First off, yes I changed the title. There are like a 1,000 "Book 4:Air" titles and so I wanted to make it something different. I promise the title has to do with the story.


"Sokka, what are you doing?"

Sokka turned his head at his sister's inquiry.

Truthfully he was looking for the hardest wall, after which he was going to repeatedly bash his head into it. Maybe then he would not be stupid enough to agree to do such incredibly stupid things. Like guard the homicidal sister of the man he had fought side by side with years ago. Because stupid was really the only word coming to mind. He had thought he'd have a bit more time when she was, well, too broken to be the crazy bitch he remembered. But, of course, she would be unusually strong and regain her bitchiness quickly. The girl couldn't hold onto a window sill and she was already making him--well, making him look for a wall to bash his own head in on.

"The next time I agree to do something crazy and stupid, stop me?" he said looking at her.

"Oh Sokka," Katara said with a smile, "I may be a Bending Master but I'm not a miracle worker."

Sokka groaned and hit his forehead against the tapestry-covered wall. Katara tried to hide her smile but failed miserably. Poor Sokka, he did have the habit of letting his ego speak where his mind should. But he was usually quite good at rectifying the situation. Unfortunately Katara had a feeling things were going to get a whole lot worse before they got any better. Especially if their past with the Fire Nation Royalty was any indication. Katara stepped forward, pulling the heavy silk of her formal skirt aside so she could approach him without quite so much trouble. She leaned against the wall and looked over at him.

"What have you gotten yourself into this time?" she asked.

"You don't want to know," he said miserably.

"If its causing you this much suffering," Katara said, the teasing still in her voice, "then I think I have to know."

Sokka looked over at her, wondering exactly how he was supposed to tell his sister that he had agreed to guard the Princess of the Fire Nation. Even now when he thought back on it, he could see what a monumental mistake it had been to agree to do that. Even the small voice in his head that told him that he was doing the right thing was overwhelmed by the knowledge that he had agreed to act as the bodyguard for a Princess who most likely would still have no qualms about murdering him. And now he was supposed to tell that to his sister. Katara might have agreed to come and help save Azula but he didn't think she'd really like being informed that her brother had committed himself to protecting the girl that had once caused them so much pain.

"I agreed to act as Azula's bodyguard," he said finally.

Katara stared at her brother, her mind taking a moment to process what he had just said. Sokka had just agreed to be the bodyguard for the Princess Azula. Azula who had imprisoned the first girl Sokka had truly loved, who was as broken as a doll that had been cast aside by a child trying to be a grown up, who had willingly shot lightening at her own brother with the intent to kill him. Sokka had agreed to protect her. Katara searched his face, desperately wishing that she would not find truth in her eyes. Unfortunately she nothing but truth in his eyes. Sokka had agreed to protect Azula.

"You what?!" Katara cried, horror and disbelief in her eyes.

"I know, I know," Sokka groaned closing his eyes, "Mai asked, I agreed," he sighed, "mistake, I know. But she made some valid points--" he stopped, "you know I'll agree to anything when a woman suggests it!"

"You are guarding Azula!" Katara cried.

"I know that!" he shouted back.

"How long?" she demanded, "for how long are you doing this?"

"I--" Sokka stopped, "I don't know. For as long as she needs me, I suppose," he finished.

"As long as--Sokka did you forget?" Sokka looked at her blankly. Katara gritted her teeth, "the Southern Water Tribe," she said, "you do realize that you're the oldest, you're going to need to come back and start your training to lead the Tribe."

Sokka stared at her. Now, she was bringing that up now? He had known she would bring it up eventually. But to do it now, after he had made the decision he had, he was in a state of disbelief. He knew that Katara hadn't taken his leaving as well as he thought she would, as well as she told him that she had. He knew he deserved to be reminded of his duty, the duty that he had abandoned for ten years as he struggled to find who he was free of his family, free of his friends. But even the mere mention of that duty made his heart pound a bit faster, his palms slick with perspiration. Fighting alone, depending on his only sword, those were things he knew how to do. Leading the entire Southern Water Tribe, that was the one duty he was sure no amount of preparation get him ready for.

