blueandie: Thank you :D short but sweet. "I miss cuddly Azula" was a fun one as well as having her land another swift kick to his bum. I see her as some one who kicks things when she cries or does really anything to divert people away from the fact that she's crying at all. She remembers a little more than Sokka would like her to, I'll just say that. Thank you again; I feel like in the past I've focused a lot on the symptoms themselves and thought that actually getting her prepped to feel them would be an interesting way to shift things. I feel as though Azula would definitely rather cope with familiar pain than wander into uncharted emotional territory, even if it would help her get better. 'A false sense of security...' Lmao you know me too well.

crapshak50: They're totally trying that's for sure. Azula's still on a bit of a rollercoaster. She does care about his feelings but she's not quite emotionally ready to take on anyone else's problems yet. Unlike Sokka, she wants to sort her own shit out before helping someone else do the same. I do have a plan for the lay down of that actually. It may or may not be what you guys are expecting though.

xP A full-on cuddly Azula is a different fic altogether. I think I may have actually written one of those, but I don't quite remember I've written so many things. I can say with 100% certainty that I have in my head. Lmao the notion of Azula on some drug that makes her super adorable. Though tbh I kind of picture her as an affectionate drunk; like she gets all touchy feely. Seeing as she doesn't display the loving side of her very often it kinda comes out when she's drunk. That's been a headcanon of mind for some time now.

Zuko senses a little something, he just isn't sure what he's sensing. Katara sees it more, because she's familiar with how Sokka acts when he has a crush on someone. I do love hearing your predictions; especially the ones you're right about. It's so satisfying when a reader catches onto the foreshadowing.

Sokka is a big bowl of conflict at the moment. Like I am one of those people who wants to yell at and insult people but also I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings? That's how I see Sokka a bit. So like, sitting on her foot was an accident but he's going to say that it was on purpose to make himself feel badass. And, thanks! Glad you liked it. :D

FireAndIce123: Thank you as well. Yeah, this one was a bit more fluffy than the other chapters have been. It was kinda nice.

The weeks to follow went in and out in routine. The princess had grown very quiet, much more so than usual and slept through most of the days. Often times she would mutter a few words to him before rolling over again. Her sleep was most always punctuated by delusions and plagued by imaginary monsters that she would cry out about in moments when she was half-awake. So, on most days, Sokka would eventually slip away. He had much on his own mind and Azula's constant slumber offered him too much time and quiet to dwell on such matters. But all the same he could never stay away for too long, lest she wake up in one of her fits.

So he began a new painting, this one of a woman sleeping wrapped in elegant sheets. He knew he ought to not paint her again, but he couldn't help it. He thought of painting the shattered vase, but he had a feeling he'd earn an earful for it. On the other hand she'd probably smack him into the next week if she caught him painting her in anything less than a pristine state. He thought she was beautiful, in some sense or another, more so than she'd been in a while. What he found beauty in, he concluded, was her strength—the depiction of her paving the way to a recovery process. Odds were, he wouldn't have the painting finished until after she had detoxed completely. He put his brush down and eyed the woman in the bed.

.oOo.

The first three weeks had been hell for Azula in many ways.

Day three was when she felt the full effects of leaving her Ruby Tears behind. She was more lethargic than she'd ever been. Even in her most depressive moments she had more energy than she had on day three. She pulled herself up, with a great effort. "Sokka?"

The man looked up from a pack he was unloading, "you're finally awake." From the looks of it, he had just gotten back from wherever he was gone.

"Yes." She replied, not certain of how long she would remain so.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

"Hungry." She replied, unaccustomed to the feeling. The tears and cactus juice had always kept her full enough. Without them she was feeling famished and sick.

"What do you want?"

"Food." She snapped. She hadn't meant to demand so sharply.

He pinched the bridge of his nose but Azula could spy the trace of a smile. "Yes, but what kind?" It did her well to know that he was learning to ignore her outbursts.

