moves his hand from his neck to his hostage's forehead and the lightning adverts and shrinks, flickering to an uneven flow of orange flames, then to nothing but a small dancing fire that fizzles out to nothing but a spark on his fingertips.

The crowd gasps as Amon releases Zolt and he falls forward to the stage. Korra inhales a sharp breath of repulsion, the urge to vomit strengthening. Amon turns away from Zolt's jolting body, and Korra watches as the Triple Threat leader stumbles ungracefully to his feet―something sharp and silver clutched in his hands. He springs forward with a lethargic cry, but he doesn't get very far. Something small and fast whizzes past the stage, shot from one of the large machines lined behind Amon. Zolt jerks back, the blade still erect in his hands. A splash of red sprays from the left side of his chest and he falls forward, unmoving.

Gasps and startled cries scatter from the audience, but they remain unsympathetic. Korra's hand flies to her mouth, her heart loud in her ringing ears. "Mako," She chokes, her eyes burning red. She looks to Tao Ran, who is now struggling in his binds. His tan face is soaked in sweat, his blue eyes erect and panicked as he twists and yanks on the ropes immobilizing him.

Mako's eyes rip away from Zolt's body and as soon as his gaze find the steam pump on the far wall of the warehouse, an idea clicks in his head. "Over there," He points and Korra follows his finger to the steam barrels. "Those machines are powered by water and steam. If you can find some way to break it, you can create some cover. It will give me enough time to grab your uncle and free the other benders." He whispers.

"And what about Zolt?" She replies shakily.

He shakes his head. "There is nothing we can do about him now." Korra curtly nods and turns, moving to shuffle her way out of the crowd, but Mako grabs her hand. She looks back at him, holding in her tears. "Listen, I parked my bike just up the street in an alley between a smoke parlor and a noodle shop. You meet me there, understand?"

"I understand."

"Good." He releases her hand.

"Good luck Mako. Be careful." Korra turns and quickly shoves through the crowd.

"You too." He says after she's gone. He waits hesitantly, his hands clammy and hot with a spark of heat on the ends of his fingertips.

Korra stumbles into a long fluorescent lit corridor, lined with groaning metal barrels which she guesses are the steam machines Mako had told her about. She jogs down the hall, her shoes clomping heavily against the concrete floor. She skids to a stop at the last boiler and paying no mind to the warning sign, she wraps her hand around the metal knob to release the steam from the machine.

She doesn't feel it at first. The pain starts minuscule―the slightest sting. Then a wave of shock spreads through the flat of her hand. A second later pain bursts through the fine skin of her palm and fingers, spreading like flower petals. She rips her hand away from the knob and bites down hard on her bottom lip to muffle her indignant scream. Korra stomps her foot repeatedly, clutching the wrist of her burnt hand―watching as the skin on her fingers and palm welt and swell, blood oozing from the open skin.

Ripping the scarf from her neck with a grunt, Korra wraps her injured hand in the fabric, hissing through her teeth as the fibers of the scarf dig into the forming blisters. Korra, out of ideas, kicks the knob once, twice, a third time until it comes loose and steam hisses from the spout and fills the hallway.

"Hey!" A deep voice bellows from behind her. Korra whips around, placing an innocent smile on her lips. Her eyes still water from the sharp pain in her hand. She recognizes the man as the bouncer from outside.

"Hey brother. Uh," She purses her lips, blinking her large round eyes. "can I help you with something?"

The bouncer narrows his dark eyes at Korra. "What are you doing back here?" He demands.

Korra shrugs. "Looking for the bathroom?" is her best excuse. The man doesn't buy it, and he brings a hand out from behind his back, revealing a large silver wrench. Korra smirks, accepting the challenge.

His first attack is sloppy and poorly executed and she dodges it easily. Korra, dodging each and every one of his blows, develops a strategy. She ducks between the man's legs and takes stance next to a boiler. The man swings around to Korra and with a battle cry, hurls the wrench down at her who steps out and down, the wrench finding home on the boiler that breaks open upon impact. The hall fills with hot steam, and Korra is now fighting blindly.

