Hello everybody. I am extremely sorry for the long update. I had a lot of things on my plate these past few months. Firstly, I had an Agriculture speech contest that I had to participate in for my school's FFA chapter. I received 1st place in chapter division, and 4th place and district division. Then, I had millions of other Fan Fiction stories that needed to be updated. After that, my family and I flew down to Florida to audition for acting talent agencies who were looking for some new faces. I had two companies who were really interested in having me sign with them, and they called me back. One agency is based out in California; the other is in New York. We haven't sign with anyone yet due to legalities and fine reading, but as soon as we do, I'll officially have an agent.

Now, that the dust has settled, and everything extreme has died down, I have time to type out the newest chapter of "Method to the Madness." So, without further ado, here it is.

Mailto was breathing heavily outside the door. His heart would not stop racing. His nerves were ramming themselves inside his hands, causing his fingers to twitch erratically, and his palms to sweat. He was completely overwrought with worriment and fear. He could barely stand upright. When he first received the orders from Zuko, he thought it was nothing more than just a cruel joke; payback for what he did to the Firelord's sister long ago. Now, he realized, it was not a joke, but it was still payback.

Tomorrow night, was his and Tera's wedding night. And while he was filled with happiness about the fact he was marrying someone that he truly cared for, he almost wanted to back out immediately when Zuko gave him the new orders today. It was an order that figuratively destroyed everything he knew about the universe. It shook him to his core, and made him pale immediately.

Mailto had to tell Azula, that treatment was over, and he was marrying Tera.

Holy shit.

Mailto pulled his hand off the door, turned around, and placed his hands on his knees as he thought he was for sure, going to vomit. The tension was unbearable. This was something that the doctor defiantly did not want to do. Usually, when he was done treating a patient, whether the outcome was good or bad, it ended with a handshake and solemn goodbyes. He, by and large, never had to tell that patient he was getting married, nor was that patient an evil, crazy, women he had a one night stand with. How would Azula react? He knew that she would not be amused by the news. She might even kill him on the spot! He was utterly frightened.

But, he had to face up to the fact, that Zuko gave this crazy command, and orders are orders. Besides, Azula would eventually find out through word of mouth that he got married to Tera. His mentality, along with Zuko's, Aang's, Sokka's and the rest of the gang's mentality on the situation, was that it was better to tell her now and get it over with; do it immediately. It's just like pulling out a thorn.

So, rising to his feet, his chest swelled with pride. His fear was replaced not by bravery, but by faith; faith that no matter what happens, he will not be harmed; (although his faith was filled with doubts). He gripped the key tightly, and turned it. Immediately afterwards, he pushed the door and it swung open violently.

Then, he stared into the room; eyes widen with amazement and confusion.

He knew that Tuesdays were usually her art days, and he knew that she had somewhat of a hobby, but he had no clue that she was this talented; nor that she was this fascinated by painting. She stood behind a giant canvass. The only thing that showed above the canvass was her daunting, horrifying amber eyes, which contain a tremendous amount of focus as she stared into the abyss that was her art. She only looked up for a brief second to acknowledge that Mailto entered the room. She gave a quick smile, (which was very very rare), and then in a split second, she was back to her painting.

Mailto was awestruck by the how well she could paint. She was gifted! Behind her were two wonderfully, masterfully, crafted paintings of two tribal Waterbenders. One was a male warrior holding a boomerang, and the other was a very beautiful woman using a water whip striking someone off canvass. As Mailto studied the paintings, he had his mouth gaped open in awe. Then, his mouth clamped shut in fear as he noticed something very eerie and creepy.

The two paintings looked exactly like Katarra and Sokka.

Noticing that there seemed to be a period of lengthy silence, Mailto decided it was best to speak up. Coughing to grab Azula's attention, he began to speak when her eyes darted at him in a critique manner.

"Well, it looks like the creativity is flowing today." Mailto stated cheerily.

"Yeah," Azula replied in a monotone; her attention was more focused on her painting, and not on the quality and quantity of her voice. Then, she pointed to the two portraits behind her, "I just finished doing a painstakingly portrait of two water tribe members."