"I don't care, I just want something to eat." She answered. She wouldn't be surprised to doze off again before her meal arrived. She stared down at shaking, clammy hands. Sleep sounded very good about then, it took away the feverish feelings. She couldn't feel the tremors nor the shakes in her sleep.

"Do you want to come and get it with me, Aang has been asking about you."

"He has?" She asked.

"Yeah, he says he's been a little worried since uh…your little adventure a few days ago." Sokka replied.

Azula considered joining him but couldn't muster up the physical energy to go with her slight burst of enthusiasm. This sent her mood plummeting even lower. She shook her head no, "too tired." She rubbed her eyes, hoping that doing so would shed some grogginess. "You can bring him up with the food." She replied as she burrowed back under the covers.

She hadn't quite fallen asleep but was on the verge of it when Sokka returned with Aang in tow. She picked at her meal as the Avatar talked about his day and what Zu-Zu has been up to. It was mostly mundane chatter to listen to as she ate. But she welcomed the babble, it gave her something else to focus on. Something that wasn't the achiness of her body. She didn't have any stories of her own to offer, not much happened to her in the confines of her bedroom. Every now and again she would look up from her plate and offer a comment or two on his story or his storytelling ability. Aang didn't have a way with words the way Sokka did. Near the end of Aang's tale she shoved her plate aside and lie back down, not quite satisfied but she would deal with it.

"You seem like you're doing better." Aang remarked.

"Not particularly." She sighed. For some time, she listened to he and Sokka converse. From the sound of it, Sokka was in a better mood. But then, apparently that's what she sounded like. Briefly, before shutting her eyes again, she contemplated how troubled he might actually be.

.oOo.

Five days in, Sokka was starting to get a sense of things. Azula was asleep often, for most of the day really, but when she was awake, she was awake. Not so much in that she had heaps of energy but in that she was on such high alert. For what reason, he couldn't place. No, she hadn't much energy at all. In fact, she seemed almost dismal in some impalpable way.

"What's wrong?" He finally asked. He didn't know why he asked, he already had a pretty solid guess.

"Nothing, I don't know." Lately all of her responses have been vague and unclear. She stood up for the first time in two days, stretching her arms out. He wasn't sure that doing so really did anything for her. He watched her walk about the room with no real purpose other than to, perhaps, go through the motions of walking however sluggish the strides might be. He almost feared that she would topple, but she sat down before he could put too much thought into it.

As she usually did upon waking, she had requested something to eat. Lately she'd been doing so more and more. He supposed it made sense though, being as the Ruby Tears had eliminated her appetite before. Though he thought that she ought to venture out of her room so he replied, "I'll get you something if you come downstairs with me."

He almost gave in, the look of defeat in her eyes was so powerful. She already seemed resigned to that she might not get anything to eat after all. Sokka decided that, one way or another, she was going to get a change of scenery. She was going to talk to people besides himself. He paused, wondering if he really wanted that—as things were, he had her to himself again. She was relying on him. The thought unsettled him, he had to get rid of those thoughts. As if to prove something to himself, he scooped her into his arms, deciding that he'd just have to carry her if she wouldn't walk herself. He didn't expect her to get so angry. As soon as she was in his arms something vicious flickered in her eyes. "Oh, I get it." She muttered.

"You get what?" Sokka sputtered, still clutching the enraged woman tightly. He considered turning around and carrying her back to her room, or at least pausing for a moment.

"You think I'm lazy don't you, that's why you're carrying me?" She accused.

"N-no! I'm carrying you because you didn't want to get up, remember." The explanation only seemed to kindle her temper more. So he tried again, "do you want me to put you down and let you walk?" He didn't wait for an answer before setting her down. She folded her arms over her chest, looking as though she wanted to be carried again. It would seem that she didn't want the conflict to be so obvious and walked the rest of the way to the dining room. He often had to stop and wait for her to catch up with him, she seemed to linger further behind every time he looked back.