She keeps on her toes, listening through the cloud of humidity for any movement. And when she sees the silver glint swinging toward her face, she crouches and lunges while wrenching the scarf from her hand. She easily catches the man's wrist in the scarf, and she kicks him hard in the chest. The man stumbles back, and Korra cleaves the weapon from his hands before sliding it out of reach. From there, it's an easy task to incapacitate the man. Rewrapping her hand with the scarf, she peers down at the unconscious man with satisfaction.

Korra then raises her hands and forces them forward, the steam following her movement in a powerful gesture. She hears the explosion from the other side of the wall and sighs in relief.

It's all up to Mako now. She thinks as she sprints down the hallway still flittering with steam.

Korra comes to the end of the corridor that branch into two separate hallways. She relies on her instincts as she barges down the left hallway. What she finds down the hall is another corridor. Korra groans abrasively.

This place is a maze…

As she turns the corner, a man sprinting away from her stops her dead in her tracks. She recognizes his fine, tailored clothing, his polished black hair, leather oxfords clapping against the concrete floors as he bounds away from Korra. Shock rips through her and his name slips from her lips.

"Hiroshi."

Korra gasps as Hiroshi whips around, his eyes scanning the hall. Korra throws herself around the corridor and out of sight, pressing her back to the wall.

Her hand covers her mouth and she questions herself. That couldn't have been Hiroshi Sato. That couldn't have been Asami's father.

Why would he be here? He's a good man. She thinks squinting her eyes close and tilting her head back.

"Who's there?!" Hiroshi demands his footsteps approaching close around the bend of the hallway. Korra flees before he can see her. She staggers back into the split hallway. This time, she chooses the right hall.

When a brightly lit exit sign above a heavy metal door is spot at the end of the hallway, Korra huffs in relief. She barrels into the door and it swings open. The chill of the night breeze numbs her flushed cheeks, tossing tufts of hair that had escaped her hat about her face. Her breathing is labored and she sucks air back into her burning lungs while looking about her surroundings. A small lantern burns overhead on the small balcony she stands on. Ahead, she can see the faintest of house lights that bend and curve over a cobble paved hill lit dimly in white street lights. And a few feet from the door is a metal staircase.

She skips down them hastily, her head whipping around as she hears the door slam open behind her. Three Equalist tumble through the thresh hold. It doesn't take long for them to find her―they shout after her. She has very little reaction time as one of the Equalists pull khali sticks from a harness strapped to their back. Korra gasps as the Equalist moves to shove the rods down on the stair case.

Korra vaults over the side of the railing, feeling weightless as she fell. Tingles of electricity tickles her fingertips. She lands ungracefully on the balls of her feet. A shock of discomfort razors up her leg and as she tucks and rolls to break her fall, Korra curses loudly when she stands to run. She collapses to her hands and knees the pain in her ankle billowing and unfurling. No longer is the burn of her hand seem significant.

She can hear the Equalists coming from behind her and Korra stands again, the screaming ache knocking her back down again. She sits on her butt, scrambling back from the approaching Equalists. Only then does she realize she lost her hat.

Korra moves to defend herself, and as she raises her hand, a bolt of electricity lights up the street. The Equalists scream, their bodies jerking and contracting in the hot white light. One by one they fall to the ground, and as Korra turns her head to seek out her defender, the light shrivels out and Korra is wrenched from the street and into hard arms. She grunts as Mako takes hold of her around the waist, allowing most of her weight off her ankle. Everything is moving past her fast―buildings, blurring streetlamps―the slap of their hard soled shoes clapping on the pavement. Her arm hooked around his neck, her steps out of tandem with his, irritating her ankle further. Biting down on her tongue to silence her pitiful whimpers, she tries to keep up with her makeshift crutch.

"For one of the most powerful beings on earth," Mako says panting. "you sure know how to find yourself in the most inconvenient situations. I swear you're worse than Bolin."

"My uncle," Korra gasps, looking over her shoulder. "is he alright?"