"I know," he said shaking his head, "but this is important as well."

"Sokka, you have a duty--" Katara began.

"You want to talk about duty?" Sokka demanded turning around, "what about my duty to the world. What do you think will happen if she's assassinated? Or if she's kidnapped by the people who took her? What then? What do you think will happen if I'm off training and the world gets plunged into chaos?"

"Then we'll figure it out," Katara said raising her chin bravely, "all the nations, no-one wants another war."

"Are you kidding me? Have you not looked at the Fire Nation recently?" Sokka demanded, "Zuko's reign is hanging on by a thread and we both know it."

Katara opened her mouth to protest, as if by doing so she could undo the truth in his words. The Fire Nation was in a bad place and they all knew it. These peace talks might have been good step, but they were more for show and influence than for actual peace. The Fire Nation was still looked on with suspicion and fear. The people who had once been at the pinnacle of the Four Nations were little more than bottom feeders now. People remembered those they loved, the land, the possessions, everything that had been taken from them by the Fire Nation. Even the people of the Nation who had been innocent, they weren't thought of that way, as if the deeds of the army and its leaders had been the actions of them all. The horrible question was that what if what happened with Azula was the thing that pushed the people of the Fire nation over to the edge? What if this was what plunged them into another war?

"You can't keep doing this," Katara said, "you can't keep making excuses, you can't keep running from what you are."

"I'm not running!" Sokka cried, "I just know that there's a hell of a lot more to the world than what exists in the Southern Water Tribe," he added, his voice low and angry.

"That is our home," Katara said angrily.

"Maybe its yours, but it hasn't been mine in ten years," he said, "I left Katara, I left and i went out into the world. Dad probably still hates me for it--"

"Don't you dare," Katara hissed, "do you have any idea what it was like to see him when you had just left and he had to tell the people you were gone? Or when it had been three years and he had to make sure everyone knew you were coming back? Or how about last year when the rumors started going around, saying that they should name a new person as the leader and he had to fight his closest friends, choosing you over people he had known for longer than we've been alive? Or how--"

"Stop," Sokka cut her off, "just stop," he looked away before turning back to her, "I can't do this," he said turning around, "I have to make sure Azula's safe. Right now, that's my duty, preventing another war's my concern."

"Sokka!" Katara cried as he walked away from her, "Sokka please--" but he was already halfway down the hall.

Anger pounded through Sokka as he walked down the hallway. He knew he shouldn't be walking away from his sister but this was the only way. He had gotten so used to the option that when someone infuriated him he could settle it with his sword that he didn't really know what to do with Katara anymore. She was a girl but more than that she was his sister. It wasn't like he could challenge her to a fight. If he couldn't even deal with his sister, how was he possibly supposed to face his father. Worse, how was he supposed to face the people he had left? How the hell was he supposed to rule the people that he had abandoned when he could not even find a way to argue his point without bringing it to violence?

He walked through the palace, back to the doors of Azula's room. Reaching out he undid the lock to the door and pulled it open. The room was silent, illuminated only by the sliver of light that came through the door where he had pushed it open. There was no Iroh or Zuko inside either, only a Princess surrounded by the past that he was sure seemed all a lie to her. Sokka's eyes moved around the room, searching for threats but finding none. Azula was easy to find, the only figure in the room. She sat near her window, her body turned towards the night sky as her eyes locked on the world separated by the glass. She was dressed in a long red dressing gown, heavy with gold embroidery. It was a garment fit for a Princess, a fact obvious even in the dark of the room. Though it was very late, Azula was not asleep.

"If you are going to come inside, do so," she said abruptly, her voice leaving little room for argument, "its stupid to have to guard two openings."

"Can't sleep?" Sokka asked as he stepped inside and closed the door.

