Title: Solution(s)
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Pairing/Characters: Ty Lee, Azula (implied but never stated Tyzula)
Warnings: Dark Themes, allusions to suicide, language
Word Count: 685
Spoilers: Series.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I'm making no profits.
AN: I'm never sure exactly what kinds of technology and items exist in this 'verse. If something doesn't seem to make any sense, just go with it…
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It was beneath her. It was traitorous to her nature and pathetic and disgusting. But, hell, every other thing that kept her alive had long ago been crushed, so why the fuck not. Why the fuck not? "Please, Ty Lee," she demanded (begged/whimpered/cried/pleaded), the words curdling in her gut and dripping from her mouth like vomit, and Ty Lee choked on her own sobs as she vehemently shook her head 'no' until her vision began to shift and spin, as if she were plummeting downward from some great height.
"I won't do it—ever!" She brought her hands to cover her reddened eyes, as if it would make the rest of the world disappear (she desperately, desperately wished that)—her head was pounding like it sometimes did when she stood on her hands for too long. But right now, she was on her feet and the whole rest of the of the world was upside-down because Azula had said 'please' with her head tilted down and looking so weak and with a single actual tear in the corner of her eye (and the only time Azula had ever actually cried before was when…) "You're gonna get better." Azula had to get better because she was Azula, with the ever-present flame inside and because the Sun can't just stop rising.
"No!" Azula shouted, slamming her shaking fists into the padded wall of her cell, which made a 'pfwoosh' sound, sort of like a fire dying out, and for a moment, the sudden display of life almost made Ty Lee feel better, except it made her feel a whole lot worse. Azula paused, still facing the wall away from Ty Lee, then let out a broken sigh that was drowned out by the constant snuffling and hiccupping and whimpering of the other girl, and wiped her hand across her cheek, her broken nails leaving shallow scratches on porcelain skin, composing herself. She turned around, "I have been placed in a correctional institution. The goal of my being here is to facilitate recovery."
Ty Lee nodded, cried, considered sinking to the other woman's feet (sinking into a hole in the earth).
Azula's eyes were blank. "So help me get better." Ty Lee wailed and sobbed anew.
"I won't do it," her words were barely comprehensible between her tears, "I won't bring—a knife. I won't do it! I—hate you so much!—I love you. I love you! I can't—without you. Don't do this. Get better." Her head was shaking and spinning and it was making her sick and everything was too much because now Azula was sinking down onto the hard, stained mattress in the corner of the cell, her head connecting with the wall behind her so hard that Ty Lee heard the 'thunk' and was worried that the other girl's brains might just smash out and that made her cry even more. "You can't do this," she finished, wretched.
But Azula was tired (so tired) of dealing with this (everything/life/living) and she closed her eyes—the dark circles under them and the slight puffiness of her cheeks making her look lowly—and said, "Leave me be, now."
But the insulting noise of sniffling and heaving and crying (and heart breaking) did not fade away but instead grew louder and was soon joined by the soft groan of the springs in the mattress further compressing and the intermittent protest of the cheap, dispensable sheets crinkling and then Ty Lee's arms were around her and her face was pressed into the side of her arm, leaving a trail of wetness that was repulsive (heartbreaking).
"I can't do that, either," Ty Lee said, still searching for a stable breath even though her tears seemed to be expended for the time being. "I just can't do it—I can't." And Azula wasn't even sure what she was talking about anymore but she let the girl cry into her side regardless.
It was possible, Azula conceded, that the World just would not be able to take care of itself without her in it, which was a little heartbreaking (elating).