Korra had fallen onto her side when the doors slammed her inside, caging her like a wild animal. She shook hard, her breathing hot and fast, wisps of fire still tickling her throat. It was dark in the back of the Satomobile.

And she was alone.

"We got your back, Korra," Mako had said when they'd found her crying, alone. She only let herself cry when nobody could see.

They'd promised her that she wasn't alone, that they would work as a team, that they would save the city together. But what if she couldn't keep them together? She hadn't, had she? She'd lost them, let them be arrested, couldn't get them out.

She couldn't beat Tarrlok.

She couldn't save her friends.

She couldn't save herself.

She couldn't.

Her face pressed against the hard metal floor as she tried to roll, tried to sit back up, but she was so tired and her body hurt and her face stung. She was bleeding. Alone. She wanted a friend, she wanted advice, and she wanted Aang. She'd always wanted her past lives to come to her, to tell her what to do, to reassure her that she was doing okay and that she was the Avatar for a reason and that they loved her too, but she'd never wanted it so much as now. She craved their presence in the dark, in the cold.

But they did not come.

She was alone.

Her tears were hot and they stung her cuts, mean and fierce, a fresh reminder that she'd been right all along. She was a failure.

Korra cried.

And Korra screamed.