Author's Note: Wow! It's been over a year since this last saw an update! I've been scribbling bits and pieces of chapters in my notebook at work, but none have made their way to completion until now!

I took the liberty of changing the summary for this story, since the previous one was only a minute tasting of the entire story. I needed something that grasped the tale as a whole, and I think the new one does just that.

Along with a different summary, this revisited version is also going to see new chapter titles (even the ones already published). This is because I have so much more to add to the story that I couldn't possibly fill it all into the previous story's mold. Nineteen chapters (including the prologue and epilogue) are not going to be enough to put it all together, so stuff written together in the old one may not be together in the new, thus making a lot of the old titles off and out of vision with what I have now.

There are tons of differences between the previous version and this one, as far as this chapter is concerned. Same basic actions and settings, but what is revealed totally changes the game plan for what is going to be revealed in the later updates, which I hope will be quicker than those previous.

Read on, and I thank everyone who reads and reviews. Please check out 'Welcome To Parenthood' for sweet little oneshots on Azula and Chan's baby, Raiden too! Fans of this story (previous and current publications) should give the collection a read and a review or two! I'd appreciate it very much!

Chapter Three: The Truth Concealed

The rising fumes of the scorching lake that housed the Boiling Rock shrouded the sky in an eerie darkness. The water below bubbled and sizzled frightfully, ominously tempting fools to escape the prison it surrounded and fall in. The gray smoke rose in waving motions, and if one had the inspiration to form shapes out of those heated clouds, they would very easily discern the contour of slender hands, with index fingers extended in a coaxing gesture, calling out in whispers of sizzling breaths to those both dense and desperate enough to listen.

Firelord Zuko's eyes wandered to the bubbles in the boiling lake, his mind traveling to his past inside the prison. To his and Sokka's daring rescue attempt within the inescapable fortress. He never remembered Azula having any luck escaping from her confinement, nor did he recall her ever breaking out period. In all her madness, he thought as a massive roll of steam licked past his face and sent sweat beading down his forehead, she had never desired strongly enough the will to free herself. He pressed his palm against his forehead, wiping his brow in vain. It was not her will that kept her from breaking free; it was the will of her record-keeping keepers. The abrasive warden, with his efforts set on maintaining his prison's label, was swallowing his sister's ability to find freedom.

But, then again, so was he.

The warship he, Mai, Ursa, and the Avatar's cast were riding in made a sudden and abrupt landing. With a grunt, the exit ramp descended. Allowing his friends to exit the vessel first, Zuko peered back behind him, staring curiously at the cloud-shrouded water once again. If she had ever made it to that point, that creeping edge, Zuko questioned to himself, would Azula be lured into jumping in and ending her life before even considering going back? Would she surrender herself to such a death almost similar to a sacrifice by flame? Would she hesitate at the embankment, and ponder the purpose of her choice, or, would she jump right in and get it over with before more scars of her shame could be inflicted?

"Zuko?"

Mai's plain voice jolted the Firelord back into reality. He stepped off the ramp in a timid gait. In a way, the old warship was a model of safety, like a protective womb. Walking down the inclined plane and venturing into the Boiling Rock was like entering the world of looming danger. Zuko took a breath, and put the comparison behind him, finally making his way to his wife's side.

"Is something wrong, Zuko?" Firelady Mai asked, though the question came out more like a statement. Her tone was devoid of sympathy; the reason for them being here was on Zuko's head, and she had decided quickly to avoid concealing her blame on him.

"Nothing," he uneasily replied, ignoring the blank woman's lack of concern as he assumed walking ahead of her. His allies followed. "It's just… Azula. Hurt somehow."

"Stop thinking about it. Let my uncle explain it."

Mai's insensitivity –for someone who had once labeled the dispossessed princess as a friend –was implausible. The cutting stoicism she used sent him reeling into his blinded childhood, back in the days when their camaraderie was still going strong. Azula's anguish –though his understanding of it was rather limited in his youth –had never bothered Zuko before. He remembered being small and feeling an air of resentment resonate off of her (a black aura, Ty Lee called it once; an indicator of some internal, long-term sense of blame) when their mother was around. But because he was Mother's favorite –or, so he assumed –he reveled in her anger and thought nothing of it. Now, however, the pain Azula was experiencing was physical. Visible. Real. Not of the mind.

Eventually, though it had happened in an indiscernible blur to Zuko, the group reached the warden's office. Now realizing how close he was to realizing the truth, the Firelord anxiously rapped upon the ornate door that stood between them. Almost like the piercing, penetrating sound the pipelines in Azula's solitary cell made when stale water ran through them, the hinges on the door shrieked on an uncomfortably high note.