"He's good." Mako rasps, his breath fragranced with smoke. "I got all the benders out before Amon could hurt anyone else."

Korra turns her head and catches the corners of Mako's focused eyes. "And Amon?"

"Gone." He pants, a bead of sweat rolling down his clenched temple. Korra observes his tensed features and his rugged breath. He's exhausted and she mentally kicks herself for being such a burden. If she didn't roll her ankle, Mako wouldn't have to exert his energy to carry her to safety. "He slipped out before I got the chance to even attempt to fight the bastard."

A great disappointment slams down on Korra, and tears nip at her eyes. Once again, Amon manages to slip through her fingers. Now that his big rally was sabotaged, Amon would definitely not let it go so easily. But how could things get any worse?

Mako halts his running, turning with Korra leaning against him. He squints down the road, through the scarcely lit streets and finds nothing. "I think we're safe."Korra cradles her arm to her chest, hissing as the damaged skin of her palm rubs against the fibers of the scarf wrapped loosely around her hand. "What did you do to your hand?" He asks glaring down at her.

His arms felt uncomfortable around her, and she shifts to her toes while locking her clouded eyes with his. "No one warned me that steam machines are hot. Thanks for that." She grumbles.

Mako scoffs, shaking his head. "Wait, it's my fault? I thought it was pretty obvious the steam machines would be hot."

Internally wishing she could walk on her own, Korra rolls her blue eyes. "Not obvious enough, obviously."

Mako says nothing as he continues walking up the street. The way he carries her with him with ease up the hill makes her feel so small. She doesn't seem heavy to him in the slightest. Moments later, Mako turns into a narrow dark alley where he parked his bike. He sets Korra down on the bike before climbing on in front of her. He offers her his helmet which she accepts. Recalling the last time she rode with him on his satocylce, Korra locks her arms around his waist, pressing her helmeted head to his back.

"I'll take us back to my apartment so we can take care of your injuries." Korra mutters a weak approval and the bike roars to life. The engine, muffled by her helmet, is like a loud purr as he speeds the bike out into the streets.

Against her greatest protests, Korra's ankle prevents her from walking to Mako's apartment without assistance. Instead, she uses Mako as a support. His arm is secure around her waist and her arm is draped transversely over his shoulder. She limps, Mako holding most of her weight. However, as they stumble up the stairs of the pro bending arena, Mako has a harder time trudging up the steps than Korra.

"This would be a lot easier if you just let me carry you." He grunts, pulling Korra up as she falls forward. He comes to the conclusion that she got heavier in the past ten minutes.

Korra hops up onto the next step, squeezing Mako's shoulder uncomfortably tight. "Not a chance, fire puff." She huffs, looking up with dread at the remaining six steps. "I prefer my feet on the ground, thank you very much."

A frustrated groan vibrates from Mako's throat as Korra slogs forward and up another step, then another, and another until they reach the last step. Her breathing is labored, and from her squinted shut eyes, her injured foot suspended off the concrete steps, and her teeth gnawing down on her bottom lip, it isn't difficult to convey Korra's pain.

Relentless. Mako classifies as she lurches up to the last step.

When they finally get inside and reach the stairwell that leads up to the attic, Korra growls. Her ankle is losing feeling, and she feels tired. When Mako offers to carry her, she nods silently. Mako turns around and offers his back. She uses her good leg to bound up and she ribbons her arms around his neck, his hot hands catching her underneath her thighs.

Against the odds of his own exhaustion, he manages to get both himself and Korra up to the apartment without causing anymore injuries. He kicks open the door. The air of the apartment is cold and thin. Darkness descends across the loft, save for the beams of gray light provided by the moon.

Mako uses his elbow to hit the light switch and the apartment clicks to life. "Bo!" Mako calls, Korra still clinging to his back. "You home?" After receiving no answer, Mako shrugs, assuming his little brother went out to fetch something to eat. The night is still young. He's relieved he has the apartment to himself and Korra.

He places her down on the tattered orange sofa and insists she gets comfortable. Korra nods, remaining stiff as she sheds her jacket and runs her fingers back through her tangled hair. Mako dismisses himself to go gather supplies and says, "Stay put. I'll be right back."