Sokka wanted to say it was a mistake to force her out of her room. Though after she had been at the table for a while, fed and having conversed with the gang, she seemed to be in better spirits if only a little. It did him good to know that his friends were getting used to her, even if she only emerged every once in a while. He no longer felt guilty or like he was being judged for associating with the princess. He saw her reach for one final handful of cherries and nibble on them as she told Katara of a dream she had some nights before. One that consisted of bathing in fire, but without the burns and anguish. She described it in such brilliant detail, he almost envied how vivid her dreams must be.

"Hey, dunderhead, pay attention to me!" Toph hollered and tossed a cherry at him. It bounced off of his head and rolled towards Azula. He watched her pick it up, inspect it, conclude that it was safe, and pop it into her mouth. "That's not paying attention!"

"It is too." Sokka rolled his eyes.

"That's not paying attention to me." Toph clarified.

He endured Toph's crass sense of humor and friendly abuse for as long as Azula wished to be with the gang. He figured that some ill-placed jokes from Toph were well worth letting the firebender get comfortable with his friends. It would make things easier for the both of them in the long run.

Azula engaged in conversation longer than he thought she would, but he could see her starting to put a noteworthy effort into keeping her eyes open. So he decided that it was time to get her back in bed before she spent all of the energy that she didn't actually have. It took considerable coaxing to get her on her feet again. He could see her growing sleepier still, right before his eyes. She flexed her fingers for a moment, letting fire burst in her palm just to feel the heat. Or so he thought. In the days to follow he would come to find out that the action helped soothe her. More so, it lulled her to sleep.

.oOo.

The week closed with her mood dipping further. It caught her off guard. She tried with everything she had to convince Sokka…to convince herself that she was just tired. But it wasn't so, Azula knew it very well, she recognized the feeling. The horrible numbness. The melancholy that exhausted her more than she was already.

She rubbed her hands over her face and through tangles of hair. Hair that fell to her shoulders and messy tangles. A week or so ago she might have been thrilled to run a comb through it, especially since it seemed to feel a little silkier again. And yet she couldn't seem to muster up the elation she should have felt. She swore she was over it. She swore that she was beginning to feel secure again.

So why?

Why did she feel so dreadful again? She was reaching a lower sort of low.

Azula wrapped her arms around herself, she was alone again. She wondered when Sokka had left, he wasn't there when she woke up the first time, when the sun was just above the horizon. She thought that he might have gone for breakfast and that she'd wake up to a pancake and a moon peach or two like usual. But she woke up a second time, hours later and he still wasn't there. She told herself that he stopped by and that she simply missed him. But it happened a third and fourth time and she decided that he must be appalled by her for some reason or another. She was well beyond being able to deduce why. So she dropped back to the mattress and bit her cheek in a feeble attempt to not cry.

She just didn't understand why she was feeling so awful and that in itself conjured more tears. If she hadn't completely drained herself crying…

If she had stayed awake a few minutes longer, she might have heard Sokka enter the room and sling his bag to the ground with an exasperated sigh. She would have seen it in his posture that it had been a long day and that he was glad to be back in her room.

.oOo.

The middle of the week was no better. In fact, her head throbbed with all the intensity of a hangover but without the euphoric pleasure of drinking. Azula clenched her teeth, caught up in another crippling wave of nausea. The same stomach reeling sensation that was always accompanied by a sheen of cold sweat. She was feeling much iller than ever and everything, even the simplest of things were somehow so patronizing to her. Such things like Sokka offering her a cool, wet, rag. She snapped at him to get it away, the drips on her forehead aggravated her. Her own voice annoyed her, as the volume of it sent her head pounding harder.

Sokka withdrew the rag and softly spoke, "I was going to take a bath, did you want to get one first." When he offered her a bite of his sticky bun, she realized that it was already midafternoon. For some reason, Sokka only ate sticky buns in the afternoon. It peeked her curiosity but she kept forgetting to ask.

Snatching the treat with a grumpy pout she grumbled, "what are you trying to tell me?"

Sokka scrunched his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Is it that obvious that I need one?" She knew she had backed him into a corner.

