gemsofformenos: "You're deepening this level of understanding between Ozai, Azula and Katara." Heaven knows that they need it. Like you said, it's important for her to NOT feel guilty. "This guilt is there even right now when Azula was able to save both together with Ozai." Yeah, guilt is a weird thing and it can be felt for the oddest reasons. But it is a lot easier to shoulder knowing that both of them made it out alive regardless. "It also helps Azula and Katara to understand themselves and finally to get a grip and understanding of their own feelings and pain and guilt." And this too and it is another very important aspect in being able to move on. It's another stepping stone to dealing with their struggles. "And this new storm offers a first chance to do so." It's a very physical way of being able to confront the past with more control. "but it is a chance to deal with this feeling of having missed a chance to prevent a tragedy." And exactly. It is an opportunity for empowerment. "Azula has never shied away from a fight" She does like to face things head on. "Zhey have learned to losten to each other and to work things out." No couple is perfect of course and it was Azula's first relationship so it had its rocky moments. "But this memory also lines out that Azula still hasn't left him behind." She never truly will leave him nor his memories behind.

Strong chapter again. Take care of you and keep on having fun with your stories

SOKKLAFIL: Indeed she has. She's going to be facing them very head on in this chapter. "By the way, a relationship without quarrels is an inferior relationship in my opinion :)" It's more realistic, that's for sure.

There is a roaring of waves, the rush of the ocean in full force. It mixes with the brutal beating of the rain until the sounds of its water can no longer be distinguished from that of the ocean below it.

There comes a distant binging noise.

Or maybe it is a ping.

It is rhythmic.

Rhythmic as the tides beating against the rocks. There is a pause in their rhythm, the sound of bones cracking and snapping. They are heard by one person only. The waves pull downward and sweep away sand and blood and body.

They sweep and swirl into…

A beep

The sound is a soft beep.

The swaying a palm fronds as the wind rustles them. The sun beats down between them. It burns skin and hurts eyes. The swishing of the fronds is soothing. The only thing that is soothing.

It could also be a blip depending on how muffled and distorted it is.

Sand and small but sharp rocks scrape against soles. Shoes are so worn down that they might as well be discarded. There is the sound of furious rain, buckets upon buckets of it. But there is not a storm cloud in sight. There isn't a single drop of rain, only the sweltering sun and nothing to provide relief from it.

And yet rain can be heard.

Beep. Beep. Beep…

Thunder can still be heard but the sky is still blue. The waves don't stir as they should with thunder in the air. They are quite smooth. But the sun...this time there is no canopy to obscure it. Skin blisters. Soars emerge. The saltwater sores worsen.

Beep. Beep. Beep…

Why are there trees in the ocean?

The storm is back. Thunder, lightning, the sound of rain and wave. A rumble that isn't the thunder nor waves. A sensation of being yanked at and tugged upon. It could be the waves, maybe a shark? Both have vicious pulls. Whatever it is-they are?-it doesn't give up.

The beeping is shriller this time. More continuous.

There is a smell like antiseptic that mixes in with the smells of salt and jungle plant.

There is hunger.

There is pain.

There are images.

So many images and they are all so jumbled.

.oOo.

Azula hadn't anticipated there being anything worse than being on a boat during a storm. Likely because she hadn't tried imagining being in a storm in various types of vehicles, much less a helicopter. A helicopter made for tourist sightseeing no less. She supposes that she sees the logic in it though, they make it to the sailor faster than they would have on a boat.

It is mostly a volunteer effort, emergency personal wouldn't make it there before the sailor and their raft would be ripped to shreds. A life jacket and rescue goggles, equipped with a snorkeling set isn't exactly a comfort. They are designed for survival in an over the water helicopter crash, not to withstand storm waves.

The pilot, she hasn't gotten his name, assures her that he has navigated a storm like this one before. That he is well trained for a situation where the weather suddenly turns sour. It will be she, Ozai, a woman who has done helicopter jumps before, and an off duty coast guard. Evidently, that man is the only reassuring thing.

In the distance she sees her brother, Katara, and Jet. They wait on the shore with varying degrees of anxiety. Her own hasn't settled in, adrenaline has cleared it out to make room for action and reckless determination.