"No worries," Korra utters, her tone saturated in sarcasm. "I don't think I'm fit to wander off anywhere right now."

"I never know with you." He replies before stalking away.

She hears clattering and shuffling in the kitchen, and after a few minutes of a running faucet and a clash of a pan falling to the floor, Mako returns with a large bowl of water, a wash cloth swathed over his shoulder, and a roll of gauze. He takes a seat on the table, facing Korra and positions the water bowl on Korra's lap. "For your hand," He explains gesturing to the bowl. "to heal your burn."

Korra nods with acknowledgement and begins to slowly unravel the scarf that is sticky with both sweat and puss. As the scarf falls away, Korra hisses and cringes at the sight. The skin is swollen and an angry red, bubbles of loose skin that leak blood forming at the base of her fingers. She submerges her hand in the cold water, biting down on her tongue. Seconds later, the pain is gone and the water is warm and glowing. She can feel her skin mending, the blisters shrinking, the burn lifting away. She turns her hand over in the water, the skin pink, healthy and new.

"That will never not be incredible to watch." Mako says in awe, grinning at Korra's healed hand.

Korra nods in agreement and leans forward and places the bowl on the table. "Let me see your ankle." Mako motions his hand to her leg and she lifts it precariously before Mako catches her boot in his hands. With the uttermost care, Mako pushes up her jeans and tactically unties the shoelaces until the boot is loose enough to slip off her swollen foot. He edges the black sock off, apologizing when he his fingers press too hard to her foot and she hisses. Once the sock is off, he observes her injury.

He immediately guesses some type of dislocation due to the bruising and severe swelling. He can make out the crookedness of the bone under her skin as he pokes and prods―trying his best to ignore Korra's pained noises. After Mako places her foot on his leg, he purses his lips, catching Korra's bloodshot eyes.

"So what's the damage?" Korra croaks. "Will I walk again?" She laughs weakly.

Mako on the other hand is a little less than amused. He grabs the towel from over his shoulder, wads it up, and tosses it to her. "It's dislocated." He says blatantly.

Korra knits her brows, holding the towel in her fist. "I thought it was just a sprain."

"I'm no doctor, but your bone alignment looks cooked." He explains before taking her ankle back into his hand. "You might want to bite down on that." His eyes motion to the wash cloth he gave her.

Korra's eyes widen. She knows well of what comes next. "Wait, have you done this before?" She asks hastily, fidgeting as Mako places his palm at the bottom of her foot.

He shrugs. "Once when Bolin fell off his skateboard a few years ago. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing." He exerts pressure, pressing lightly to the bottom of her foot. Korra gasps at the sling of pain that jars her up her leg. She attempts jerking her foot away, but Mako holds it in place. "Bite down on the rag, Korra." He instructs and as soon as her teeth clamp down on the cloth, Mako pushes forcefully on her foot, snapping the bone back into place. Korra cries though her teeth, her fingernails creating fine crescents in the material of the couch. A tear escapes the confines of her tightly closed eyes and slithers down her red blotched cheeks.

"Are you alright?" Mako asks moving his hand from the palm on her foot to her swollen red ankle.

Korra bites her tongue and nods wordlessly, her eyes still closed.

Mako nods. "See, that wasn't so bad." Mako jests and Korra opens her eyes, her lips straight.

"Define not so bad." She mutters with a sigh.

"Well, the injury could have been a lot worse than it was." The corners of Mako's lips quirk up. "But the good news is, you'll walk again."

Korra couldn't help but laugh. "That is good news." Korra says as she watches Mako shift his hands so he is holding either side of her ankle between the palms of his hand. A consoling heat blossomed from the ache that tore through her foot from her leg, to her toes. His long fingers rub the bone in circles, a hot sensation seeping deep and soothing the shrill pain.

Korra remembers a lot of select things from her firebending training as a child. Fire is about control, of not only oneself, but of the element itself. She recalls a time of carelessness that resulted in burning one of her instructors. From then, Korra swore she would never abuse fire again.

