Chapter Thirteen:

Azula woke up to find the room empty, though there was a bulging bag of food near their packs that told her that Sokka had come and gone. Worry gnawed at her as she glanced at the door, wondering where he might have gone.

A thousand thoughts ran through her head. Maybe he had been attacked. Maybe he had left her. Maybe the army had tracked them to the shack, and then to Gei.

Chewing on her lip, she paced the room, considering going out and looking for him. The sun was starting to go down, shining red and orange streaks through the window that overlooked the inn's back courtyard.

She had just about made up her mind to go looking for him when she heard the key in the lock. The door opened and Sokka staggered into the room, bringing with him the smell of alcohol. She gasped as he lifted his head, revealing a swollen, bruised eye and a bloodied lip.

"Hey, Princess," he slurred with a crooked grin that showed blood on his teeth.

Azula started toward him, but stopped, feeling her blood running cold. "What happened to you?"

"A minor disagreement with four gentleman at a tavern," Sokka said with a bite to his voice, his words running together. "I kicked their asses."

"Really?" she said, brow rising as she took in his swollen eye, which was the color of an eggplant, and the blood dripping onto his shirt.

"Well...they gotta few good licks in," he said dismissively and then stumbled trying to close the door. "Whoop."

"You're drunk."

"I'm na'drunk," Sokka slurred, turning back to face her again, his eyes unfocused. "I'm sober 's a...a sober guy that's na'drunk."

And then he promptly fell face-first to the floor, the thud vibrating through the floor. Azula flinched and went over to him. She hesitated and then rolled him over onto his back. He was breathing, at least.

"Wake up, Sokka," she said, lightly slapping his cheek. "Hey! Wake up!"

She hit him a little harder, but he just let out a sawing snore that made her flinch. She stared at him a moment and then let out an exasperated sigh.

Great. This was just what she needed.

"It would serve you right if you had a concussion or something," she said, feeling through his hair, but there was no blood on his scalp or a lump that she could feel. He went right on sleeping as she got up and went into the bathing room, where she got a wet wash cloth.

She grabbed one of the pillows off of the bed as she passed and sank down beside him, pushing the pillow beneath his head. Then she started dabbing at the blood on his mouth.

"Just when I start thinking you're not a complete idiot, you go and get into a drunken bar fight," she mumbled as he snorted on the floor. "But you are an idiot, Sokka. Telling me that you understand, that you want to help me...when anyone with half a brain would have left me in that market place. They would have left me in that inn that night. But not you, and I don't understand why."

She gently pressed the blood-stained compress to his swollen eye, but he didn't wake. Her other hand lifted, pushing his tangled hair out of his dark face. She tilted her head, studying his face for a moment. Despite the blood and the black eye...he was handsome.

Well, she had always known that. Though her old life seemed like it had happened to someone else, she remembered all too well seeing him at the side of the Avatar. Even when he'd been a ridiculous, skinny teenage boy, she had not failed to notice just how blue his eyes were.

She had clocked him as a threat the first time they'd met, and not just because of how annoyingly handsome he was—not that she cared about that—but because she knew a warrior when she met one. She had recognized the sharp mind behind those crystal blue eyes. He was smart, sly, and a strategist. Of all of his friends, even the Avatar or his Waterbending sister who had bested her when Zuko hadn't, it was Sokka she had always been most wary of.

Sokka was dangerous, and in ways she was entirely unprepared for. She found herself studying his battered face, stroking his hair back from his forehead. Touching him. Catching herself, she snatched her hand back, scowling.

It had been so long since she'd let anyone touch her, and today she had allowed him to put his hands on her so many times, and now she was touching him of her own accord, aching to feel the heat of his skin against hers... What was wrong with her?

What was it about him that got past her defenses, despite herself? She didn't want to let him in. She had vowed never to let anyone in...and yet she had... Why? What was wrong with her?

