First Step
Written for xFallenxFromxGracex who asked for something post series Azula centered.
Azula couldn't believe that she had actually wept, not dainty, regal like tears, but hot streams of them pouring down her cheeks, her mouth wide with cries of anger and frustration at her defeat, her nose damp with snot. She had actually cried in front of her inferior brother and that Water Tribe wench. And they had looked at her with pity and even sorrow. The humiliation of it had stuck to her for days, unwilling to let go, like glue that was spilled on a tunic, stubbornly holding on.
But that was then and this was now, two weeks later, Zuko already crowned Fire Lord and she stuck in some stupid institution they dared to call a hospital. Everyone thought that she was crazy and perhaps she had been for those few hours before her aborted coronation and those few hours after the battle was all over and she had sat chained to a grate of all things.
But no longer; she was sane and whole again, not fragmented. That word immediately called up a memory for Azula, the memory of her throwing her hairbrush at the huge mirror and then staring at her broken reflection. Her mother had appeared and spoken false words of love and encouragement. But, of course, that hadn't been her mother at all. It had been her tired mind playing games.
Maybe there was a tiny part of Azula that wanted her mother's love and approval, the part that remembered being a little girl or perhaps still was that tiny princess with the bright eyes and perky ponytail. But most of her didn't care at all about the woman who had left and who had always loved Zuko best. What did she matter? What did any of them matter? Azula had always been alone and she functioned best that way. Why couldn't any of them see that? Why was everyone else so damned stupid?
That was her world now; memories and random thoughts that strayed into her consciousness at the oddest of times. There was no one to talk to but the healer who came in once a day to assess her condition. He was all right, but he was no match for her intellect. The woman who shoved her meals in through a slot in the door sometimes replied with a grunt when the princess commented on the quality of the food. The other patients stayed clear of her when they all had free time in the courtyard, the only time of day when she could stand 'free' beneath the sun. Other than that, human contact and conversation was nonexistent. No correspondence came for her; no letters from Mai or Ty Lee or Zuko. Sometimes Azula felt as though she wasn't really alive any more. If no one noticed, did the breaths that you took, the movements you made or the things you thought matter in the least?
That was a contradiction right there. The princess wanted people to know her, remember her, fear her, but at the same time she saw herself as far above everybody else, above simple human needs and desires like friendship and love. Which was it? Azula didn't know for sure and the question frightened her a bit. Her entire identity was in question. Who wouldn't be frightened by that?
When the healer warily entered her stark chamber, a phony smile plastered on to his ugly face, and four guards surrounding him, Azula laughed.
"Do you find something amusing, Azula?" Raising his scraggly eyebrows he waited patiently for her response.
She stiffened at the use of her name rather than an honorific like she deserved. But she held her tongue in that regard. There was no sense in fretting over such small things, not when her life and her future depended on her behavior.
"You look so scared," she stated. That was a victory in itself. He was really paying attention now. "I won't bite. At least not now. And you do realize that four guards are nothing for me to take down?"
"I understand that. Do you understand that your bending is repressed by the combination of herbs you ingest every day?" He sounded confident now, this Fumiko man, and the initial fear he had shown was gone. So much for little victories.
"Yes; I'm a great firebender. Of course I'll notice when my chi has been messed with. I could choose to not eat for a few days. Have you thought of that?" She was beginning to enjoy the little repartee.
Fumiko smiled, this one genuine. "The herbs build up in your system and it would take days for the effect to wear off. You would be very hungry and weak by then, unable to do much of anything." How would she get around that one? He was curious about her response.
"You underestimate this member of the royal family's strength and perseverance. What would weaken a common peasant in a few days would take a week for me." She gave him a smirk and put her hands defiantly on her hips.
The healer chuckled. "Well, perhaps we need to up your dose of herbs? I'll have to talk with the Fire Lord about that. He's keeping a close watch on your treatment."
"Funny, he hasn't come to see me," the princess retorted angrily.
Suddenly the light hearted atmosphere had changed into something much uglier.
"That is between you and your brother, though I do encourage him to make contact. Perhaps you could write him a letter. It would give you something to do, and an opportunity to express your feelings. What do you think of that?"
Azula wrapped her arms tightly about her body as if hugging herself. "I won't beg that bastard for anything. He knows where I am. He put me here after all."
"There was a need, Azula," Fumiko stated gently. "What choice did he have? What choice did you give him? What would you have done in his place?"
"I wouldn't have been nearly as merciful." Honest words, but harsh ones. "I would have executed Zuko on the spot, gotten rid of the problem, ended the issue forever. But I'm stronger than my brother. He doesn't have the guts to do that."
"Mercy isn't weakness, Azula. That's a lesson you really need to learn." Part of him wanted to reach out, put a hand on the princess's shoulder and let her feel the warmth of human contact. She looked a baffling combination of power and fragility that tore at his heart. But he refrained. "Write to your brother. Consider it part of your treatment. I'll have the paper and ink brought to your room."
Blinking rapidly, she contemplated Fumiko's suggestion once more. "Fine," she spat out sullenly. What harm could it do, this letter? And sadly enough, she had all the time in the world.
The healer looked pleased. "Good; you won't regret it, Azula. I'm proud of you for taking that step."
"Proud of me?" she murmured.
"Yes, Azula, proud of you; don't sound so surprised." He gave her another smile, turned about and left the room, the guards right behind him.
"Proud," the princess repeated once more.
When the writing supplies came she set to her task with more true enthusiasm than she had shown anything for weeks.
A/N: I'm pretty harsh when it comes to Azula and the possibility of her rehabilitation. Personally, I don't think it's possible. So this story is a little more sympathetic than I usually am in regards to her.