"Fire can destroy, and fire can create." Her instructor once said. "It can be beautiful but it can be used for unsightly purposes."

Korra never heard that fire could heal.

"What are you-" Korra began breathlessly.

"Heat therapy. It works wonders." Mako boasts smugly, still pulsing heat into Korra's ankle bone.

"I never knew firbenders could do that." She admits quietly.

"There are a lot of things you don't know about firebenders." Is his response. Korra's cheeks burn red. "But don't get too excited. It's only a temporary relief. It might still be a few days until you can walk around without looking like you have two left feet. You may want to consider healing it our self with your…waterbending"

Korra nods.

"I'm curious." Asks Mako, and Korra prepares for the worst. "What did you think you would have accomplished going all alone to that rally?"

Korra feels small under his gaze―almost like a child being reprimanded. She doesn't answer.

"What you did tonight," Mako trails off, lowering his shaking head with a heavy sigh. When he lifts his eyes back to her, there is something there that wasn't there before―praise. "it was definitely the most idiotic thing you could have ever done."

"I didn't ask for your opinion." Korra grumbles.

Mako continues to rub her ankle, the heat growing, blooming. "But what you did was brave." Korra's cheeks might as well have caught fire.

"I don't feel very brave." She says under her breath, her eyes on her lap. Hiroshi lingers in her head, hastening her heart. She still felt the shock as she put the pieces together. It was not difficult to see as to why Hiroshi was involved with the Equalists. Hiroshi is an inventor, and entrepreneur.

He manufactured those machines. Korra horrifyingly concludes. How could she tell Mako? How would he take it?

"Why do you say that?"

She shrugs in response.

"Hey," Mako says, soft like a thread of satin ribbon. "look at me." Slowly, Korra catches his amber eyes of fervent fire. "Nothing is going to happen to you. As long as you are smart and stay careful, Amon can't touch you. You have no reason to be afraid."

I wish I could believe you. Korra simply nods. "So what do I do now?"

"What you've been doing― working on the task force."

"About that," Korra says hesitantly as Mako eyes her questionably. "Tenzin resigned me from the task force, Mako." Korra explains leaning back into the couch cushions and folding her arms across her chest

Mako is taken back yet still feels that twinge of relief. "Maybe it's for the best."

She feels disappointment in his reaction. In the least, she expected some kind of discrepancy from him. Though, he does not seem fazed. Too tired to argue, Korra simply nods. "That's what everyone's been telling me." She replies monotonously.

"Maybe they tell you that because they don't want to see you get hurt. Maybe because they care about you?" Mako irritably suggests. He tries his hardest to keep his emotions from further exerting his gentle touch.

"Well they could care to care a little less." Her tone is sour, but riddled with exhaustion.

Mako expels a lungful of air. "If only you knew how difficult it is to not care about you."

Korra lowers her eyes to her stomach and shrugs her shoulder. "I think I have a pretty good idea."

A dull pain settles between Mako's temples, his pent up frustrations with Korra stiffening his fingers as he mistakenly adds pressure to her ankle. Korra howls and pulls her leg from his lap with a scowl. "Sorry." He says sheepishly but with remorse.

"It's fine." Korra shrugs once more, lowering her foot to the ground, careful not to exert any pressure to it.

Rising to his feet, Mako wordlessly collects the bowl of water, the wash cloth that's damp with saliva and tosses the roll of gauze to Korra who catches it between her hands. "Wrap your ankle. I'll be right back." Korra watches as he disappears into the kitchen. After he is out of sight, Korra props her ankle up on the table. She marvels at the how the inflammation has diminished to nothing but a tolerable swell. Heat therapy. It works wonders. Heat rushed to her cheeks and Mako stalks back into the room and she hurriedly lowers her head to hide her flushed face. She efficiently and quickly twines the gauze tightly around her heel and ankle.