From inside the room, Zuko saw the warden scribbling notes on a piece of parchment at his desk. His solid expression of concentration melted at the instant he caught sight of his niece. The hefty, but no less muscular man dabbed the ink brush he had been writing with at the rim of a cup. The liquid dribbled down into the mouth of the clay mug and the black paint inside rippled upon being disturbed.

He stood, ready to warmly embrace Mai, but Zuko –anxious to know what awaited him in the prison hall –stepped between them. He flashed the scroll the warden had sent not a few hours ago.

"How is she? What happened?"

"She's… stable," the warden hesitantly answered, stressing the word, stable with a weighty sigh. His tone suggested he had been through a lot in the past few hours, and would have much rather eased his troubles off by hugging his niece. "Now, at least. She won't tell me what happened to her –not without spiraling into a depression. She's been sedated, but the meds are soon to wear off."

"What happened?" Zuko repeated in a vicious snap. "You said you found blood in her cell? Her blood?"

"Her blood, yes…" Perspiration appeared at the warden's forehead. "We found Princess Azula bleeding… vaginally."

If air had the precision to act on cue, it knew that this was the exact moment to chill to a peculiar cold. Like a cooler left open to exhale its frosty breath, the air swirled about, touching all in the room into feeling an uncomforting nervousness. Zuko, though trapped in stunned silence, caught the warden as he suffered a hard swallow. He shared the same uneasiness that quieted the whole crew. Not a hint of perversion had struck his tone. Though he loathed the ex-princess with every fiber of his being, his voice had only suggested pity. Perhaps not for Azula entirely, but for Zuko.

Or, for his prison's record…

"This," he said, ending the spell of silence, "is the only record of rape in the history of this prison. Our male and female prisoners have existed together since this penitentiary was founded, but never have we had a rape situation."

"You know this was a rape?" Zuko prodded, folding the scroll and tying its ribbon back upon it. "What evidence do you have?"

The warden fumbled to find words to support his claim, despite being solidly assured that the former sovereign had been sexually assaulted.

"Well…" he struggled, "we did detect the presence of semen within the confines of her cell. Having had no contact with anyone that would suggest a consensual encounter, we are construing this act as a rape."

"Any signs of a struggle?" This came from Mai, though her question seemed one-sided more than anything. She wanted facts –not a sympathy party for her sister-in-law.

"Her clothes were strewn about, and, upon being examined, my nurses discovered bite marks to her breasts, along with significant vaginal tearing that would confirm our theory of a rape. After refusing treatment, we drugged her and sewed her wounds up. She experienced rather severe tearing, and one particular bite on her left breast required a few stitches. We also noticed a rather nasty bump to the back of her head, but it wasn't brutal enough to require treatment. The rapist must have pulled at her hair, for we found some loose strands on the floor."

"Enough, Uncle," Mai interjected. There was more than one victim than just Azula, and Mai was sure to capitalize on that crucial fact. "What of the murdered guard? You said he was stabbed, right?"

The warden nodded, his expression revealing relief to stray from the previous subject of the princess' rape. He took a step backward, and pressed the backs of his beefy legs against the cool wood of his desk. He rested his palms on the table.

"He was stabbed in the neck," he claimed quickly, gesturing a now upturned palm into the air. "Obviously, the murderer took advantage of the weak area of the guard's armor, piercing him where his helmet or breastplate couldn't shield him. We know definitively that his killer was a right-handed male, based on the direction in which the wound was inflicted… Though that isn't much to go on…"

The warden continued on about how the perpetrator was able to both penetrate and escape the prison. Zuko caught him mentioning the possibility that the murder and rape were staged, and that that there was the slight chance that there were guards involved. But, after mentioning that, Sokka immediately broke in and warned the warden that infiltrating the Boiling Rock was an easy task. The Water Tribesman had experience in that area.

"You said the man took the keys and left with them," the Firelord debated, interrupting the warden from rebutting Sokka's claim with accounts between the distinction of past and present security measures. "What? Does that mean he has the opportunity to return and hurt my sister again?"

"I doubt he would even try. Why would he even need to? He made his point clear to her, whatever it was."

"But, if he does come back to assault her again," Katara asked, restraining herself from using the term, rape, to describe what had transpired in the prison a few hours ago, "isn't there a chance he could get her –"

"Pregnant?" The warden practically spat out the word, his face contorting with disgust. "Azula has no chance at a pregnancy whatsoever –in this instance or any hereafter. In her three years here in this facility, she has starved herself to the point where ovulation is rare, making conception impossible. Her menstrual cycle is so minute that we doubt its occurrence at all now. Adding to that, being as malnourished as she is making herself out to be, her body wouldn't even be able to support or even tolerate a pregnancy. I assure you, milord, you don't have to worry about your sister in that aspect. She will not conceive."

