The War Within

Azula woke up in the dark.

Almost by reflex, she snapped a hand up and illuminated her surroundings with a small flame. Beneath the blue tint, she found herself in a stockroom of some kind; there were shelves along each wall bearing what looked like various kinds of pots and kettles, while crates of several different sizes were laid in clumps on the floor. The whole place smelled of spices and old herbs, but not of any actual food, oddly enough. Perhaps she was in a hospital of some kind? Azula realized that she was laying on a futon- a thick and rather comfortable one, she had to admit- in the center of the dark little room. She had no memory of how she got here, but at least whoever was hosting her seemed concerned for her comfort.

And then it came to her. The long, horrible night. The death of the Earth King. Her fight with a bear. Her escape from the palace. The long journey through the Upper Ring, crawling from shadow to shadow, until enough of her hope wore away that she was willing to deliver herself into the hands of her enemies just for the chance to stay alive. The wait through the night, until Unc- Ir- Uncle Iroh had appeared and she could personally beg for his help.

The previous night, she had promised that she would never allow herself to be recaptured alive. So much for her convictions when the going got hard. Azula was disappointed to discover that she was truly the type of person to do whatever it took to stay alive, even if it meant hurting herself. Certainly, it was well established that she had a tendency to risk other people's lives when her own was in danger, but betraying the last of what she believed in just for the chance to draw another breath was a disillusioning choice. No wonder no one liked her.

Azula felt her other arm, the one that wasn't current Firebending, twitch. To her surprise, it pressed futilely against a rough cloth prison. She looked down to find her Traitor Arm- the one that she had been brainwashed to kill herself with by Long Feng or the Dai Li or whoever- tied tightly against her own side and stomach with a thick bolt of cloth. The covering wound all around her body and knotted over her back. Beneath it, her hand still gripped the knife with which she had tried to slice her own throat, but the blade had been sandwiched between a pair of wooden blocks tied together to completely cover it. She would have been safe from the cutting edge no matter how she twisted or turned in her sleep.

Well, at least she had sold her freedom for competent help. That made her feel a little better about it.

Azula stood up and set about exploring her little hideaway, and discovered one more feature of interest: a set of stairs leading up in the far corner. So she was underground. The lack of windows should have been a clue, but then, she just woke up. It also meant that her hideaway was also an effective prison, then. As softly as she could, Azula climbed the stairs, and with her Kyoshi Warrior training, the process was very silent indeed. The only problem proved to be the closed door at the top. Azula lightly prodded at it to see how strong the lock might be, and the thing swung open with a creak like a murderously depressed bear.

Azula found herself blinking out into a kitchen filled with industrial-sized teapots, where Iroh sat waiting for her at a table by candlelight. "Ah, Niece. I would wish you a good morning, but the sun set several minutes ago. You must have been tired." The smell out here was less intense than the stockroom below, but Azula recognized it now. It was the scent of all the tea mixtures that Iroh collected for his Jasmine Dragon shop. He himself always smelled faintly of the ground plants that went into his concoctions, along with the slight tang of spicy Fire Nation food. It was a smell that, Azula realized, she had found familiar and comfortable even when 'Suki' visited this place with Sokka and the others.

It was a link to her past, and now the guardian of her present.

There were two ways Azula could play this: either go along with Iroh and play the polite prisoner, or immediately launch an attack against the Dragon of the West and then try to escape into a city that was actively hostile towards her. Azula may have been dealing with a Traitor Arm that wanted to kill her, but she wasn't completely crazy. She sighed and walked out to sit across from her uncle at the table. "I was up all last night, and was fairly active for most of it. Every time I nodded off, the hand with the knife tried to slit my throat again, so I delayed my rest. Thank you for taking care of that, by the way."

Iroh nodded. "My pleasure. Although I was forced to limit my measures to the temporary. I couldn't even pry the knife from your grip, no matter how deeply you slept. I am, naturally, very curious about why your own hand is trying to kill you."

Azula must have gotten a very good sleep as, despite the whole situation, she found her lip quirking while she said, "Well, everyone else was getting in on it, I guess my own hand didn't want to be left out."

