Doubt – a sequel of sorts to 'Death would be Better'

Aang walked away from the prison tower with slumped shoulders. He had just been to see Ozai, wanting to make certain the man was alright. The former Fire Lord and would be Phoenix King had informed Aang that he would have preferred death to having his bending stolen from him. Ozai had looked more than just defeated. He had looked like a dried out husk of what he used to be.

Aang's normally light step, light as the air that he bended with such ease, was heavy now. His feet felt almost glued to the stone path and he struggled to lift them up and place one in front of the other. His big grey eyes were cloudy with a swirling storm of emotions. He needed to speak to Zuko. He needed to know that sparing Ozai's pitiful life was really the best thing to do.

"Do you think I did the right thing, Zuko, with your father I mean?" the Avatar asked the Fire Lord when he finally made it back to the palace. "He looked so down."

"He's in prison, Aang. What did you expect him to look like?"

Zuko poured Aang a cup of tea and handed it to the distraught Avatar, placing a sympathetic hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I don't know; glad to be alive, maybe," Aang finally replied and took a sip of his tea.

He looked over at Zuko gratefully and the Fire Lord gave him a wry smile.

"Look, Aang, not everyone is as cheerful and optimistic as you are. My father is definitely not."

"Yeah, I kind of noticed."

"Besides, what was your alternative? It was either remove his bending or kill him, am I right?"

"Yes," Aang replied meekly. His eyes looked sad and his expression was sorrowful. "It's just, when I did it, it seemed like the right thing. But now that I've seen him, all depressed looking and feeling like he's not whole anymore, I wonder."

"Why do you worry? The guy is a bastard. He deserves what you gave him and more. Other people deserve your sympathy, not him."

Zuko's tone was angry. He couldn't help it. When it came to Ozai, anger was pretty much all he felt now, anger and regret.

"Zuko," the Avatar said gently. "I realize you have a lot of issues with your father. And I get that you want him punished but still, I believe that everyone deserves dignity at least."

"His dignity is his own worry," Zuko hissed. "Don't feel sorry for him, Aang. He brought everything on himself. He put you in that position and he should be damn grateful to have an opportunity to finally change for the better."

"Do you think he will?" Aang asked hopefully.

"Not a chance," Zuko replied bitterly.

"Oh," the airbender replied and hung his head. "Then I guess I'll just have to live with what I did."

"We all have things that we have to live with," the Fire Lord said and reached out for Aang again. "You're strong, much, much stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"Thank you, Zuko. It's nice being able to talk to you."

"Yeah, it is nice, isn't it?"

Passions

Mai winced ever so slightly as the blade she was practicing with slipped from her grasp and nicked the palm of her opposite hand. She licked at the little bubble of blood and grimaced at the metallic taste. But that was all the time she took between tosses. She didn't coddle herself or moan about the little wound. Rather she was almost proud of the cuts and fine scars that peppered her fingers and hands. They were physical evidence that she was actually alive and doing something, not just a walking ghost, a half person, a mirage.

Throwing her knives was the only solace she had and she flung herself into the task with as much abandon as she ever had anything. With Mai, that wasn't saying much. Her passion was cool and restrained, pushed down to the very pit of her stomach where it stayed like an obedient child.

Sometimes, it didn't listen, however, and reared itself upward, thrusting hard and forcing its way through her body until she spoke or thought or did something unheard of for her. Zuko made that passion arise and so did her blades. The Fire Nation prince awakened something warm and sticky, exciting and slightly confusing. Her blades, they awakened everything poised and determined, a steely precision and a dazzling grace.

When the two passions combined, she was unstoppable.

Aberration

Azula stared at the blood welling up from the three cuts on her brother's forehead. They weren't even cuts really, more like a scratches, made by her long, sharp, pointed nails in an unusual fit of rage. She was transfixed for a moment, staring at the lines of beautiful red marring the perfect white skin.

She felt a quick flash of shame for sinking so low. Azula was a firebender and not just an ordinary one either. She was a prodigy, a rarity, someone who could create lightning and let it soar from her fingertips, blue and crackling. She, princess of the Fire Nation, daughter of Fire Lord Ozai, didn't need to get close to her enemies. Her blue flames could kill from a distance, putting gaping, ragged holes through chests, or lighting up bodies like she would a torch on festival day. She could kill from a distance, never really getting her hands dirty.

Then why had she reached out for Zuko, marking him, resorting to the base savagery of scratching, like an angry little girl? It was almost intimate, the gesture, and it gave her pause. Whatever emotion it was that had compelled her hand forward, needed to be squelched. It needed to be stomped down as resoundingly as the dirt was beneath her feet.