Mailto suddenly felt as if he had to point out the obvious. The disturbing atmosphere created by the two paintings left him feeling awkward and uneasy. "Um…..they look a lot like Katarra and Sokka."

Suddenly, Azula got a strange look in her eyes. It was almost as if she were confused by Mailto's statement. She placed the brush on the canvass board, and turned around to study the paintings in an intense manner. It seemed as if though, she had no idea that the paintings looked so familiar. She analyzed them like a student of meditation analyzes their instructor; with a sense of awe, and curiosity.

Then turning around, she shrugged her shoulders. "Coincidence," Azula decided immediately with a faint sense of humor and a smile. Then as her attention focused back on the painting, a sense of anxiety seemed to project itself in her work manner-like voice. She spoke fast and her words contained ice-piercing syllables. "I'm running out of supplies though," she stated as the brush furiously went along the canvass. Then, looking directly at Mailto, she said intensely, "I need more paint." Then she waved her hand off to the side as if she was direct Mailto to achieve her task like a butler.

Somewhat offended by the manner in which Azula asked for paint, Mailto replied with calm and soothing, yet offended tone, "I don't think the hospital has enough room in their budget for that. Not with these cut backs."

"Hmh," Azula hummed in agreement. "It's becoming a trend. Food's getting worst too." Azula acknowledged with no emotion in her voice; all attention was pointed directly at her canvass. Then, she asked out of curiosity, "Just how bad is the finical situation at Republic city hospital?"

"Well, it's not good." Mailto responded with a sense of dismay and depression in his voice. "For starters, the cost for caring for each individual patient isn't cheap; to say the least. Also, you got to admit that your presence here has caused some of our investors to run away in terror."

"I tend to do that to people," Azula replied with a wide smile of pride.

"Add that to the fact that your brother has had a strong grip on our mental-healing practices," Mailto continued, "It's best to say that things are not going well." Then, letting out one last sigh of Anxiety, he broke the first part of the news to Azula in a calm voice. "But I wouldn't worry about it too much. Our sessions are over."

"Leaving again," she asked sardonically as she poked her head out of the side of the canvass. Well her voice and facial features were sarcastic; on the inside, she was saddened by the thought of Mailto leaving.

"I'm not leaving, you're leaving." Mailto said with a commanding tone. "Congrats Azula, your therapy is over."

"Hmmm, Excellent," Azula replied with a creepy snake like voice. Then, with sarcastic excitement, she asked giddily, "Did I get the grant prize?"

Only stopping for a moment to chuckle, Mailto said, "Unfortunately no. but, on the bright side, you're not going to die either. Zuko has declared you a minim threat and has order you to be banished."

"Wow," Azula stated surprised and shocked. She almost seemed dissapointed. "Zuzu didn't have it in his heart to kill me? That's so…..predictable." She finished her sentence with a disgusted and disappointed voice. Then, going back to her painting, she began one of her rants as she was most known for in the asylum. "What's worst, is the fact that he only deemed me a 'minimum threat.' Damn it! I'd thought I'd scare him a lot more. But, do you want to know what the real problem is? Zuzu, Mai, you, Aang, Katarra, Sokka, they all think that they know what's best for my mental state. But they all assumed wrongly, from the begging when I was first admitted here, that I was a monster."

Then, looking Mailto straight in the eyes, with a warm yet chilling smile she stated, "I'm not a monster. I'm just ahead of the curve."

Feeling chills travel down his spine, Mailto felt that it was best to switch the topic before the horrific atmosphere in the room consumed him. Noticing that she was working very powerfully and intently on her painting, he decided to strike up a conversation based on that topic. "It seems as if though you have a passion," Mailto exclaimed. "I never knew you had such talent."

"I'm not much of an art lover," she replied while absorbedly studying her brush strokes. "But I do have a favorite artist." Her eyes began to dash back and forth, as they tended to do when she was trying to remember a memory from her childhood. Sadly, and horrifically, her child hood memory was fading. "There was this guy; I believe his name was Tentai Lee. And he used to do all of our family portraits. He was magnificent. I mean, it only took him like five minutes to just get a rough draft that looked palace worthy. But of course, my father was such a critic. He always had something to complain about on Tentai's paintings. So, one day, out of frustration, Tentai went home in tears after my father mocked one of his paintings publicly. He locked himself in his own bathroom, and cut off both of his ears, so that he may never hear another critique again."