"I have slept enough in the past few years," she said.

"I don't think being doped counts as sleeping," he said.

She turned her head and glared over at him, the effect magnified by the dark hair that fell to curtain one side of her face. Her gold eyes flashed dangerously as she looked at him but the usual intent to kill was seriously less than what he was used to. She was tired, it was written on every line of her face, but if he had guess he would say that she was afraid of sleeping. He had nightmares the first two months after that final battle and he hadn't lost anyone he loved or been betrayed by everyone that he trusted. Or suffered a mental breakdown. Slowly he stepped fully into the darkness of the room, not reaching for any lamp. He walked forward until he was level with her bed but not close enough that she could land an actual hit on him. She made no move to make further conversation with him, seemingly content to sit in the silence. She seemed uncomfortable, even in her own room.

"I'm guessing its really hard to sleep on a bed," Sokka said. Her eyes went back to the window, "you know, sleeping on the mat in that cell."

Azula's eyes widened as she looked at the window. That place, that was what it was usually called. Her cell was usually 'the room'. Everything had been romanticized, turned into something else. No-one had come out and admitted what had happened. No-one had come out and said that she had been put in a cell in a mental hospital where she had been doped for a decade. Everyone seemed determined to make it sound as if what happened had been nothing more than another fight. Another slight adversary that could be easily overcome. Like she had overcome anyone who had told her that she could not pull off something in her youth. But no-one had said that what happened was terrible. No-one had acknowledged that instead of dealing with what had caused her breakdown she had sat, unaware, for ten years. Ten years and she had come out the other end a scapegoat and a broken doll all in one.

"I'm not tired," she said finally.

Sokka shook his head at her stubbornness, hating just how easily he could read her. She was pissed. Pissed and angry, especially at her family. He understood all too well how that felt. There were days when he too wanted to scream at everyone in his family--days like the one that he just had. He crossed his arms and leaned against one of the posts that supported the canopy above the bed. He could feel the velvet against the exposed skin of his shoulder, the fabric thick and heavy and luxurious. Luxury draped everywhere in the room, from the dressing gown she wore to the velvet hung on the bed. It was such an alien place, especially when he thought about the fact that the room belonged to Azula.

"No," he said finally, "but I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that you're pissed off," Azula's eyes narrowed, "mostly at yourself," Sokka finished.

"Angry at myself?" Azula demanded, her head whipping around, "how dare you presume that I am angry at myself," she stood up, drawing herself to her full height as she strode over to him, "I did nothing wrong!"

"I'm not saying you did," he said looking down at the golden eyed Princess, "but you're pissed at yourself."

"Stop saying that," she snapped.

"Its the truth," he said, "and you know it. You're pissed off at you and we both know why."

"Enlighten me," she hissed.

"Because you broke," he said looking down at her, "and if there's one thing I know about you its that you can't stand weakness, especially in yourself, and the fact you're broken, it kills you inside."

Azula opened her mouth, livid that he could read her so easily. But no words seemed to come out. He had read her like an open book and he didn't even have the decency to shield his words. Everyone else seemed so content to do so--as they had for a very long time. But not this stupid, insolent Southern Water Tribe boy. Man, she supposed, despite not wanting to admit it, he was a man. Even now she had to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. Of course what she really wanted to do was not look him in the eye but rather draw back her hand and slap him as hard as she could across the face--as long as her hand was full of fire. Unfortunately the problem lay with the fact that there was absolutely nothing to be done about that. She could no more bend fire than she could fly.

Much to her horror she felt her throat tighten and her eyes burn. It had been so long since she had cried, the idea of doing it in front of him was something that her pride would not allow. So instead of slapping him or trying to burn him, she did the only thing she could. Pushing past him she ran into the washroom and shut the door as fast as she could. Gasping for air she bent over, trying to be sick. Throwing up would be so much better than crying. Sobbing would be admitting she wasn't in control of herself. That her emotions had gotten the better of her. That she couldn't admit. Because the idea that her emotional control was gone, that she had lost yet another thing, that was something she couldn't stand. But she couldn't be sick, all she could do was gasp for air as the hot tears in her eyes struggled to overflow.