Iroh stared at her.

"Sorry. Honestly, it's a long story, and that's just the parts I know about."

"You killed the Earth King." Iroh's soft words did not at all match the hardness of his gaze.

Azula stood up and pointed with her free hand right in her uncle's face. "Not on purpose! I just wanted to ask him about what had been done to me. Why someone stuck their hand in my mind and stirred the contents like a bowl of jook! I had barely started asking him about it before something... foreign... took over my body and made me kill him, then it took up residence in my arm and spent the rest of the night trying to slice my throat open." Putting down her hand, Azula gave her sweetest possible smile. "You want to know who to really ask? The first thing I did when I lost control was to tell the Earth King that, 'Long Feng sends his greetings. You should have known that no one in the world is beyond his reach.' Maybe you have more answers than I do, at this point? I can't even remember the last time I saw that man. Literally."

Azula sat down again, and felt a surge of satisfaction in her gut at the expression on Iroh's face. His eyes were wide with surprise, and his mouth was twisted in a grimace that left him completely without speech. He probably liked to imagine that he had all the answers, had almost certainly counseled Zuko on the matter of turning his troublesome sister into a toy to be raffled off, and it was all too delicious to show him how little he understood the storm that was Azula's life right now.

Then she was struck by a feeling like a spear of ice stabbing into her gut, and Azula drooped backwards in her chair. "I'm sorry for that."

Iroh's eyes focused on her, but lost none of their guarded unease.

Azula sighed. "I need to be careful. When I lost control with the Earth King, it was because he said... the name of Long Feng's old organization. And another name. We need to be careful what I say, and what you say around me. I have no idea what other triggers might be built into me." Azula closed her eyes and massaged her forehead with her free hand. "This is going to be hard."

They were both silent for a while after that, until Iroh got up and started making tea. Soon enough, he brought a steaming pot over to the table with two cups, and poured generously for both himself and Azula. "This is very troubling news," he said after his first sip, "but I accept it as you present it. I held your arm away from you after you passed out, and I felt the disharmony within. That could not be faked. But... were you really trying to interrogate the Earth King about your mind?"

"Yes. That's all I've been doing since I escaped Kyoshi Island. Just dodging Zuko's forces and trying to figure out what's been done to me. I didn't know who I could trust, and the people who made me think I was a Kyoshi Warrior were definitely off the list."

"But why the Earth King?"

"I figured he would be a lousy liar, out of everyone involved." Azula stared down into her tea. Her last memory of being served like this was when Ty Lee had tried to drug her back on Kyoshi Island, but Iroh hardly had to stoop to such measures to keep her in his power. She raised the cup and took a deep sip. The warmth pooled in her stomach, and stretched out to the rest of her body. "I just... I'm not sure when that occurred to me. I went seeking... something in the city of Yang, and then some time later, I found myself on the road to Ba Sing Se. There are blank spots, and a... a pressure in my skull that wasn't there before... the Earth King. It's like it's all blocked off, behind a wall that seems like it's always been there."

Iroh reached over, took her chin carefully in his hand, and raised her head so that they were looking in each other's eyes. "Niece, I need you to be truthful with me. How much do you remember of your life?"

She met his gaze unflinchingly. "So little. There are images, waking dreams from before Kyoshi Island, but otherwise my life begins as a woman named Suki."

"And what happens when you try to remember being a little girl? Think to the palace, to the times we traded barbs, to the games you played with Zuko. What can you reach, from those times?"

Azula ground her teeth together, and took a deep breath, but she didn't let herself flinch from Iroh's gaze. "Nothing. To stretch my mind in that way is like forcing myself to walk off a cliff. I can't look into that abyss without feeling small, and weak. And dizzy."

He stared into her eyes, his dragon-gold gaze like a needle pushing back and through into her skull. "Like," he said slowly, "a missing limb that aches despite its absence?"

"Yes." All of Azula's breath left her at once, leaving a void inside that was cleansing in its harsh purity. The candle on the table flickered, and its flame nearly went out. "Exactly."