Silence enveloped the room. Dread seized Mailto and held him tightly in its grasp. Azula, however, was strangely cheerful. "I liked his paintings." She beamed.

"…because he was a good artist?" Mailto asked, hoping that was the real reason she like his work.

"Nope; it's because he cut off both of his ears. Now that's real art!" she replied with a frightening laugh that scared the poor doctor Mailto. He squirmed out of anxiety. It was really awkward just to be standing in the doorway. What's more, was he got the strange sense that Azula was paying more attention to him that the actual painting. For, at that moment, Azula's eyes began darting back and forth between the painting and him franticly.

Then, she did something that Mailto believed was impossible; unless the apocalypse was at hand. Laying the brush down, she asked in a nervous tone, "Can I ask you a favor?"

"Uh…..sure." Maitlo replied uneasy; not entirely sure what he got himself into.

"You see," Azula began to explain herself. "I've been working on this painting all day. It has a guy and a girl in it-and don't worry. There's nothing graphic. But I can't seem to get the facial features right." Then, starting to shift out of either anxiety, or her mental illness, she asked warily, "Would you mind if I asked if I could use your facial features."

"You want to paint me." Mailto recognized more out of surprise than actual acknowledgement.

"Yes, Please have a seat," Azula politely asked as she pushed a stool forward for Mailto to sit on.

This gave Mailto the shakes. He was told to come in here to inform Azula of his and Tera's marriage. He wanted to do it quickly as possible. But now, she was asking him for help; politely! It was so out of character, it was creepy. But, wanting to get it over with, Mailto decided it was best to proceed. But he did so with caution as he walked forward to the stool. "I'm not so sure I'm entirely comfortable with this though." He made known.

"Don't worry dear." she stated. Then with an evil smile, she told him, "It's not a nude study…yet." Then she winked seductively at him.

With color rising to his cheeks, he stated with the heart and passion of a thousand burning suns, "That is not going to happen. Not in a billion years."

She chuckled for a moment at Mailto's zeal. Then she replied with nostalgia, "Besides, if I was doing a nude photograph, I wouldn't need you naked. I have an excellent memory when it comes to you and your di-"

"-Please, let's not talk about the night we shall not mention," Mailto interrupted.

With a dignified, "Hmph," she went back to her portrait. She stared at Maitlo's face for a long time; getting the curves, shadows, and barley noticeable blemishes on his face. Then, she began to go off on another rant. This time however, it was much more thought provoking than the last one.

"You see Mailto," She began. "Art is all about getting an emotional response. Take the work of Tentai Lee, for example. When some of my dad's followers; who, by the way, traveled half way across the world, saw the paintings, there were multiple emotion reactions. Some got all wide eyed, excited, and began to point. Some, like my father, began to criticize and study it. And some nut jobs, they began crying." Then, smiling mischievously, she told him a deep dark long secrete. "I really wanted to steal those paintings and do something wretched with them. I mean, could you imagine if one day, I got a hold of one of those paintings, cut out the eyes for eye holes, and wore it like a mask? Well then, you'd have hundreds pointing, many critiquing and millions crying! And that would be a much better response than just hanging it off a balcony. And besides, we were masks all the time; to cover up our faults and to appear normal and civilized. What a bunch of air bison shit. Art! Art frees people." Then, with dark playful intent in her eyes, she said, "Besides, you can't spell 'an artist,' without 'anarchist.'"

"Umm… I'm pretty sure you can," Mailto replied; slightly disturbed by her rant. The talking, while it gave him the creeps, also added a new insight on Azula. Maybe all she wanted was attention. After Mailto spoke up, she looked back at him with an all knowing glare. It was if her eyes were saying, 'I know that's not how it's spelt, but I enjoy saying it that way.'

Being the professional doctor, Mailto decided to give Azula one last piece of helpful advice. "Not everybody hides who they are," Mailto proclaimed.