Mako sits down next to Korra on the sofa and looks at Korra, her hair obscuring her face. "How's your head?" He asks suddenly, watching Korra fasten the gauze and fit her foot carefully back into her leather boot. She quickly ties the laces and hunches her shoulder. She rests her elbows on her knees with a heavy drawn out sigh. "Last I saw you, you were being rolled away on a gurney. The healers said you had a concussion." He continues, concerned.

"It's nothing but a headache now." She mutters, almost incoherently. "I never got the chance to thank you about yesterday." She says with gratitude while turning her head to look to Mako. She looks at his lips.

"No need to thank me." He gingerly says. "I wasn't going to let anything happen to you."

Korra chews in her lip, feeling the muscles in her cheek tighten as she forces away a smile. "And Susi?" Korra questions bashfully. "She would be dead if it weren't for you."

"It wasn't just me." Is his reply.

"Well, regardless, thank you."

"Anytime." He nods, and they go silent, looking away from one another.

"And tonight, I couldn't have freed my uncle without you." Nervously, she scratches at the back of her hand. "I- I mean we appreciate it, and I'm also sorry for dragging you into my life. I know being associated with me has brought, uh, problems to your life," Korra inhales and exhales. "and I wish things were different. I wish I-" Mako interrupts her babbling, and Korra inwardly curses her prattling. The city is falling into peril and her biggest worry is that she talks too much.

"I chose to be there, tonight, and I'm glad I made that decision."

A rush of euphoria surges through her, creating tingles in her stomach that flitter and flutter through her. Against her best efforts, Korra cannot hide the smile that spreads her lips. "I'm glad too."

When Korra finally finds the courage to look at Mako again, she is stunned to see he is already staring at her with eyes the color of ember. His lips part slightly, one of his hands finding Korra's; his fingers threading between hers. Her heart catapults into her throat, choking off her breath with a raspy squeak. Korra stiffens as Mako leans forward―his warmth folding over, and wrapping around Korra like a comfort not even her compound back in the South Pole could provide. His breath , uneven and hot, faintly smells of mint chewing gum. His eyes slip shut and he moves in, closer. Feather soft strands of black hair brush her forehead. A soft touch cups her cheek, the pad of Mako's thumb rubbing over the thin white scar along her cheekbone.

He's going to kiss me…Mako is going to kiss me. She can barely hear her thoughts over the thunder drum that is her heart. But he's dating Asami. Asami!

Hiroshi Sato. She knows she has to tell him. Mako has the right to know. That is one secret she could not keep, no matter how it will hurt Mako. After everything he has done for Korra, she knows he deserves nothing but honesty from her. How he would take the news of his sponsor, and girl friend's father affiliation with the Equalists is a whole other mystery. She hopes he will not hate her as much as she already hates herself.

"I saw Hiroshi Sato at the rally." She hoarsely blurts

Mako jerks back, withdrawing his hand from Korra's, his eyes wide and hips parted. "What did you just say?"

Korra takes a breath. "I saw Hiroshi tonight," She whispers, secretly hoping he wouldn't hear her. "at the rally."

Korra's words stun him. "Korra," He grunts shaking his head. "That isn't possible."

Korra sighs, biting down on the inside of her cheek. "It's not? Because he was there, and I think he manufactured those weapons." Mako recoiled from the sofa and stood to his feet, distress pulling at his emotions.

"What?" Mako bowed his head, narrowed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose; one of his hands perch on his hip. "Hiroshi is a good man. He would never build weapons―let alone weapons for Amon."

Korra rises from the couch and walks to Mako, careful to keep her distance. His scowl and creased forehead screams denial, but Korra knows that would be a given. Hiroshi and Mako developed a bond, and now Korra is about to devastate their relationship. He turns his back to her. Korra frowns. "I'm sorry, Mako. I don't want to believe it either, but I know what I saw." Korra's folds her arms across her chest, her fingernails digging into her arms. "It would make sense. I read somewhere that Hiroshi's wife was killed by a firebender, right? That would give him every motive in the world to hater benders, and possibly even build weapons-"

"Korra, shut up." Mako growls gutturally.

"You know I'm right. Hiroshi isn't the saint you make him out to be."