Iroh let go of her, glanced at the candle, and then finally looked back down at his tea cup. "I was against this plan from the start. I thought that no good could come of forcing change on a person. But Zuko... all of them... wanted to save you. They truly feared for your life. And you have ever been such a mystery to me, so I allowed them to convince me that they saw something I could not. I am sorry I did not fight for you more, Niece, but I can offer my help now."

"Help?"

"You are out of balance. Your mind has been damaged, in no less than two ways. Once by your well-meaning friends, and once by our shared enemies. Not to mention your childhood! Long Feng turned you into his tool, somehow, and sent you to Ba Sing Se. And you are without a defense as long as you do not know yourself."

"And how can you help? Can you tell me what happened to me? And why?" Azula suddenly realized what she was saying, and slumped in her seat. "What am I saying? I don't know that I can trust you any more than the others."

Iroh nodded. "You cannot. That is why I don't offer you my perspective, or proofs of dubious origin. I offer you the chance to go within, to find the answers that lie in your own heart and mind. I once journeyed to the Spirit World, and the journey into the landscape of your own mind is similar enough."

Could he be implying... "You're saying I can restore my memories? Reverse what was done to me?"

"I do not know. How can I, when not even you can tell what lies within you? I believe it is worth a try, though. And I will tell you anything that you cannot remember, I promise. But... there is another danger..."

Azula had to suppress a snort. "Of course there is. Nothing worth doing is easy. What's this danger?"

Iroh finally looked up at her, and when she saw the gold in his eyes reflect the candlelight, Azula realized she was once again facing the Dragon of the West. "Yourself. Whatever memories, whatever feelings, whatever life you regain will come with the responsibility for that history. For your crimes. And if my help brings about even greater hurt on this world... I will take responsibility for my actions. Do you understand? Do you still wish to try this?"

Azula smiled, and it was all teeth. "Do you honestly think that I have anything to lose?"

There were seated back in the basement supply room. The crates had been removed, and the shelves emptied of the clutter. A mat was spread out over the floor, and Iroh and Azula were seated upon it in lotus positions (or, in Azula's case, the closest she could manage with her Traitor Arm still bound), facing each other like Pai Sho opponents. Between them, a line of burning candles stood like a gate. It was a convenient place to meditate, and away from prying eyes, but Azula knew the real reason they were down there. She would be unlocking secrets hidden away in the depths of her own mind, and what that might do to her was completely unknown. It was possible that Iroh would have to imprison her, and it might even be for her own good. For all Azula knew, this was all playing into Long Feng's plans for her.

She took a deep breath and bottled all those worries and concerns in her lungs. Then, as one, uncle and niece breathed out their troubles and material concerns, and the flames responded with a glow that lit the entire room. "Do you feel it," Iroh droned, "the Fire that lives within just as it lives without?"

"I do," Azula whispered, and it was the truth. Her heart beat in time with the pulse of the candle flames, which pumped her blood out through the veins of her body, and pushed Qi along the paths in her flesh and Spirit both. All was connected, but there was a steadiness in the Fire that Azula had never felt before, for Iroh's spirit was also present in the heat and light and lifeglow, and he and the Flame knew each other so well that they could no longer be considered separate entities.

But then, that might have just been the 'special tea' that Iroh had given her. He had said it was an aid for reaching the proper state of mind to travel to the Spirit World, and would work just as well for a journey within. Azula had refrained from joking that perhaps he developed a special taste for it long ago.

Iroh's voice was the sound of the burning wicks: "Now, there is nothing but you."

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"The flame, the air, the breath, the sky, and you are all one."

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"All is merely an expression of You."

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"You."

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"Now."

Now.

The flames flared and turned blue, but Azula was already gone.

I am gone. I, who had called myself Azula, am now transformed into the most pure energy. All is energy, and energy is Fire, and so all is Fire, and so I am Fire.

I sit on my father's knee, a flickering little flame in the shape of a girl, as he explains this to me.

