Hello fanfiction readers! Thank you so much for your patience. I was ready to publish this fiction a while ago, but then Mother Nature planned a snow storm and then I lost the internet. Well it gave me some time to do some grammatical touch-ups and additions to this chapter and the previous ones.

This chapter was the hardest for me to write because it was so personal.

I would like to specially thank Passionworks for infusing my brain with new ideas, different perspectives and constructive criticism, in addition to honoring me by writing my fanfic as a writing exercise. To all of the readers who made me a favorite, made a story alert, or visited my page; thank you so much.

I promise the next upcoming chapters will be more upbeat so hang in there. Don't be intimidated by the word count.

I do not own ATLA but I do own my vivid dreams

Book 4: Air: Exodus

Chapter 2

SWING CREAK SLAM.

The door opens regurgitating a form rejected by society.

MARCH STOMP MARCH.

Guards walk the hall to keep law and order in the prison and within themselves. They are trying not to be consumed by the very madness that they protect.

DRIP DROP DRIP.

The pipes wear their sludge beard as the water trickles on the cold stone ground.

MOAN GROAN MOURNS.

Torch lights flicker against the hall. The cavernous sounds of the inmates reverberate. Bowls of crusted and molded grain greet them outside their doors.

"FIRE BURNS IT ALL…ASHES TO ASHES…CONSUME… COMBUST...BLACK EYES REMAIN," the man echoes his compulsion, as he laughs madly, trying to start a fire.

BOOM…CLANG… BANG… CLANK.

The man's head hits the door to sooth the voices inside his crowded mind.

SHRIEKS...SHOUT…SCREAM…CRY.

The woman writhes in agony to chase away the trauma that plagues her.

BLOOD…. DEATH… LIFE

Another casualty consumed by insanity, their flesh rotting in the cell, a maggot's feast.

There is hope for one of the fortunate few, who is released, deemed fit, worthy of another chance, breathing in fresh air for the first time. Their future is lit brightly. Their path is narrow, uphill, twist and turns. It is now the choice of the gods, whom this rehabilitated soul instills his faith in, to direct him to normalcy.

Within one cell lays a small broken figure. The fringes of her mind began to unravel thread by thread, as she stirs on an unforgiving cot. Her muscles plead for sustenance. Her eyes are heavy from exhaustion. Her hair is cut just below her ear, turning off-black and brittle. Her throat and mouth are like rocks and sand. Her lips are pealing and chapped. The needles had punctured her arms bruising her sun deprived skin. Cuffs and heavy shackles made their red mark on her wrist. She has fresh bandages on her forearm. She wears an all-white gown that had been aged from the accumulation of dirt. Her once beautiful frame, has now been abducted by an emaciated, malnourished, monster.

All the walls are slick, icy and solid. Her lungs exhaled heavily to awake to a nightmare. Her eyes danced around her surroundings. Her small trembling hand, attempted to lift up her body, but she was too weak. She panted hefty breaths. Metal bars indicate imprisonment. How did she come to be here?

It all came flooding back. Failure was the theme of her incarceration. The flashback came," Mother she was there for my coronation, but stupid Zuzu along with that water peasant ruined it. Mother will never see me now." She thought.

"Father," she continued," You believed in me. Please forgive me. You have plans for me. You won't let me rot in here. Any day your men will come and get me. We can still conquer the earth. Please don't leave me. You're all I have."

The sound of the steel door opening seemed distant. Azula squinted as a blurry figure came toward her. It gently touched her hair that was breaking. The soft hand sat her up and brought a glass of orange like liquid to her mouth. Azula drank slowly; her throat rejoiced at the hydration. She tried to mouth words, but the feminine hand hushed her and laid her on the pillow. Azula watch the figure leave. Azula smirked and turned over on her cot and pull the covers onto her. She closed her eyes tight. "Thank you Momma," she whispered.