The helicopter hovers above the sailor. She hopes that this sailor will cling onto that raft, she doesn't know how they will find this person if they slip off and into the waves. Azula eyes don't leave the raft until it is time to make the jump. The other woman had spent the flight giving her a run down on how to make said jump, such a brief intro doesn't leave her feeling like a bright beacon of confidence.

She is nervous.

It is a horrid time to admit to herself that she is as afraid of storms as she is thrilled by them. It is one thing to watch them rolling in from a distance, to feel that anticipative charge or energy. To taste lightning on her tongue with the safety of her home in sight.

It is another matter entirely to throw herself into a storm that is well underway. One wreaking havoc on the open ocean.

Azula lets herself drop. For a moment she remembers…

It was a feeling of freedom and relief. Of sorrow and hopelessness melting away before that sense of euphoria is slammed away by a burst of sharp pain on her chin.

There is no pain this time. And this time she plans to fight the waves, to survive them instead of silently begging for them to end her.

She isn't a particularly strong swimmer, but she is a determined one. A determined one who has a startling knowledge about navigating waves like these. She has done it twice before, granted she hadn't put up much of a fight the second time. But if she could do it once, and in a worse storm, she can do it again.

She makes it to the sailor first, having landed herself the closest to him, but the coast guard isn't far behind. And she is thankful for that. She has been struggling to hold herself upright, much less she and the sailor.

It is rather embarrassing to become a second distressed swimmer in need of rescue, but she has provided the sailor with a rather critical breath of air that he wouldn't have gotten to take otherwise, one that she would find out had saved his life. She is the only thing keeping him from going under and disappearing.

But the few seconds before the coast guard approaches are agonizing. She feels a sharp eruption and knows that she has managed to pop her shoulder out of place again in her effort to hold the sailor up. And her legs are incredibly sore to a degree she has never felt, even with years of surfing and sports under her belt. It takes so much effort to keep her head up as well as the sailor's.

For a moment, she forgets that there are two other people with her. For a moment she thinks that she is going to die, that Zuzu and Ozai will be lowering another coffin and mourning another loss.

She feels a strong pull and furious clings to him with an effort more mighty that her popped shoulder should allow. She truly hates the tides. She won't let them have this sailor. And then she sees a woman's face. Her hold is only been broken by the coast guard pulling in the opposite direction, just as it settles in that it wasn't the tides pulling the sailor at all.

She hears the blades of the helicopter as it bends down. A ladder is thrown. They let her up first, she clings hard to the ladder as Ozai pulls it up. She watches the ladder drop twice more.

It is only when the other three are safely in the plane that Ozai wraps a towel around her shivering body. Her hair clings to her forehead and arms. Arms that feel so sore and heavy. Azula's entire body feels so heavy and she is too weak to carry it. It is a struggle to keep herself upright, she doesn't think that she does.

She wakes in her father's arms, helicopter blades slice at the air and throw raindrops across the roof of a hospital. Her father is adamant about being the one to carry her inside. They let him after she moves her legs and good arm.

They check her over, sedate her, and pop her shoulder back into place. This time she has a sling and a bottle of painkillers.

"Your brother is on his way." Ozai puts his phone aside.

Azula nods.

"Jet wants to know if you are alright."

Azula nods. "I am fine." It isn't her own condition that worries her. Sure, she is completely drained, but otherwise she is healthy. She looks over at the bed next to her own. The boy, decidedly he is around as old as she-if not, the same age-is gaunt and frail. His skin is covered in raw and crusty sores, especially on his back. Some of them are infected. His face is so hollow.

The doctors say that he will be fine if they can get control of his dehydration and starvation. They say that his lungs are healthy.

"Lay down, dear." Ozai says. "It's impolite to gawk."

She supposes that he has a point, she wouldn't like to have the sailor looking her over as she slept. She nuzzles her head against her pillow. She can't remember the last time she had been this unbearably sore. Her arms and legs throb, her throat burns.

But it is just as well; she has beat the ocean again. She is beating it two to four. She has lost her mother and Sokka but she has saved Zuko twice, Katara once, and the sailor.

"Let me know when he wakes up?"

Ozai nods. "I will. Now get some rest."

She can't promise that she will, not with the aches and not with her mind racing. But she promises to try.