"You must realize how special you are, Azula." I am pleased, down to the core of my flame. I like being special, and I like even more that my father calls me special. I look up, and his face is a skull covered in shadow, and his voice is a blue wind the buffets my heart, and all around us the world burns, but all I care for are his words. "You know the legend of the Agni Warrior," he says, and I nod. I would nod even if I didn't know. I would nod if he decided that the only way to please him was to die. "The Agni Warrior was born of the light of the Sun, a tongue of its hottest flame that chose to walk the Earth as a Man, Spirit and Fire made flesh. He gathered those upon whom the Sun shone the brightest, the Dragonkin, and freed them from the bonds of slavery to the Earth."

I nod, and the burning world around us screams like a dying animal. It is the sound of ecstasy.

Father continues, "The great Lords of Men stood against the Agni Warrior, but none could withstand him in battle. For he had his Sword, a blade that scorched the lands with every swing, that birthed a volcano with every strike. The Fire Sages collect many legends about this Sword alone, but do you want to know the truth?"

I do, and not only because he wants me to.

"The Sword was in truth the greatest of the Agni Warrior's followers, a Firebender whose power the world would see but once more. This Firebender gave up his life, gave up his body and his mind and his memories of human life, and became a weapon to be held by the Light of the Sun made flesh. The Agni Warrior used the sword to carve a chain of volcanos that became the Fire Islands, spread his people across the ash-lands, and sired an order of Sages to lead them all. Before he left, the Agni Warrior prophesied that his Sword would be born again, of his bloodline, and finish the job he started: to deliver all the lands to the Sun and the Fire."

It is too much. Too glorious. I take the words and the joy in his wind and I build a heart and mind to house it forever, the only heart and mind that I have in the flame of my body.

The skull that is his face turns, and he looks me in the eyes with empty sockets out of which the bodies of all our victims tumble. "The Sword has been reborn, Azula." His words drive a spear of ice into my stomach. How can this be? If the Sword has returned, than what need does my father have of me? I'm just a little flame, not even a real person. Without his will, I am nothing. But then my father smiles, his skull pulls free of the shadows, and I look up with awe and honor and take his words unto my Inner Fire: "You are the Sword of the Agni Warrior, Azula. You will deliver the world to my control. And I will make you a worthy Sword. I will break you and melt you down and forge you into the most terrible weapon of which I can conceive."

I cry out, and give him my love, and he accepts it, though love itself is a pale offering to one such as he...

We fight on the banks of the river.

I snap out a roundhouse kick, launching a cloud of ash into the air as my boot leaves the ground, and the ash gives way to flame when I throw my Qi and killing intent into the strike. The Other ducks beneath the fire and moves forward without flinching, but I have spun and reestablished my stance by now, and so I am ready to block her palm strikes. Her own attacks come in a flurry with speed that I envy, and even as I accept her strikes on my forearms she steps closer and transitions into hammering away with her hardened elbows. My bones protest with screams that echo up through my arms and hammer at my brain from within; I have a moment to wonder why my armor isn't protecting me before the noise starts echoing in my skull and erases all my thoughts.

I am knocked back by the cacophony, and nearly stumble into the river. The banks here are nothing more than an unending pile of ash, and they shift beneath my boots. Perhaps if I wasn't wearing full armor, I would be better able to keep my footing, but the weight of it on my body turns my every footstep into a stab at the yielding ground.

I cannot catch my balance, and I throw out my arms for anything I might be able to grasp as I stumble backwards towards the river-

There is nothing to keep me from falling-

I plunge backwards into the river-

It is a river of blood.

It is old blood, mixed with ash from the banks, and its taste overwhelms me with rust and oil and disease and old meat. It burns my eyes, although that might just be the ash particles, and beats its way up my nose and into my lungs. I try to breathe, but it is like trying to breathe stone, and my lungs fill with blood that is not my own to make them as heavy as the armor that drags me to the bottom of the river.

A hand breaks through the sludge above me, and reaches down for me, but I can only stare at it as I sink...

My grave is dark, I can't Firebend, and I can feel the worms starting to work their way into my body.