She didn't know how she heard the door open but she did. Zuko would have let the door stay closed, Iroh, Ty Lee, Mai--everyone would have understood what her closing the door meant. Unfortunately it seemed that Sokka was not one of those people. He opened the door and came inside.

"Get out," she gasped.

"No."

Her head snapped towards the figure in the door. Sokka looked at her calmly, not off put by the anger in her eyes or the tears he saw swimming in them. He looked at her like he would look at anyone who had fallen as far as she did. He looked at her with enough pity in his gaze to break her heart. Angrily she returned his look, her eyes barely able to focus with the tears that had filled them. Furiously she drew herself up, determined to throw him out of the room in any way that she could.

"Get out," she repeated.

"No," he replied.

"I don't want your pity or your concern," she said, desperately focusing on the anger she felt rather than the tears that were dangerously close to overflowing.

She still felt the horrible pressure around her throat, the burning in eyes. But now it felt like there was something in her chest, some strange kind of pressure that was making it hard to breath. Even as she gasped for air, she found it difficult to move. Her heart was little more than a dull echo in her ears. She could feel it racing through her, her pulse rapid. She tried to catch her breath but she found it exceptionally hard to do. Emotional control, her heart, all of it just mean that she was loosing it all. She had lost her mind a very long time ago, now it just meant that her mind was going once again. At least last time she hadn't even known that it was happening. Maybe this time it was going to happen again. The palace couldn't protect her. They would dope her again and her bending would still be gone, still be lost, the thing that had made her Azula would never come back.

Sokka saw the panic, the fear, saw it all in her golden eyes and he realized that Azula was in trouble. This wasn't just crying, this was more than that. She was panicking. She was having some kind of attack. Sokka hurried forward, crossing the room. She was too lost to notice the movement on his part as he closed the space between them and grabbed her shoulders. Her eyes remained locked on the wall behind him as her chest heaved irregularly, her hands remaining loose by her sides. His fingers tightened against her shoulders as he tried to get her to focus on anything but the terror that had gripped her.

"Azula--Azula," he said her name quietly, his voice low and urgent, "look at me, Azula," his fingers dug into her shoulders as he gave her a shake.

"No--no!" she shook her head suddenly, her eyes squeezing shut as she lashed out.

Her movements were erratic but deadly as she struck him. Sokka grabbed her wrists, pinning them against his chest as he held the Princess against him. She still struggled but she was too off balance to land any kind of kick and at such a close range he easily overpowered her. Just as before when she had dropped into his arms from the sky, he was painfully aware of just how warm she was. He knew it was her Bending that made her so, but it was strange to feel that unusual warmth against him. She shook her head furiously, her ebony hair flying out as she tried to break his hold but he kept her locked against him.

"Its okay," he said, "I'm not going to hurt you. I can't even Bend, remember?" he added, trying to break through whatever hysteria had gripped her.

"Neither can I!" she gasped, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, "I can't Bend--I can't--" she shook her head, "I'm useless!"

Sokka stared down at the woman in his arms. He realized that even if he would still care about them without their bending, if Toph or Aang or Zuko or Katara lost their bending they would be drastically changed. Zuko had lost his bending and he had gone off on what they had been sure was a suicide mission to reclaim his powers. It had been weeks for him. But Azula had been without her powers for upwards of ten years. A decade not Bending, he couldn't imagine a week without fighting--much less ten years of it. But that was that Azula had been without. A part of her had been ripped away and as much as he was sure that he shouldn't feel anything but anger and pity for the Princess, he realized that in a strange way he felt empathy. He didn't know what that was like, but he was certain that it was terrible.

"Look, maybe you just forgot," he said. Her body still shook but she didn't lash out at him, "maybe--maybe you just need some training to remember. I'm sure Iroh would help you. Isn't he supposed to be some great Fire Bender?"