It would be weeks before Azula recovered. She was fully cognitive now and reprimanded herself for even thinking about her mother in a pleasant manner. Azula was grateful that she could barely speak lest she reveal any weaknesses. One thought did still linger in her mind; Father. She hoped he had another plan for her escape. Prison was not the place for a princess. The accommodations were less than stellar for even an elephant-rat. Azula finally found the strength to stand up. She was antsy and pacing the floor. She wanted out. Suddenly, the door to her cell swung open. Two towering armored males took hold of her wrist and slapped cuffs on. They pushed and shoved her along the barely lit halls. A creeping feeling shivered up her spine. Somehow, this place didn't seem right.

The large men sat her in a chair and handcuffed her to the large titanium table. In front of her was an old man in glasses with parchment paper, pen and an inkwell. Her brows furrowed in confusion. Was this man apart of the law? Or was he a man sent by her father? "I am Dr. Jung Loa do you remember our previous sessions?"

'Previous sessions?' As far as Azula was concerned she never met this man in her life. "Do you know why you are here?" Azula scratched at the indentations on her wrist.

Here? The pieces began to come together. Her eyes stretched in realization, the unusual parchment paper, the doctor, the mentioning of previous session, the eerie feeling of madness. It was all obvious to her. She sat in utter astonishment.

"Do you know where you are?" Azula shook her head, yes. She was in the Crescent Island Sanitarium.

"Very good can you tell me your name?"

She could barely get a hold of herself. She managed to say her name quietly, "Azula"

"Good, Azula do you know how long you have been here?"

Was this man joking? She didn't want to answer any questions at the moment, when she had so many unanswered ones herself. She shrugged and guessed "Three months, I suppose."

"Hmm," said Dr. Jung Loa dipping into an inkwell.

"What are you writing!" barked Azula.

Dr. Jung Loa flinched at Azula's voice. Even at her weakest point she can sound intimidating. Her patience was wearing thin. The old man took off his spectacles and looked at her seriously. He went to speak, but interrupted himself. Azula knew then; all was not well. He breathed deeply and looked into Azula's eyes calmly. "You have had many breaks with reality. It seems the treatment is working well. However, there is some concern that you have no memory of being in this facility for fifteen months."

Azula didn't know why she felt an unexpected calmness overcome her. She and Dr. Jung Loa stared at each other as if it were a contest. Azula rose up from the table quietly. When Dr. Jung Loa looked Azula's chains loosened. "FIFTEEN MONTHS!" She roared.

Azula leaped over the desk and began choking Dr. Jung Loa. Azula was seething in anger. Her grip was getting tighter. She wanted this man to die. He struggled to remove her hands from his neck. He managed to push her away and yelled, "Guards!"

Two strong men came barging in the door. They grabbed Azula and held her down firmly. She struggled to get up, but was only hurting herself. Suddenly, she felt something sharp stab her flesh. She felt like her insides were boiling. Then it all went black.

Azula awoke in her cell lying in a puddle of her own drool. She wiped her face with her palm. Azula couldn't believe she lost an entire year of her life. It was inconceivable that time had passed so quickly. The irony wasn't lost on Azula, when she realized that she was confined to the same cells, she sent traitors and war prisoners. Her feelings were beyond words. Her belly became warm and the base of her spine was hot. She stood firm breathing in deeply and thrust her hand out like an archer. Nothing became of this exercise. Azula began the same set again, followed with a very weak foot kick. Azula stumbled, wobbled and eventually fell to the ground. She banged her hands onto the granite floor as her knuckles cracked and bled. "Father will be here. I will have my revenge!" she declared.

Another two months had passed and it became obvious that her father wasn't coming to free her. He would never keep his little girl waiting for so long. Something must have happened. Azula was living her worst nightmare, she had no family, no allies; her enemies must have deemed her unworthy at this point, worst of all she couldn't firebend. She was an imperfect failure. Azula balled herself up in a corner rocking back and forth.

The sun went down and the night air began to blow inside of the cell. A plate of food splattered on the granite tiles. Azula wouldn't dare humiliate herself, even though her stomach grumbled. She refused to eat food off the floor. Of what use was sustenance to someone who felt dead? She couldn't sleep. The sounds of the asylum were sending her berserk. Azula covered her ears in vain. She couldn't take this anymore! She succumbed to the environment and screeched out of frustration.