I surrender to death as soon as possible, but it isn't soon enough...

The child won't come out, no matter how much I call to her. To be fair, it is a nice house, set right on a swell of the hill so that it has a perfect view of Kyoshi Island's fishing bay. It's the type of place I could see myself retiring to, someday. First, though, I have to earn a place like this, a place to call my own, and that's going to take a lot of dead bodies. I don't know why they like to have me kill people, but a job's a job.

I don't tell the child that, though. She's a skittish little thing, and telling her that I might someday get an order to snap her pretty little neck isn't going to get her out of that house.

From the front yard, just a step or two from the porch, I coo to her through the open windows and promise her lots of toys and treats if she would just come out, and I think that it sounds pretty nice, if I do say so myself. I like my voice, and when it's all soft and ingratiating, I can make people do whatever I want. I don't even have to flash any leg. To be honest, I don't even know if my legs are nice enough to bother flashing, and it would be beneath me to ask someone if I have a good pair of legs. The child, however, just isn't buying it. My voice, I mean, not my legs. She shouts out a negative, like a whiny, petulant, spoiled brat, and I'm half tempted to use my delicious little voice to describe how I can set this house on Fire, complete with all the details I can make up about how it feels to burn to death. I don't do any of it, though, because I want the child to come to me as a friend.

I don't have many friends, and definitely none that haven't tried to kill me at some point or another.

So I go on with my lovely, valuable voice about what fun we'll have together if the girl will just come out, how we'll go watch the fishing boats come in when the sun sets, and then go to the best fish fry on Kyoshi Island to get some dinner. I even promise to tell her stories about the war and the Fire Nation, and soon enough I'm even pledging on my honor that we can take a vacation to Ember Island to buy some ice cream and flirt with the stupid boys. I tell her how much she'll like ice cream, because it's sweet and creamy like my voice, and I used to like it when I was a little girl except I make that last part up because I was never a little girl.

The child still doesn't come out. Instead, she commands me to leave.

I'm a wonderful person, but the one thing that I absolutely cannot tolerate is being ordered around like some kind of slave. So I simply tell her, fine, mean little girls don't get to go for ice cream, mean little girls get to inhale smoke while their stupid house burns down around them. I raise my hand and the Fire holds it like a comforting parent, and I'm about to burn down a house I love and a girl I desperately want to be friends when a hand-

-a real hand-

-grabs my wrist and tells me, "Don't."

I turn to look and it's The Other. She tells me, "Don't be that way. Let her stay in the house if she wants. If you burn it down then she won't have a chance to come out and be friends later."

Her voice is every bit as lovely as mine...

I sit down on the riverbank of ash, and it really doesn't matter because the grainy river-blood is still dripping from between the plates of my armor. It's peaceful in this land of ash, and as I look across the river at the approaching ferry, I can almost imagine that I am staring out over real water colored by the setting sun. But there is no sun, here, because my father devoured it long ago. The sky is nothing more than a field of storm clouds, always writhing with unending chains of lightning that are the only source of light in this land. The one part of me that isn't covered in blood is my hand, the hand that The Other grabbed to drag me out of the river. The blood refuses to even drip down over that hand.

"We should be fighting," I say.

She looks over, and her beauty is another thing that doesn't belong in this world of ash. She should be somewhere else, somewhere with a real sun and rivers of water. "I've never really understood fighting. I know how, but whenever people try to fight me I can't help but think that there are easier ways to get things done."

I shake my head at her, and I laugh. I love her so much. "Fighting is the whole point. I don't fight you to get things done, I fight you because of who we are."

"Who are we?"

"Me and you. And then there's the child, but if she doesn't want to play then I'm not going to worry about her."

"But why do we fight?"

"Because we have to. No matter how you look at it, we have to fight."

She really does look sad at that. She sheds a pair of perfect little tears, and I actually feel a little jealous because my tears are ugly, and when I cry I do it with all the grace of the Unagi in a bathtub. "But all I want to do is help you. I've helped you already, against the Dark and the Voice, and again with the Knife. I'm meant to help you."

