90% Sure that I responded to the review over on Ao3 so I'll just continue that conversation over there!

All of her love has turned to hatred. It does so before she can stop it. And how easy it is to just let it happen. It was always there, that part of her. It was just waiting for an excuse to come back to the surface. And Agni has it been given a damn good one. They thought that she was a monster before…

Oh they haven't seen anything yet.

They haven't…

For a long time she doesn't eat. She barely sleep. Hatred and rage is sustenance enough. It is the only thing that keeps her alive and moving. People talk to her, they are kind to her. She resents it. She hates their pity, the way they look at her.

She hates their hushed tones and speculative whispers as she walks by. "She's from Wujing, didn't the whole village get slaughtered?" "The poor woman." "I heard that they found her covered in blood, holding her dead child." "She was going to have a baby, wasn't she?"

She leaves the infirmary as little as possible and when she does she goes in the night. In the night when she doesn't have to listen to their recounts of what she has gone through. Where she doesn't have to see their sympathetic stares.

And she still hurts. All over. Her head, her body, mostly her heart. Every now and then she can still feel a phantom kicking. When she does it is unbearable. When she does she loses herself entirely.

The whispering only grew worse and the pitying only doubled when her mind strayed from her more or less completely. When she slipped so far away that the phantom kicks became real. So far away that she'd rub her hand over her baby bump as though it weren't vacant. For a moment, one cruel and blissful moment she had tricked herself into thinking that nothing had changed. That Hajime had brought her to the place for it's more advanced medical practices.

Her due date had come to pass and her spell of disconnect with it. Since then they talk to her like a child, like she is fragile. Maybe she is fragile. She cries herself to sleep at night, the tears aren't entirely born of grief, they are the product of a simmering hatred that has no other outlet. No other outlet short of setting everything in her path ablaze. But she can't do that, not until she slowly burns the soldiers away, inch by incensing inch. She'll let them institutionalize her after that.

She'll let them do whatever they want to her after that.

For the time she curls in on herself, clutching her hollow middle. The swell of her tummy is a cruel imitation and brutal reminder. And according to her doctors she is stuck with it for at least another five weeks.

On better days she gets visitors; well meaning strangers who bring her meals and company. She tries not to be cold but she can't afford anything other than apathy. She won't get close to anyone.

Never again.

That week she learns that she has her limits. She has things that she simply can't recover from. That hope and optimism are complete bullshit at best and completely terrifying at worst.

.oOo.

Azula holds the badgermole to her chest, the stone presses into her palm. Sokka observes her from across the bed as he arranges a few spools, needles, thimbles, and a pair of scissors. The thimbles are mostly for show, he doesn't know how to use them effectively. He supposes that he'll just take it like a man if he jabs his thumb with one of the needles.

"So, what are we sewing?"

Azula holds up the badgermole. "I want to put the stone inside of it."

"Like a heart?" He asks.

She shrugs, "something like that, I suppose."

"Alright, I think that we can manage that." He smiles, "we'll have to cut him open and then sew him back up. Or is it a girl badger-mole."

Azula shrugs. "Both, I guess. Whichever Atsu was feeling for that day." She looks off for a moment. "When Caihong got a hold of it, it was always a girl badger-mole."

Sokka laughs. "That sounds about right. Do you actually want to patch it up or do you just want to put the stone in and close the cut again?"

"I want to patch it up." She replies to his surprise. She never struck him as the sewing sort. But he supposes that it takes more care to sew on a patch than it does to simply stitch in a straight line. Decidedly, her healing process is bizarre. But it sure beats several of the alternatives that he can think up. "Okay, so first thread the needle…"

She holds up a needle that has already been threaded.

"Guess that's common sense, huh?"

She nods.

"Alright, well, you should probably cut it open and put the stone in."

"I want to try it on something else first, I don't want to ruin this it's…it's the…"

"I know what it is." Sokka smiles sympathetically. "We'll make sure that your sewing skills are perfect before we start on that."

And there's that smile. The one that he was hoping to see again. Even if it is touched by sadness it is there. Maybe if he keeps at it, that sadness will leave entirely.

.oOo.

He is refreshingly patient with her, granted she picks up on it rather fast. Sewing, she comes to find, takes precise movements and careful hands. She is good with that. She finds that she rather enjoys sewing. It is a peasant's work and her father would have so many things to say if he found her making a hobby of it. She wishes that she could shake his voice and repremiends from her mind. But they are always there, just as Hajime, Atsu, Juro, and all of them claw at her heart.

She ties the last knot and severs the thread. She holds her freshly stitched badger-mole up. "I'm finished."

Sokka smiles. "Your lines are a lot less crooked than mine."

Azula nods, "you couldn't even put fruit on a pancake in a straight line."

"Because I was going for a curved line!" Sokka declares.

"And you ended up with a squiggly one." She quirks a brow and thoughtlessly hugs the badger-mole to her chest.

"That was the best pancake that you ever tasted and you know it!"

Her chest tightens some and her belly flutters. It has been so long since she has had a conversation like this. Something mundane and wholly pointless. She misses effortless small talk. And yet she finds herself alarmed. She is getting too close.

She is getting too close and she isn't sure that she wants to stop herself. Because, Agni, this beats the nagging and deeply rooted sorrow. It is so much less heavy and oppressive than clinging onto resentment.

But she knows how it will end if she allows herself to get too close to Sokka. Or Mai, or TyLee, or anyone. Anyone save for Zuko, who is terribly reisaliant and hard to get rid of. She supposes that Zuzu is her safest bet for finding affection.

"Seriously, though," Sokka starts, "you're really good at sewing, I can tell that you put a lot of care into that."

"I put care into everything I do, Sokka. If you aren't going to put effort into something, why bother with it?" If she isn't going to put effort into her friendships why should she bother with them? She swallows. What is the point of a journey to a new kingdom if the lessons all go to waste?

"Can I see it?"

She hands the stuffed badger-mole to Sokka. He holds it only for a second or two before she beckons for him to hand it back. He doesn't hesitate or beg for more time, it is in her hands as soon as she reaches for it.

She clears her throat. "Thank you. For teaching me to sew."

"Yeah, it wasn't a problem at all. I had a nice time."

She did too.

She usually does when Sokka is involved.

It is such a simple stupid thing. They haven't even left the house and they had, had a good time. She recognizes the feeling.

She is terrified of the feeling but she knows damn well that she can't exponge it.

Azula lays back and rests the badger-mole on her chest.

"Maybe we can do it again some time?"

"Or something like it." She replies. She tells herself that it is perfectly fine to have friends. That it is perfectly fine to seek someone to confide in and have nice evenings with. It doesn't have to be anything more.

It doesn't have to be, but Agni she is well aware of what she wants. What she wants and fears all the same.