Without warning, the two guards entered. Azula looked up at them. They had locked the door tightly behind. "My, my how the mighty have fallen. It looks like the princess isn't eating Huang" he mocked.

"Well we can't very well let her starve Nianzu." With that statement, the taller guard gripped her arms tightly. Azula flayed her legs about trying to kick the men, but there armor was too strong or maybe she was too weak. Huang picked up the bowl of grain and mushed it into Azula's face. They laughed heartily. Azula wiped her face; this couldn't be happening now.

Huang then spat at Azula's feet, "This is how you repay us! We had a perfect life. All you had to do was win an Agni Kai to be Firelord, but you let that water peasant win! Now look at you Phoenix King Whore!" He gave her a firm slap across her face.

That was all Azula could stand. She wasn't going to let this imbecile get away insulting her and her father. Azula balled up fist while the sweat dripped down her forehead, like the tears from her eyes.

"Pathetic whore, now you weep! At least your father fought bravely before he was imprisoned. You are worthless."

Azula rose up from where she was sitting and went to attack. Out of nowhere, one of the men hit her in a trigger point on her back. She recognized that maneuver; it was chi blocking. She couldn't move her arms and growled in protest. Huang pulled her short hair close to his lips. "Guess who taught me that move?" he pushed her to the ground and laughed.

Her limbs felt useless as she tried to fight. Nianzu pressed his foot on her face. "No one will save you now. It was up to you to keep Sozin's dream alive of Fire Nation dominance. Should have known this job didn't belong to a child, especially a girl"

"May the tides of your failure, throw you overboard." With that last statement they exited.

The words of the guards echoed, as she lay still on the ground.

She saw herself crowned Firelord celebrating her sixteenth birthday atop the throne. She would build an army of ruthless soldiers, who would tear apart the land. She held onto that thought as the heat within her belly began to stir. She tried to force flames from her hand once again, nothing. Azula felt crippled and helpless. She wasn't satisfied being a normal girl: the consummate perfectionist accepted nothing more or less. All Azula knew is that she couldn't stand being in this place. She was sane enough to know she didn't belong here. Azula needed answers about the missing year of her life and about her father. But who would so willingly divulge that information?

Her thoughts of self-pity were interrupted by the two guards. Huang and Nianzu busted down the door. They bound her wrist while dragging her outside the room. She quickly passed the hall of taunting prisoners. She was taken to an empty room and forcibly sat in a chair and secured her chains.

Across the table was a man in royal scarlet robes with gold trim. The crown atop his head was a single crest yellow flame. His skin was smooth, with the exception of an old burn mark that stretched across the left side of his face. He had been carrying a confidence she never thought she would see in him. Her eyes fixed firmly on his expression. The flame of the torch was the only sound in the room. Zuko slid several documents to Azula. The cover page read, 'Diplomatic Immunity.' Azula didn't know what to do or say: this was truly shocking.

"When father banished and scarred me, I thought that it was the end of my life. Spending all that time at sea, assessing my friends and enemies gave me a new perspective. Now I realized I needed that to grow. It put me in line with my destiny to become Firelord. I fought many a people to give you this opportunity, but I believe it's what you deserve."

"I've arranged for you to live in a remote earth kingdom village. To ensure your protection I have a custodian, who is accustomed to dealing with refugees and war prisoners; her name is Ming-Na. She will in turn have you stay with a benefactor, who will teach life skills and because of your royal standing the benefactor will have two protection officers. It is now up to you to take these offers."

Azula looked at Zuko and grinned. "Well Zuzu that practical joke managed to cheer me up," her face then turned serious, "What you have so eloquently neglected to mention was why I can't remember an entire year of my life?"

"I'm sorry: I don't know the answer." he stated matter of fact.

"You still insist upon playing the role of the sentimentalist. Clearly you're insulting my intelligence. This is reparations for everything I've ever done to you. Congratulations, I'm a lowly imprisoned peasant with stubby nails and resembling Uncle. The only reason I can imagine you setting me free is so your hands won't be soiled with my crimson stain."