Azula pulled back the compress and shook her head. He was a mess and a drunk, but he hadn't run from her when she'd opened up to him and that counted for something. With a grunt, she rolled him over on his side so that he wouldn't choke if he threw up, then got a blanket from his pack and tossed it over him.

"When you wake up, we're going to have a little talk about your drinking habits," she groused. Sokka didn't answer.

Sokka wanted to die.

He stood in the shower, head hanging as hot water sluiced down his neck and shoulders, one hand braced on the grimy tiles. His right eye throbbed, the bruised skin tender and raw, with a faint contusion around the edges that would linger for days. At least the swelling had gone down a little. Not much, but enough that he could see out of his eye. Vision was overrated, however, as there was a blinding headache aching behind his eyes and bursting through his temples.

He shouldn't have started that fight and he knew it. It had been a stupid thing to do, dangerous, and pointless. Just because they had been talking about Suki...

But he didn't want to remember the crass things they had been saying. It just made him angry all over again.

Suki was at the palace right now, with that bastard, and here he was, holed up in a hotel room with Azula. Where the hell had his life gone off track?

He breathed out and put his forehead against the tiles. He wasn't being fair and he knew it. It wasn't Azula's fault, any of it. Just because he was confused...just because he missed his girlfriend, who was definitely not cheating on him with the Fire Lord...

His fist lashed out and he punched the tiles until they cracked and clattered into the chipped bathtub. It didn't make him feel better. He hadn't thought that it would.

He turned off the water when it started getting cold, climbed out and wrapped a towel around his waist. A glance in the foggy mirror over the sink just made him grimace. The bruise looked even worse than it felt.

A knock fell on the door and Azula's muffled voice said, "Are you alive in there?"

"Barely," he said, swinging the door open. Azula's honey-colored eyes widened, sliding from his face to his bare chest, down to the towel wrapped around his narrow hips and then back up to meet his eyes before darting away again. Her cheeks went a little pink. She looked acutely annoyed.

"What are you doing?"

"Forgot my clothes," he said, leaning against the door frame. He lifted a hand and gingerly touched his bruised face. He grimaced as pain twinged through his battered flesh.

"You look terrible."

"Mistakes were made. Regret is being had," he admitted, rubbing at his throbbing temples. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest, reminding him forcibly of his sister. He was pretty sure neither woman would invite the comparison.

"Why did you get into a fight?"

He waved his hand at her. "Reasons."

"Sokka."

Blowing out a breath, he shrugged. "They were saying some unrepeatable things. Some rumors...about Zuko. And... And Suki."

Her mouth rounded in understanding, and she suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Oh. And you believed them?"

"What? NOI I just—I—you didn't hear what they were saying. It was disgusting. They called Suki a whore."

"Well, what else do you call someone who cheats on their boyfriend?"

His mouth fell open. "Excuse me? Don't you dare call her that! You've been making snide remarks about Suki since we started this trip and I'm tired of it! She is not a whore and she is not cheating on me!"

"Then remember that the next time some drunken moron starts repeating one of those idiotic rumors! That's all they are, Sokka! Rumors! Aren't they?"

He opened his mouth again, but snapped it closed. He couldn't look her in the eye. "Yeah. They're just some stupid rumors."

"Then get over it and stop feeling sorry for yourself."

"I don't feel—"

"Yes, you do. Is that why you were drunk?"

"No! I just wanted a drink. No big deal," he said defensively. "I can handle a few beers."

"You passed out on the floor."

"Don't worry about it," he said, pushing off of the door frame. "I made a mistake last night. It won't happen again."

He pushed past her, careful not to touch her again. She let him go, watching as he clutched the towel and walked over his pack. He pulled clothing out and turned on her.

"They're watching us, Sokka. If they think you're a liability..."

"I'm a liability? Princess-" he started, incredulous, and then held up his hands. "Look, it's part of Tazeo's charm, okay? Mai's profile said he liked to drink and fight. I'm just living up to to his rep. If the Smoke Demons are watching us that closely it's important I play the part. We can't let them suspect that I'm not who I say I am."