"And you're sure of this?" Zuko queried, his tone suggesting a lack of faith in such a bold proposition on the warden's behalf.

"Yes, I'm quite sure she isn't –"

"As Firelord, I request that you thoroughly monitor her for at least a month, just to make certain she doesn't become pregnant. If it all reveals nothing, then I will believe you."

"Meaning, you want us to watch for a miscarriage, because I doubt she'll even be able to keep a baby for that extent of time –"

"Meaning, I want you to watch for the presence of a baby, alive or otherwise."

Mai, vexed by Zuko's outright distrust of her uncle's take on the situation, growled, "Zuko, stop this. My uncle's right. There isn't going to be a child."

This last sentence came from her with an indication of anguish. An ulterior emotion, this was. Perhaps she assumed pity for even the thought of a baby born to the princess. A scorned child that had not a chance in this world if it actually existed. Mai understood deeply that the spirits were bashing the princess with punishments –punishments she deserved without question –and a baby was a far cry from a punishment. Why would they even consider her a candidate for such a blessing? It was just, simply, an impossible notion.

"I don't care," Zuko muttered. He, too, shared whatever anguish it was that they were concealing. "I just want my sister to receive the care that she needs."

"And she will, I assure you," the warden barked. "Now, would you be interested in getting a few words out of her? Alone… Without your mother present to set her off?"

"What good would that do? You just said you couldn't even –"

"You want proof of the princess' rape, or not? I feel she'd be more obligated to speak to family about it than strangers. Just –as I warned –keep your mother out of sight and earshot. We can't afford to have Azula digress further; you understand."

The warden wriggled himself upright, and stepped past his niece and the Firelord. He cast a glare at Zuko, one of urgency, one that read a curt and unabashed, let's get this over with so I can put this behind me and polish the nick in my record. Indeed, Zuko sneered, there was no denying the warden's purpose. This break-in was one of only two mistakes made at the Boiling Rock on his part, and, as he had put it a distant three years ago, he would have much rather jumped into the scorching lake that surrounded this prison than allow his pride and drive for perfection to falter. Zuko mused smugly as he followed the stout, middle-aged man if he would actually dare do it, just step lively and pounce into the flame-licked lake. But, in thinking that, the Firelord was brought back to his dishonorable quandary at the ramp of his war vessel. Was the warden as narrow-minded as Azula? To them, was death the greatest and easiest and most attainable escape from shame? Both keeper and prisoner carried their scars, their nicks; both had failed in duty and purpose in their own ways. Were both really so mesmerized by the prize of perfection that neither could see that death –suicide, no less –was no token to glory? Zuko himself had no chance to gather his answer before the warden halted and fumbled with a lock. The Firelord gazed ahead, finding himself suddenly a long stretch away from his former location. Entranced by thought, Zuko had blindly negotiated two levels of stairway and several turns down twisted corridors. Now, he was in front of what looked like the entrance to a locked interrogation room adjacent to the prison's linked mental institution.

The old door's clacking lock reverberated. The warden stepped aside, and allowed the Firelord to pass.

"I caution you," he said gruffly, "to be as neutral as possible. Don't play with pity and don't be pushy. You'll only infuriate her more."

Zuko shuffled past, surprised by the absolute whiteness of the room within. It shimmered almost, with that clean, asylum look. There, in the center, strapped to a chair, was Azula, inattentive eyes staring at a terribly scratched wood table in front of her. She did not seem to have the slightest clue of Zuko's intrusion.

"Azula, I –"

Azula started, but receded after seeing just who it was in the room with her. She struggled against her restraints like a trapped beast, dishonest eyes darting every which way. Patiently, the Firelord watched this inward war wage in his sister, and after a few tense minutes the former princess settled out of tired frustration. She became flaccid in her chair, worn and totally defeated by the events of the last few hours.

"The doctors say I should pay you no heed," she slurred, the drugs flooding through her still evident, "and you will go away."

Zuko harrumphed in disagreement. She certainly had not taken this advice when she burned Ursa a couple hours ago. No, she had thought her mother a figment, one that needed to be swiftly expunged. Azula had paid her mother significant heed, and burned her face in the process. But his poor sister was still under the influence of the medicines the doctors had used to settle her down; these words were not hers to believe.

"I'm real, Azula." Zuko was testing the water with this statement, knowing that conflicting Azula often incensed her beyond a rational level.

Her pupils quivered upward until they nervously managed to level with his. Sweat dribbled down her brow, and she almost appeared feverish, but Firelord Zuko was sure the drugs were to blame.