Zuko sat back in his chair unfazed by her comment. She wasn't expecting that gesture. "You and father think the same way. Is it so difficult for you to believe that I don't want anything from you? I only want you to live a better life. "

"How noble," She was becoming bored with his kindness and moved the subject to something that she knows would bother Zuko. "What happened to father? Did the Avatar kill him?"

"No, Aang took away his firebending. He now is imprisoned."

Azula was taken aback she never heard of abstracting someone's bending ability. It was clear: Zuko had laid all his plans out very carefully. Azula felt like a miniscule, unimportant bug on his shoulder. She tried for one last jab at Zuko's ego. She noticed the gold band on his finger. "I see you're married to Mai now. Your union will only be in turmoil. Mai will always be second so long as mother is still alive."

The veins in Zuko's right eye twitched. She had struck a nerve. He rose up from the table and turned his back toward her, hanging his head. "I will be in town for three months. The offer still stands."

Azula smirked at her brother finally adding, "Well played Zuzu."

Zuko signaled the guards to take her away. Azula put up a wall of cockiness, when actuality she was more afraid than she had ever been in her life. The fate that her brother set up for her was worse than death. Zuko would have control over her, which was uncomfortable to say the least. What other choices did a disgraced princess have?

For a moment, she wondered if it was foolish to refuse her brother. Was it better to be a refugee, where the freedom is the knowledge, that there is a chance you might be killed? Or should she stay within the confines and ironic safety of the cell? She drugged herself to the cot in the room and laid her head on the pillow. Tonight wasn't a good night to make this decision.

The maddening cries of the asylum did little to help her sleep. No matter how much she covered her ears; the noise just wouldn't go away. Azula was frustrated with all of this going on. Then, the metal door opened. A woman entered: she stretched wild eyes staring at Azula, "How did you get in here?" Azula queried.

"You kill them all; my blood is on your hands!"

Azula rolled her eyes. "Be a good little maniac and go back to your cell!"

The young woman took a makeshift blade made of glass and pointed it at Azula. "Blood on your hands!" she shouted.

"How did you get that thing?" said the now terrified Azula.

"BLOOD!" she screamed laughing crazily. The young woman took the blade to her neck. In front of Azula, she slowly began move to her left ear puncturing her throat. Azula ran to the woman trying to pry the blade from her. Despite the wrestling and coaxing; it was too late.

Azula became numb. It seemed fitting, out of all the suffering she caused under her command, she never shed blood. She sat on the floor, holding the woman, as the vein in her neck expelled its source of life. Azula's white gown was drenched in bodily fluid. Her mouth began to form words as she blankly stared in the distance

The next few hours became a blur. All she remembers is the stiffness of the woman's flesh and the vacancy of the young woman eyes. Azula was immovable and withdrawn. There was only one choice. Tears came streaming down her face like small rivers. She hugged her knees. Only the rocking of her body soothed her.

It had been two months and twenty-eight days since her brother offered her asylum. Azula was never fond of procrastination, yet a decision as big as this required a lot of food for thought. She examined every word he said, explored his body language, but she found no fault. She weighed what she had to lose or gain, the events that happened during her stay. She was floundering. She hadn't a plan and no one to turn to. What she couldn't figure out was why Zuko was helping her. At this point, she didn't care; she wanted to be free of this place. The longer she stayed, the more anxious she became. The daylight had peaked through her window with a feeling of beauty. She reached her hand outside the tiny top bar window as it kissed her hand. She balled up her fist and knew what she had to do. Azula never took unnecessary chances or gambles. Though she always relied on the advice of others, the final decisions solely belong to her. One of the newer guards looked in on her as if reading her mind. She requested audience with her brother. The man shook his head and opened the door. When she departed her cell, a heavy weight of uncertainty weighed on her shoulders and her lungs filled with anxiety. The door closed behind her with a resonating THUD.

She breathed deeply: this was a new chapter in her life; her exodus.