Azula watched from behind a corner as Zuko and Aang made their way upstairs to ready Zuko's suitcase.

"I just don't know what else to do," she heard her brother say.

She gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. She should had known his promise had been worthless, and yet she had asked for it anyway.

There were a few options of what she could do. She could go back to her room and wait in silence. When Zuko returned she would deal with whatever he had found. Or she could meet him now. It would not be difficult to strike him from behind, prevent him from getting on that boat. As long as she didn't use lightning, it would be easy to frame one of the royal fire-bending guards. But then she would have to deal with the healer and the monk. She could beat them most likely. But killing him would simply cover the shame of her past by creating an entirely new shame. It would not have been an honorable killing, like in an Agni Kai, it would have been a cowardly one.

"Mother, this is how you left me," she whispered. "The same way he's leaving. In the middle of the night, in secret, treachery on your conscience... I don't suppose you know what I should do with him?" But she paused to think about it for a moment longer, and realized Zuko's treachery was not what was bothering her. "But I suppose you also know that a traitor can feel justified, and even so, sometimes it is better to look back on treachery and simply... forget." She sunk down to the floor and put her head in her hands. "I am not afforded that luxury of forgetfulness."

But her mother wasn't there to answer. She hadn't seen her mother with any regularity since undergoing Katara's treatments. The one time she actually thought to take comfort in her visions was after the visions finally stopped.

She could not kill him and she could not let him go. But she did have a third option: give him everything he wanted. She could control him by satiating him. Telling him the truth was the most counter-intuitive solution, but would give her control over the truth, and that was where the true power lay. She began to sweat at the thought of having that conversation with her brother. How would she even begin to put what happened into words?

It was the best option. If he found out the truth, she would be stuck here forever. But if she told him the truth herself?

She paced the hallway, waiting for him to pass her on his way out the door. The time to make up her mind was very quickly running short. Kill him? Let him go? Tell him the truth?

She would stop him as he passed. She would demand to speak with him. Perhaps he would realize it would be a lengthy conversation, and move it to the drawing room where she would tell him the story over a pot of tea. She would give him everything, even the details that stung like acid when she remembered them, that tasted like vinegar on her tongue. "You asked how I burned my hands, who the child's father is, what I was doing those two years in hiding," she would begin.

And when she finished, the emotion of what had happened would hit her, fully, for the first time. She would try to tell it with dignity and detachment befitting a woman of her stature, and she would fail. Her brother would see her cry.

She knew exactly how he would react to that. Take her hand, wrap his arms around her. He would forgive her immediately, simply because of her honesty and her tears. He would finally get the two things he always wanted from her. Information, and the chance to be her brother. Good, martyrous Zuko, the weight of the world on his shoulders, and yet he still had it in him to forgive his sick and expecting sister after coming to the rescue and taking her in from the streets.

All of this would be for his benefit. He would take pleasure in it. It would not be true forgiveness, because the only reason he would forgive her was because of how he received the facts, not because of the facts themselves. He would not wrap his arms around her and dry her tears if he found out the truth on his own. So what was the point?

Perhaps this was the last chance she would ever have to let him be her brother, to have any type of trust between the two of them ever again.

She could hear him approaching from down the corridor. She leaned against one of the pillars underneath a burning torch, partly to ease the burden on her aching back and feet, partly to restore the appearance of the cool confidence she had once had.

When he saw her he jumped dropped his bag, widening his stance and raising his hands, ready to defend himself. She had startled him. He would never break the habit of being startled by her. No matter how much weight she gained, how sick she looked, or how much she changed her hair and clothes. He knew exactly what she was capable of. Though the truth was, she could never admit how much he sometimes startled her. He looked like Father, and sometimes when he entered the room, she couldn't help but sit up a little straighter.

Azula briefly reconsidered the option of simply killing him, but then grinned. "You do amuse me, brother," she said. "Sneaking around at night, visiting libraries and prisons and catacombs."

"What are you doing awake?" he said.

"I got up to ask you that question. And to see you off. I don't suppose I'll see you for several weeks," she said. She stood and walked over to him. "Don't worry. I won't burn the place down in your absence. I wouldn't be able to rule it myself if I did."

He picked up his bag and sighed. "I'm going on a diplomatic trip to Omashu," he said. "I... I know we agreed to keep the past in the past." He struggled for words. "But... I want you to write me any time. If you ever decide to answer my questions. I'll read it."

"If I ever get such an impulse, I certainly will."

Even in the dim light she could tell he we was uncomfortable. "A diplomatic trip you say?" she said. She could have saved him a great deal of trouble by telling him here and now. But instead she nodded. "Don't drown at sea. Not that it would upset me terribly if you did." She crossed her arms and left the pillar where she had been standing to head back to her room. As much as it was to her advantage, she could never tell him the truth. The thought of that, of giving him that satisfaction, made her want to throw up.

Zuko nodded. "I don't intend to." He watched her for a moment with narrowed eyes, and then continued on his way.