It was Azula's decision to take it or leave it. Unfortunately she did the latter. With a gasp of air, and a slight chuckle, she said, "Oh, yes they do. You'll find out soon enough. After all, that's how most of these relationships start. You don't realize the faults, until you're stuck with them." Then, a strange glimmer sparkled in her eyes. She turned to Mailto and spoke with a reassuring tone. "At least with me, what you see is what you get. I don't hide behind walls, or masks. Those are the tools of the cowardly. I show my true self, everyday; through both my actions, and my art."

Then, suddenly, a switch was flipped in Mailto's head. Something clicked randomly during the conversation of hiding emotions. He was looking for an adequate segway for him admitting the news to Azula. Now, the time was before him to act. It was either now or never.

Bravery filled his chest, and with a voice filled with sarcasm and pride, he stated, "I guess we'll find out soon enough."

"Hmmm?" Azula hummed; interestingly curious as to what Mailto meant by this turn of phrase.

While there was some fear present within him (as his squirming shown), he was able to fight through the hesitation, and he began to tell Azula the news. "Well, the other day, I took your advice. 'If you want something, you take it; by force if necessary.'"

Azula smiled in both nostalgia and smugness. It was an exhilarating feeling to know that Mailto took advice from her. It was assumingly impossible for this to happen, and the impossible, now just became possible.

"So, I and Tera just set a date for the wedding."

Suddenly, and abruptly, she stopped painting. Her eyes widen, as if she was now on some strange planet, and was studying her surroundings. She looked like a deer in headlights, and Mailto was utterly confused by how Azula was acting. Her face was scrunching up, bit by bit at a time. He heard the audible sounds of sniffling coming from her and…..oh spirits, he thought with distraught and puzzlement. Are those…..tears in her eyes?'

If Mailto could see inside Azula's heart, he would be able to tell that her heart was breaking. She was aching in emotional pain. Her mind was reeling it the information that Mailto just told her. The words 'Terra' and 'wedding' played in her head over and over until she thought she was going to snap. Fortunatly for Mailto, she didn't. But that still did not take away from the fact that Azula was clearly heartbroken.

"Are you crying?" the doctor asked in amazement as he could see the water welling up in her eyelids.

Suddenly, she was back in her own body, and realized where she was at in the space time continuum. Shaking her head, she stated, though not so assuring, "No. I'm fine." Afterwards, she continued her painting, though not as intense as earlier. Her mind was now more focused on other things, and much to her displeasure, she couldn't stop it. The bad feelings of sorrow and low self opinion began to inflict itself upon her. The only way she could stop the pain, without crying, was through communication. And it was an idea that sickened her. She did not want to follow the orders of therapist to 'let it all out.'

Unfortunately, however, she did. And it was through the form of questioning.

"Am I invited to the wedding?" She asked politely and inquisitively after sometime had passed.

This struck Mailto as awkward. He knew that she had somewhat of an obsession with him, so he wasn't quite sure how to handle the question. It was a double edged sword. If he said something that brought her displeasure, she might take out those distasteful feeling upon him; violently, considering her admittance to the hospital in the first place. On the other hand, if he left the question more open for the debate, she could place in room for interpretation. So, his only response was that of, "Uh…"

"I do love wedding cake," She beamed, hoping that he'd allow her to join.

"….It's….going to be a small ceremony." Mailto stated, hoping that would end this discussion. He was getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

"Well….uh…I could be…uh….Terra's maid of honor!" she cheeringly and happily proclaimed.

"Well, Terra's sister is going to be the maid of honor." Mailto replied, this time with a hint of anger. He was about to crack. This constant questioning was beginning to become intrusive.

Leaning in for the kill, Azula asked rudely, "Where are you two going for your honeymoon?"

Finally, Mailto's anger got the best of him. The doctor spat back, loudly, "You know, this has officially gone pasted the subject of art!" he almost shouted. "You're lucky you even have me for one last vis-"

"And we're finished," Azula stated as she laid down the wet paint brush to the side of her. She dared not showed the painting top Mailto yet, wanting to see his reaction when she revealed the surprise. She gripped the two sides of the canvass tightly; eager to present her work. She peaked her head out from the side of the canvass and asked mockingly, "you want to get a glimpse of this master piece?"