"I'm so sorry about what happened to you, Azula," he consoled after seeing that his previous declaration had not caused the whole establishment to burn down. "I want to help, but –"

"What do you know?" Azula barked with false toughness. Like her drug-ravaged body that quivered with her every move, her voice trembled too.

Zuko considered this, thinking back to what the warden had warned him about in the minutes prior. Pity was not an option, but how could the old man expect him to be harsh in the face of the fact that there was a perpetrator loose who had taken advantage of his younger sibling's frailty and raped her?

"I know," he said, "that a man snuck into the prison and killed a guard."

The Firelord was no expert on the human psyche, much less an expert on madness; he honestly had no idea when, or even how, to rightfully push the rape into the conversation without losing Azula's cooperation. And he was well aware her desire to cooperate with him was probably quite low, considering their shared past. He had to put it out there, that he had the upper hand, and at the same time establish her trust.

Zuko gave it a direct shot. "He raped you," he divulged. "The warden told me."

Azula admitted a sharp gasp, like a sound one would make after swiftly being stabbed. A sound of realization that doom was imminent. Shock caught her teeth in a tight clench.

She surged forward, but remained trapped to her seat, slurring furiously, "Then you know nothing! You know nothing!"

Zuko's sister was not even remotely in her right mind. The warden was a fool to order her drugged to the point of aggression, and even greater a fool to expect her to admit to anything under such an influence.

But he had no time to dawdle. This rogue man was out there, capable of rape and murder. Zuko had no desire to keep such a man on the run for long, for fear that he would grow bold and strike again –here or elsewhere.

"Please, Azula," he soothed, revealing his hands in submission. Giving Azula the upper hand was the only tool he had now to get a word out of her. Perhaps handing his dominance to her would help her see through the haze she was under. "Tell me what you know. We can get him, and bring him to justice for hurting you. You know more about him than anyone right now."

To this, Azula's erratic motions stalled, and she peered with bloodshot eyes at her brother in a most depressive, drawn scowl. But as quickly as this expression had appeared on her countenance, it shifted, unveiling a clever but still somewhat weak smile in its wake. Zuko felt a panicked sink in his chest. He had given up his dominance, and the Firelord honestly had no clue as to how Azula would use that against him.

He tensed as he saw her breathe inward, ready to speak.

She told him, "You need me to tell you something… But what do I earn in return for this favor, Zuzu?"

How stirring it was to see her go from tormented to intimidating in a matter of seconds, Zuko thought to himself. Her madness, and the influence of all that was flooding through her system, drove his sister to some disturbing states of mind, and it ticked at him that he had not seen this coming when he withdrew his authority.

"I can give you the assurance that you will not be taken advantage of again like that, Azula," Zuko offered. "And I can make sure you are cared for in the time being and your wounds are treated."

"That isn't enough," the scathing woman barked. "My wounds are already treated. My care is in my own hands, and, I assure you, I will not reveal his name for someone like you. Someone as meek as you would only deal him mercy."

The Firelord's nostrils flared. So many times over the years had his sister's conniving words incensed him; this time was no different.

He had to defend himself.

"You're already giving him mercy by keeping your mouth shut!" he shouted, red, flared hands rising in justification. He felt the rush of his abysmal past cloud over him like a storm brewing in, all that he had worked for in his banishment and all the trials he had endured to reach the point that he was at now in his life. "And I am no weak ruler, Azula! I'm proving to be doing a much better job than you are right now! You couldn't even maintain yourself in the short while that the throne was yours!"

Azula recoiled in her chair. Stunned, she lowered her head, her uneven, dirty hair feathering her face in bar-like stripes. She whispered, slow, her own fury building, "You are just like Mother. Believing me mad when I am sane.

"You think I'm a monster too."

In an instant, the quiet reserve the former sovereign had used in her tone erupted into a boisterous rage. She clenched her fists and heaved forward, fighting the binds along her wrists. Though her resistance kept her rooted to her cuffs, she struggled all the harder, flinging herself as wildly as she could manage, much to the chair's voiceless protest. The chair itself, somewhat light in weight even to someone as physically weak as Azula, levitated ever-so-slightly as she forced a shrill moan between her lips.

"You think I'm a monster too, don't you, Zuzu? You're not real! You're not here!"

A swirl of blue flame managed to flicker from her mouth. "I won't let you know his name! You know nothing! Nothing!"

With a deep breath, the churning cerulean flame Azula had harbored grew tremendous in size, and she released it, feeling her body shake in convulsed shock. The pressure she had been putting on the chair she sat in finally sent it flying backwards, and in a cracking thud, its back made hard contact with the floor.

So, too, did Azula's raven head, and like a dark blanket casting itself over her eyes, she felt her world finally go black…