"No, you think so, but it's not true. You're not real. You're just a list of what other people want for me. If I stop fighting you, then I become your slave." The blood keeps dripping from me, and I don't think I'll ever be able to get dry as long as I'm here, with The Other.

"So whose slave would you rather be?"

I look over at her, and she really is so beautiful. I smile and reach my clean hand over to run a hand through her rich black hair, and then I grab her face and twist and slam her head over into my rising knee...

The world explodes into Fire.

It hits me like my father's fists, threatening to knock me over, but the wooden pillar below me stays steady and solid and so I'm left standing in the sky. The flames eventually settle down onto my wooden skin, and the view is once more clear enough to see out over the island. Kyoshi's main village, the fishing village, burns below me. Storm clouds gather in the distance, out over the ocean, but the people- my glorious people who called Kyoshi Island home and lived for generations below me- are clustered on the docks, trying to steal whatever vessel will carry them from the flames. I try to call out to them, to tell them that all will be okay if they just stay here and help me fight the fire, but my wooden body has no lungs, and so my voice exists only in my imagination.

Then another ball of fire comes arcing out of the storm clouds, an azure flare that arcs toward me with a fearsome intelligence, and my world explodes into flame again. I want to scream, but not because I burn; I try to scream because I know that I have failed, that I am not perfect, and less than perfect is less than acceptable. The storm clouds flow in from over the ocean, fed by the foul black smoke of my own burning body, and without my people, without a voice, I lack the will to keep the storm away...

I have been lost in the dark for countless centuries, and see an endless stretch of darkness before me.

I know this place, and can only whimper against it. It's not real fear, the fear that keeps people away from things that could hurt and kill them, this is the wrong fear. It's the fear that comes from having been hurt already, hurt so horribly that I can't even run from it, I can only despair at the prospect of being hurt that way again. But it is also a wrong fear because it's a fear I don't need to feel, for I have survived this once before, and I need not fear that which I have already survived.

I survived because of Her, and in the darkness, I suddenly find that my eyes work again. The storm clouds are parted by a shaft of golden light that pierces the night and brings warmth to my icy skin. She has come for me, once again. My love, my self, my Other...

We're on a cliff, and it could be one of the higher elevations of the Serpent's Pass, or the bluffs on Kyoshi Island, or an island in the sea of blood, or anything. I'm not a geography freak. The only part I care about is that He is here. He's being like He always is, kind and caring and beautiful and intelligent, and saying, "It's so hard to lose someone you care about. Something happened at the North Pole, and I couldn't protect someone. I don't want anything like that to ever happen again."

I could burst into flames, I feel so much. I can taste His sorrow, and because it's His sorrow that I feel it just the same, but also I'm ready to burst with happiness because even though He isn't talking about me, He really is. He's afraid of losing me. He's admitting that I'm important to Him.

I don't even know who I am, but the fact that He cares about me makes it all right. I say something back to Him, something flirtatious but He doesn't get it because I'm the worst at flirting in the entire world, and He doesn't hear that I'm really saying, "Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me!"

He's kind of stupid that way, too.

So finally I tell Him that what I really mean, only a little more coherently than the whole kissy mantra, and He says, "Oh." My stomach flips at the prospect that it might be a good Oh, and my heart chills at the thought that it might be a bad Oh. But then our faces draw together, and I close my eyes because suddenly the sight of Him is the least interesting thing going on right now and that's really saying something, and our lips draw together and touch-

"I can't."

I don't know why He can't, but I have the sinking sensation- like a stone in my stomach dragging me down into a river of blood- that it's because of The Other. Either He's afraid of her, or He wants her more than He wants me, and I don't know which terrifies me more because either way that means I'll never really have Him. "I'm... sorry."

"No, you shouldn't be."

Our fight lasts long enough for the ferry to arrive, and even as it slides up onto the banks of ash, I chop a small arc of Fire at The Other's middle, but she throws herself into a butterfly kick that carries her over the flame. I prepare once again for a counter assault, but she refuses to yield to my expectations. She allows her landing to carry her all the way down to the ground in crouch, and the impact causes an explosion of ash that obscures my vision, so it's too long before I realize that she has rolled through the cloud and come up near the beached ferry.