"Let me guess, my true self?" Mailto replied just as sardonically. He tried guessing what exactly she had created, and knowing that the picture contained him somewhere in it, it was a reasonable estimation.

Azula's face twisted itself for some second into deep thought. It was as if she was literally contemplating what Mailto had just jokingly told her. But, it was only after a few seconds, that Azula's face became darkly, yet peacefully smug, and her brows lowered themselves in a seductive manner as she glared at the doctor. "Well, maybe not your true self. But It's how I see you." She said warmly.

Her heart race as she began to turn the painting around.

But before the doctor could even catch a glimpse of what Azula had created, the door behind them opened. They both turned their heads at the sound of the hinges swinging open with a creek. Standing the doorway, with his hand on the knob, was a very tall, very dark asylum guard. He looked into the room, with a mystified look on his face. For the way and position that Azula and Mailto were set up, was truly something out of the ordinary.

Then, he spoke. "Doctor Mailto," he proclaimed. "Tera's here to visit you."

"Oh, I forgot," Mailto begrudgingly exclaimed to himself under his breath as he rose from his seat. "The wedding rings."

Azula's face was now that of a lost puppy. Her eyes widen in bewilderment, and sadness. Her mouth was gaped open in somewhat of a surprise. Her heart was still racing, but it was more out of fear than happiness; the fear that Mailto was going to leave before getting a glimpse at her painting. With all her might, she tried to turn the painting around as fast as she could. But, to her dismay, the canvass was stuck to the wood stand. And no matter how hard she pulled on it, the canvass wouldn't turn.

Also, no matter how much whining, and whimpering she did to get the doctor's attention, he never once turned back to look at her. He walked out the door, back facing her, and replied without even the lightest form of interest in Azula's matters, "I'm going to have to go over some last minute plans, so we'll have to cut this session short. But keep up with the painting."

And with that, the door closed.

And with that, Azula's heart finally split in two.

And with that, the painting fell on to the floor, as Azula tumbled over it.

And with that, she did the one thing that she thought she'd never do again, after she was sentenced to the republic city mental care facility.

She cried.

She cried for hours upon hours, and no one heard her scream in agony. The walls inside her cell were completely sound proof; much to her dismay. She cried until her body felt drained of energy. She cried until it hurt to do so. She wanted him to come back. She wanted him in her arms. He didn't even get to see the 'surprise.'

'What is this surprise?' you may ask. Well, my fellow readers, the painting, of the boy and girl, just so happen to have Mailto as the boy. But the girl, the girl in the photo, was something of a huge piece of importance. For, the girl was Azula. Azula and Mailto were in the picture she painted.

And what were the boy and girl doing? They were kissing; tongues passionately meeting each other in a warm embrace.

The painting was of her and the doctor kissing; her biggest fantasy.

But now, the walls of the fantasy were torn and demolished. She was going to leave tomorrow, and the doctor was getting married. There was nothing she could do about it; or so she thought at the moment. For, after she cried out of sadness, and newer and stronger emotion arouse in her heart; anger. It caused her hands to shake, and her brows to furrow. Her mind was now setting in forth, a plan; a plan that she was going to carry out; a plan that she meant on following.

And no one was going to stop it. For if they did, they were surly going to die.

While on top of the painting, she leaned forward and kissed the painted doctor; the wet paint coming off on her lips, making them almost a peachy-gold color.

"I will not lose you," she stated in a low, grumble of rage.

No one was going to get in her way.

Uh-ho.

This doesn't look good for the doctor.

Anyways, I'm super sorry for the update. I had many things going on and not enough time to do them all. I really hope you have enjoyed this chapter. PLEASE REVIEW! Oh, and I also have a gift for all my faithful readers on my YouTube profile. (The link is on my author's page). I do this thing called a one man band, where I play all the instruments to a song, and synch the audio together so it sounds like the song I was playing. The newest video on my profile is my performing the alternative rock sensation, "WHERE IS MY MIND?" by the greatest band of all, "The Pixies." I can assure you, that you'll absolutely love it.

PLEASE VIEW THE VIDEO, AND PLEASE COMMENT IF YOU CAN! If not, send me a PM as soon as you see it.

With many humble regards,

Welocmetofightclub.

Peace out.