White Walls
by Kaiyrah
Author's Note: Just something really quick I whipped up after rewatching the finale.
Avatar: the Last Airbender and characters are not mine.
In all of her journeys, all of her travels, all of her time spent hiding away, never has she seen a sight like this.
All around her is white. The ceilings and floors, the clothing of the people she passes by - even the torches in the hallway burn white flames, and it boggles her mind with every step she takes in this place. Her faded green Earth Kingdom robes stand out.
The walk to her destination is very long and uncomfortable, but not because she is growing tired. Oh no, she's had plenty of experience walking about without the use of a palanquin anymore. She likes to think that her legs are quite strong.
No, it isn't the walk at all.
Her eyes drift to a figure in the hallway. She is an elderly woman with gray hair thinning at the crown of her head, and like everyone else, she too is clad in white. Her gait is slow and unfocused.
Silvery eyes, hazy and wild, stare at her as she approaches. Horrified, fascinated, she stares back.
She continues watching the woman even as she passes, and she turns her body to look behind her. Her stomach twists when she witnesses the woman's neck rotate nearly 180 degrees like a cat-owl with that same blank stare.
"That's Xiu Popo," a voice interrupts her staring contest with the woman, and she snaps around to focus her attention forward once more. "I'm sorry?"
The doctor leads them down another hallway to the left. "Xiu Popo. She's been here for almost twenty years. From what I hear, her husband had died earlier at the Battle of Garsai. And then when her son died, she just snapped."
A note of pity slides into her voice. "I see..."
"It is a very common story, milady. No need to sound upset," he expresses tonelessly, and she frowns.
This new hallway seems to be much more quiet than the one she had been following before, and not in a good way. Because of the decreased ambient noise, her hearing is able to pick up the more subdued sounds she might have otherwise missed. The rattling of chains, a frantic scream from a distant room. The hairs on her neck stand up.
The pair stops in front of a large door braced with several locks. "You're the first of her kin to visit her."
Not even Zuko...?
The doctor produces a large iron ring from his pocket and takes his time with the door, opening each lock one by one. When he undoes the last latch, she takes in a deep breath and hastily enters before she can change her mind.
It is bright, too bright. Just like the rest of the institution, this room is white all around, the walls padded. Her gaze focuses on a lone figure slumped against the wall opposite the door. A young woman with disheveled black hair stares off into space, her once gleaming gold eyes now dull and restless. Her arms are crossed across her abdomen in a tight robe, the sleeves sewn shut to the back of the garment.
She feels the bile rise up in her throat and swallows. "Why is she restrained like that?"
"She's highly volatile, so we must use all possible measures to prevent her from firebending," the doctor speaks in hushed tones, and pushes his glasses farther up his nose. He touches the padding on the back of the door. "You'll notice that the walls are covered in our patented fireproof coating. She's completely safe here, Lady Ursa."
A sigh escapes her throat and she looks back at the girl, who has only now noticed the doctor's presence.
"Why do you talk as if I'm not here?" the girl demands, and she attempts to stand, only to stumble over and fall onto her side. Ursa suppresses the urge to help her up. "And where is your respect? You will address me as Fire Lord!"
The doctor bows exaggeratedly. "My deepest apologies, Fire Lord Azula." He then shoots Ursa a look as if to say, just humor her.
Ursa feels her hackles rise at this. The doctor really doesn't need to put that much sarcasm in his voice, does he?
Azula smiles, though it is half-concealed by the white floor in which she buries her face. "Good, you know your place." As she struggles to sit up, she finally notices Ursa standing near the door and she freezes. A glint of recognition and something else - fear, perhaps? - flashes in her eyes. "You... What are you doing here?"
She doesn't trust her voice, but there is no telling what will happen if she doesn't answer. "I'm here to visit my daughter. I want to tell her... that I will always be there for her."
The young girl laughs; the bitter sound almost makes Ursa recoil. "You were always a bad liar, Mother. I'm sure that's where Zuzu gets it from."
"Your brother has never visited you?"
"No, why should he? He doesn't care. And you don't care either. No one does." Azula looks down at this, her lip trembling.
Ursa takes several steps toward her daughter, ignoring the warning looks from the doctor. Was this what Azula thought all of these years? Did she really think that no one cared? That her own mother didn't care? "No. I love you, Azula. I do."
Azula's head shoots up, her tearful eyes piercing through her as she shrieks in protest. Ursa barely has time to throw her hands in front of her face as Azula breathes fire in her rage. Immediately she hisses in pain as the flames lick her hands, and from the corner of her eye she can see the doctor and several nurses rush in with a strip of fabric and wet rags.
Vaguely she hears one of the nurses fussing over her wound, but her eyes remain on her daughter who is now bound and gagged and thrashing about on the floor, and something inside of Ursa breaks. Now they are helping her up, ushering her out of the room to get her burns treated, but she turns her head to watch Azula for as long as she can.
The gag in Azula's mouth is charred and she doesn't show any signs of stopping her movements. That means one thing, Ursa thinks. They'll have to sedate her. Sure enough, the doctor pulls a syringe from his pocket, almost as if he had been expecting this to happen and injects it into her flesh, and only then does Ursa force herself to turn away and wonder what has happened to her daughter.
Warm droplets slide from the corners of her eyes, and it has nothing to do with the stinging medicine the nurses have applied to her wound.
She can still hear her little girl screaming, crying, desperately sobbing.
I'm sorry, Azula.
fin