She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes. He was trying to find a way to put things lightly. She didn't need him to remind her, she knew all too well that she was letting herself slip again. That she was beginning to neglect herself once more. At first it was simply because she had been too tired—at that point she felt awful for it and wanted Sokka to carry her to the bathroom, but she didn't have it in her to ask. Now, she simply didn't care…didn't feel like it.

"It's just that you haven't taken one in a while…"

"What gave it away?" Azula hissed, daring him to give her the answer.

Sokka rubbed his head. "Well, I've been with you for just under two weeks and I may have forgotten to take one too." She had to admire his clever diplomacy.

"At least get dressed." He entered her close before she could protest and pulled out her dragon tunic. "I always thought that this one looked nice on you. But this one would look good too." He held up a simple robe of deep blue. Embroidered into the silk were vivid teal streaks of lightning and equally vibrant bursts of blue flame.

She saw around it, this was his sugar-coated way of nagging her. Of telling her to stop being so lazy and start upkeeping herself. Azula wouldn't have it she was ready to go off on him, but all the same she just didn't have the motivation. Instead she folded her arms and muttered, "how about you get dressed."

Sokka smiled weakly. "That was the plan." And then, "I will if you will." He dropped the silks into her lap and headed for the door. "I really think that you should come with me, I'll…"

He really was out to get her today. She was fed up with it, he'd only given her two demands but she was already fed up with it. He would probably insist that she go downstairs next and then the rest of the group could have a go at her. But she wouldn't let him get her there. She was staying right where she was, wearing just what she was. Eventually he conceded and with a slight frown, Sokka stepped out—presumably to take his bath.

Alone with her thoughts again, Azula was left to dwell on it. The more she thought about it, the less antagonizing he seemed until she concluded that he meant no harm at all. Once again she had to ask herself what was wrong with her. Faintly she wished she had the Ruby Tears to calm her nerves.

She pushed the notion away as quickly as she could. As she lie there on her side her mind wandered. Wandered so far in fact that she began thinking of things she hadn't in a while; Chan's hand on her cheek, Borem's snide smiles, Yoona's offensive butchering of all things grammatical—but it was always so bright and cheerful, Wire's ridiculous clumsiness, and even Mama Mozi and her stupid fucking dead grass. She tried so very hard to not think of Minho. Of anything about him. But once that floodgate was open, it was overflowing. His smile, his sense of adventure, his wide brown eyes, his dirty black hair—the way it fell to his ears in the back but in the front cascaded past his chest. He had kept that portion in messy dreads. And that nickname, the way it always rolled off of his tongue.

She realized that she might have loved him.

And she was in tears again.

.oOo.

Sokka re-entered the room with his hair dripping and a towel slung over his chiseled shoulders. Azula didn't seem to notice his entry. He quietly took his seat and watched her weep into her pillow. He raked his fingers through his hairline, he really needed to be more careful with her. Her mind was in such a delicate state. He hadn't meant for it but it seemed like he had successfully made her cry again. He thought of rubbing her back, Zuko noted that doing so always worked for him and that it always had since she was a little girl. He also thought of running his fingers through her hair, not only had that comforted her the last time, but he kind of wanted to toy with her longer locks. He thought better of it though, if this was anything like the last time he offended her, it was better to keep his distance.

From afar he observed the princess. In some regards she looked better; Though her skin was still patchy and dry, she wasn't so pale and her hair was more lustrous. She looked terribly worn-out but her face wasn't so hollow anymore. In only a few week's time she had changed so much.

And he was still the same old Sokka…

He heard the bed creak. Azula was sitting up and silently beckoning him over. She brushed away a few tears with the back of her sleeve. Sokka didn't know what to expect when he went over to her. Part of him thought that she might smack him a good one for hurting her feelings again. Instead she pulled him into a hug and buried her face in his chest. She was no longer crying but she was breathing heavily, the last hiccupped visages of having done so. He didn't do anything in response, he didn't know if she wanted him to. Finally. after some time he chanced patting her softly on the back.

"It'll be okay." He whispered, the words he wanted to hear. "You're going to be okay."