"No," she shook her head and tried to pull back. Sokka kept his grip on her wrists, "let me go," she said, her voice low and thready, "let me go!" she said raising her head to meet his eyes.

"Not until I know you aren't going to be injuring yourself or me," he said.

"And how do you presume to know that?" Azula demanded, trying to make her voice as intimidating as possible.

"Believe me, I'll know," he said looking down at her.

Azula met his gaze furiously, her wrists still stuck in his grip. She blinked, ignoring the shameful sensation of the tears that broke free and slipped down her cheek. Instead she focused on the fact she could see him more clearly. She forced every sensation down. The tightness in her throat, the burning in her eyes, each sensation she pushed back. She focused on her breath, on steadying her heartbeat. It was one of the fundamental things a Bender learned, especially a Fire Bender. Emotion was the enemy of control and control was the most important thing a Bender could learn. Control. She focused on that, on the control, on reigning in everything that she felt.

"Satisfied?" she questioned, her voice less steady than she would have liked.

"No way," Sokka said, seeing the hysteria still clinging to her eyes.

"Unhand me."

"No."

"I am ordering you to unhand me."

"My orders are to protect you. If I've got to protect you from yourself, then so be it."

Azula's eyes widened before they narrowed in anger. She needed protection, she could admit that though it was grudgingly. But to be thought of as needing protection from herself, like some suicidal fool, that was the thought she couldn't stomach. That was the reason they had committed her--one of many, but it was a reason none the less. Her fingers tightened as she tried to push him away but he didn't budge. Her eyes went to their forearms. The hands that gripped her were calloused and rough, their shade much darker than her own porcelain skin. His hands were large, large enough that they would have no problem circling her wrists. Her own hands were still against his shirt as she tried to push him away. What caught her eyes were her nails. They were short and blunt, not the long elegant nails she had struggled so hard to maintain. Her hands belong to a mental patient, not a Princess and certainly not a Fire Bender.

Her breath seemed to slow as time moved like thick syrup. She could feel her heartbeat still but the beats seemed to be further apart. It was as if everything had slowed.

And then she saw the sparks.

They danced over her fingers, pure white with the promise of fire. Using all her might she stepped closer to Sokka before she pushed him back. His hands slid free of her wrists just as her fingers burst into flame. Both their eyes widened as bright blue fire roared across the skin of Azula's hands. Her eyes widened as she looked at the fire, fire that a moment ago she had been certain she would never see again. A delighted, weightless feeling soared through her as she brought her fingers closer, watching as the flame moved with the motion. Bringing her hands back to her chest, she clasped them together and watched as the flames extinguished, vanishing out of existence.

From his vantage point, Sokka stared at Azula's clasped hands. She had just Bent, despite being convinced moments ago that it wouldn't happen ever again. The sorrow, the panic, it was all gone from her face and for a moment the look that painted her features was so incredibly innocent and happy that Sokka felt his heart break. Her eyes slowly rose from her hands to his face, the delighted look not slipping from her eyes.

"I-I can Bend," she whispered. He nodded slowly, "I--"

Whatever she was about to say was lost as her eyes rolled up. Sokka dove forward, barely managing to catch the Princess in his arms. She was boneless against him, her head landing on his shoulder. Sokka looked down at her, surprised to see the fabric of her sleeves was singed. The fabric near her chest was blackened from the heat of the embroidery and he was sure that there was a bit of soot on her nose. The illusion of perfection was gone and for some reason Sokka felt greatly relieved at that. Carefully he slipped an arm under her knees as he stood up, Azula's warm body in his arms. He walked out of the wash room and back to the bedroom. Moving over to the bed he lowered her onto the bed, drawing the blankets up around her shoulders.

"Sweet dreams, you crazy Princess," he muttered walking over to the door and opening it, slipping outside to watch over her for the rest of the night.

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