"Are you honestly trying to justify getting into a drunken bar fight over the honor of a girl you—Tazeo—shouldn't even care about?"

"Hey, Tazeo's a bar fight kind of a guy," he said churlishly.

"Well, I don't like Tazeo very much," she said quietly, staring at the floor. "He's an asshole."

"Can't argue with that," he replied, sailing into the bathing room and slamming the door closed behind him. His mood soured even more as he pulled on his clothing.

They didn't speak to one another as they packed up and left the inn. They hadn't discussed their next assignment yet, but the scroll they had been given had included directions to another safe house on an outer island. It would take two days of hard travel to reach it, but Sokka thought the more distance they put between themselves and the army garrison they'd blown up, the better.

His hangover persisted throughout the first day, his bad mood aided by the coldness coming off of Azula in waves. It seemed that the understanding they had reached before his little drunken brawl had shattered.

He felt guilty about that. The fact that they had been getting along, even for a moment, that they had been able to actually speak to one another like human beings, friends even, had been a huge leap. Now they were back to silences and cold shoulders.

He felt incredibly frustrated with her all of a sudden. Why did she care that he'd had a few drinks? It wasn't like he'd murdered someone or something. What was the big deal? Hadn't he shown her that he was willing to reach out to her, that he was trying to understand what she was going through? And she had the nerve to get angry with him for having a beer?

He couldn't win for trying.

They made camp in a little copse of trees just before sundown. The blue skies and warm weather had faded as the day had gone on, with gray clouds crowding in, threatening rain. Wordlessly, he put up their little tent as Azula started a fire with the wood she'd collected and then started on dinner.

He was a little surprised at that; so far he had been making all of their meals, and then forcing her to eat them. She seemed entirely disinterested in food otherwise.

When he silently dipped out a bowl full of scorched and tasteless rice, he let out a dry chuckle.

Azula looked up from half-heartedly picking at her own portion and squinted at him over the fire.

"What's so funny?"

"If all you've had to eat is your own cooking, then I'm starting to understand why you're so damned skinny," he said with a grin.

Her face fell into a blank, angry mask and she dropped her chopsticks into her bowl with a clatter, then tossed it down on the ground, scattering the rice everywhere. "If you don't like it, don't eat it."

"I didn't say that... Well, I am saying that. You're a lousy cook, Azula," he said with a grin, but she didn't return the expression. He realized with a sinking feeling that she didn't find it as funny as he did.

"Maybe you should just drink your meal instead?" she said with disgust and gestured to the fire. The cheerily crackling flames instantly turned into a towering bonfire. Sokka reeled back from the blaze, falling off of the log he'd been perched on, his burned rice falling everywhere.

The flames died down again, as he picked himself up off of the ground. He growled and looked up at Azula, but she had ducked into the tent already.

He tossed his bowl aside, scowling as he swiped the rice off of his chest and neck. He could see her silhouette through the canvas wall of the tent, illuminated by the lantern she had lit. She got into her bed roll after only a few minutes and the light faded to nothing.

Sokka cleaned up the camp and then sat by the warm fire, trying to keep the chill off, his mood as dark as the night. The air was turning bitterly cold as it descended around him. The fire had burned down to coals when he felt the first drops of rain.

By the time he got into the tent, the promised rainstorm had unleashed, dumping buckets of icy cold rain down on them. Azula was curled up on her side facing away from him, the blanket over her head.

She didn't stir while he kicked off his boots and climbed into his own bedroll. He faced away from her, feeling as sour as he had that morning. He slowly drifted off to sleep, lulled by the familiar sound of the rain on the canvas.

He was awoken with a start a few hours later, tumbling out of half-remembered dreams in which he, Toph, Aang and Katara were desperately attempting to keep the Fire Nation palace from sinking into the desert while Suki and Zuko embraced on the moon. He was instantly alert, pulling a knife from beneath his pillow as the sound of a desperate, terrified wail filled the tent.