He whips around so fast, it dizzies Korra. "Just shut up, Korra!." He shouts, and Korra refrains from flinching."You don't know a thing about Hiroshi! Everything Amon stands for, Hiroshi stands against!"He looks disgusted with her. She feels disgusted with herself.

"I know what I saw." She replies stiffly.

"He must have been there for another reason then." He replies, quieter.

Korra shakes her head. "I don't think so."

Mako turns from Korra once more, dragging his hand down his face. His thoughts jumble in his head, defiance darkening his eyes. "You're lying." He says impassively, and anger burns away Korra's remorse. "Either you're lying, or," Mako trails off, and is silent for several moments. "or you're just desperate."

"What makes you think I'm desperate?" Korra questions stepping forward.

"This is about Asami," He turns on his heel, his eyes ablaze. "isn't it?"

Korra barks out an outraged laugh. "You honestly think this about your relationship?" Her dark smile leisurely contorts into a grimace. "I could honestly care less about you and Asami. This is about Hiroshi's involvement with Amon. This is about Hiroshi building weapons that can kill people." Korra doesn't realize she was stomping up to Mako until she was on the tip of her toes, her chest just inches from his. Mako is unfazed, his expression blank, but his eyes burning with stumbles slightly as Korra's finger jabs him solidly in the chest."This is much bigger than your stupid relationship." She seethes venomously.

"Are you sure about that?" He replies in a low taunting tone.

Korra falls to the flat of her feet. "Spirits, you got his wealth shoved so far up your ass, you don't even want to consider the possibility."

"This isn't about his money!"

"Are you sure about that,?" Korra revels in Mako's face as she shoves his own words back into his face. His expression turns darker, a look of unfiltered disgust. "I get it, Mako. You've got it all figured out," Korra swallows, fighting the thick bubble of dread growing in her gut. "Hiroshi has always been there for you, for the Fire Ferrets. His money has kept you afloat, and his daughter has kept you satisfied. So spirits forbid something messes that up for you."

Scoffing, Mako drops his head and rubs circles in the middle of his forehead with his fingers. His teeth are clenched, his stance rigid. "Jealousy is an ugly thing, Korra. Better stop while you're ahead." It almost sounds like a warning.

The fire raging in her belly grew larger, her resolve slowly crumbling away like stone tumbling down a mountainside. "Hiroshi has you fooled. He was there tonight. People died tonight, did you not see? Innocent people!"

"Zolt was hardly innocent." Make has the scars hidden under his clothes to prove that Zolt was never a fair man.

"He was still a person. He didn't deserve to die."No one did.

"I'm going to say it one last time. Hiroshi has nothing to do with Amon. Please, trust me." Mako's voice is low and steady, but almost pleading.

"No, you need to trust me! He was there and he manufactured those weapons! Can't you see he has your wrapped around his fingers! And for what, Mako? Because he has money?"

The restraints holding Mako's anger let loose, his veins swollen with heat, his eyes burn from lack of blinking. "If anyone's wrapped around anyone's finger, it's you!" Mako's voice lowers his voice, his eyes breaking away from her cerulean eyes. "Amon almost had you tonight, because your heroics made you careless enough to fall into his trap! I know Yuke, but before tonight, I never would have taken the Avatar as a spineless kid with a damn death wish!"

Static fills the space between Korra's temples and a violent impulse yanks at her gut. She fights the urge to lunge at Mako, but his curt words, like rusted nails, pin Korra in place. For a moment, she fumbles with her resolve before she finds her words. "With or without you, I will destroy Amon, and I will take down Hiroshi along side him." Korra says with finality, not breaking eye contact with Mako. "And if you get in my way, you'll go down with them."

Korra turns, grabs her dirty scarf from Mako's sofa, and leaves the apartment. The night air is cold against her face and she pulls the collar of her coat over her mouth. Korra peers over her shoulder to look at the expanse of water stretching back to Air Temple Island; Korra sighs and turns away, heading for the street.

Her ankle still dully aches, but she walks with no more than an unnoticeable gimp—heading in the direction of the Sato mansion.