His heart lurched as he dropped the knife and rolled over to face Azula, who was thrashing in her sleeping bag, desperate pleas leaving her mouth. She looked tortured in the darkness, her brow furrowed, head digging into her pillow, sweat popping out on her skin.

"No... Stop... Please, it hurts... The dirt...can't breathe... I can't move..." she mumbled, her voice broken on a sob. Sokka's guts tightened as he reached out a hand and then stopped himself. He didn't know what to do, but then the memory of her scorching the sheets in the inn during her last nightmare hit him. If she let lose her Firebending in the tent...

"Azula... Azula, wake up," Sokka said, touching her shoulder. He shook her a little, but she merely thrashed in place, moaning. Outside, the wind had started to howl around them, lashing the tent with rain. "Come on, wake up, Princess."

"PLEASE!" she sobbed and then screamed, her body bowing in place. Sokka scooped his hand under her head, scooting closer as he lifted her against his chest. He held her close, shaking her again.

"It's just a dream, Azula. I need you to wake up, okay? Wake up... WAKE UP!"

"NO!" her voice broke, her arms lashing out in what he recognized as a Firebending form. His arm clamped down on hers before she could conjured any flames, and the pressure of his embrace instantly broke her out of her nightmare.

She let loose an animal sound and writhed in his arms. She struck out with her elbow, jabbing him in the throat, her other hand clawing at his arm. He cried out, choking, and let go of her, but she twisted around, launching herself at him with a snarl.

"AZULA, IT'S ME!" he coughed as she scratched at his face. He caught her hand but she fought him, shoving him onto his back and straddling him with one knee on his throat. She caught both of his hands and pinned them beside his head.

He could have thrown her off. He was stronger and he outweighed her. But he didn't. Instead he took in a strangled breath and then relaxed beneath her. He would not fight her.

"Azula, it's me. It was just a dream," he strangled out. "I won't hurt you."

She was breathing hard, her hair wild around her face as she put pressure on his throat and his wrists. It took a few moments for his words to sink in through her terror, but she finally let out a shuddering breath, her arms shaking.

"Sokka?"

"Yeah..." he gagged. "You're chokin' me, Princess."

"You attacked me."

"I didn't," he said, his fingers twitching as his head spun. "I...woke you up..."

"It... It was a dream?"

"Yeah. You're...you're safe. No one is going to hurt you."

"It was just a dream," she whispered in relief and let up on his throat. She sank to the side and curled up in a ball. "I thought you were... But it wasn't real."

Sokka sat up, rubbing at his throat. He coughed and stared at her dark form beside him in the tent. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched her shoulder. She jumped and then relaxed, letting a soft sound escape her.

When she reached up and took his hand, he thought that she might toss it off of her, but she gripped his fingers instead, holding on tightly as her breathing evened out and the trembling stopped.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

"I just tried to choke you to death and you're asking if I'm okay? You're an idiot."

"So I've been told," he said with a slight smile that faded instantly. "Was it bad?"

"It's always bad," she mumbled so softly he almost missed it over the pounding rain.

He licked his lips, studying her form in the darkness. "If you want to talk about it, I want you to know that I'll listen. To anything. You can trust me."

Azula half-turned to face him and he could see her eyes glittering in the dark for a moment. Then she let go of his hand and rolled back over to face the tent wall.

"No, I can't."

"Azula..."

"Go back to sleep, Sokka. We have a long day ahead of us."

There were a thousand things he wanted to say, and a million more that he was afraid to. He stared at her in the darkness, feeling heart sore, confused, frustrated and sad. He'd thought he was getting through to her, he was sure of it, but now...

Now he didn't know what to do.

She didn't move, but he knew that she was only feigning sleep. He lay there too, listening to the rain as it slowed and then stopped altogether. When the cold gray light of a dreary dawn broke over them, they got up at the same time and prepared to leave the camp.

They didn't speak a single word to one another.