I immediately launch another attack, throwing out as many as punches and short kicks as I can, not caring that I'm too far away for them to connect because there's no limit to the Fire I can summon. She dodges each attack, sidestepping and leaning and ducking and hopping, and the only thing all her moves have in common is that she manages to take a step back towards the ferry with each one. Even as her left foot lands on the tied wooden logs of the ferry's main platform, I am still striking, only now I'm close enough that it's easier just to throw my flesh against hers. She slaps my fists out of the way, twists to take my kicks on the least vulnerable parts of her body, and smiles as one of my punches falls just short of her nose.

I'm still attacking when the ferry pulls itself back onto the river, not at all disturbed by our battle atop it.

The fight lasts for centuries. Ages come and go, civilizations rise and fall, and the whole time I try to end her life while she defends herself and the river of blood passes beneath us. It varies, of course, given how much time we cover. Sometimes she succeeds through sheer impossible skill, but other times she fights like a beginner and only her unwillingness to fall down and die is what keeps the war going. Sometimes she even goes on the offensive, battering at my defenses just to win herself a reprieve. It hurts when she hits me, oh by the Agni Warrior it hurts, but my life is never in danger. The Other too beautiful to kill me.

The fight, the ride on the ferry, could have lasted for centuries more, but eventually I get tired...

The girl is still locked in the house below us, but we don't care. The Other and I just climb up to the roof, and lie down on top of it to soak in the warmth of the sun. I can still hear the girl inside, ordering us to bring her ice cream, but we ignore her shrieking. Instead, I say, "So what do you have in mind?"

The Other looks up at the sun, and her black hair almost shines in its light, and I like the look so much that I decide that I have black hair, too, and so I do. Still gazing into the sky's healthy glow, she speaks slowly and softly, like to a frightened child. "Nothing has to change. Just you become me and I become you. You get to know what I know, and I get the strength and flesh to heal my wounds."

I frown, but not because I'm displeased. It's part of how I think. "Doesn't sound like a bad trade."

"I didn't think so. And as a bonus, we get to love each other and not fight."

"Still going on about that, are you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay, okay. Let's do it. Let's stop being you and me, and just be Me, and then we can go destroy our enemies and find our friends."

She turns to look at me, and I decide that she would look stunning with auburn hair, and so she has it. "About slushin' time," she says.

I hug my mother before We wake up.

It took her a while to wake up.

In the light of the fire she summoned, she didn't recognize her surroundings until she spotted the line of wax puddles on the floor in front of her. She made the connection between the mess and the candles she and Uncle Iroh had meditated around, and then it all came back to her. She was in his supply basement, trying to reconnect with her own mind and past. She had been trying to slay an enemy that lived within, so that she would be able to slay an enemy who lived without. Taking a deep breath, she began pushing she sluggish mind into the past, trying to remember her childhood. Was her father Ozai? A fisherman on Kyoshi Island who died in a mudslide? How had she been taught to fight, and by who? She marshaled her strength, and tried to remember…

And she remembered nothing. Yet it didn't hurt to try; there was no nausea, no headache, no ill feeling that threatened to dampen her Inner Fire. It was just a lack of memory, no worse than forgetting what she had for breakfast. A definite improvement. Long Feng and Dong Min's techniques must be...

...fool...

...proof...

Long Feng.

She had met with Long Feng. He turned other women into an army of Azula's. He captured her. Put her in the Dark with the Voice. Sent her here.

She remembered. Well, well, well...

There was but one more test she had to perform, and it would involve risking her life.

It was time to free her Traitor Arm.

First, she unleashed the knife. She let the fire in her hand go out, plunging the room into darkness. Even without seeing, she worked quickly. The strings parted against the pressure of her fingers, and the wooden slats that they had tied into place clattered to the ground. She could feel the hard edge of the knife pressed against her body, but she sat straight up enough that she was in no danger. Untying knot on the cloth wrapping that bound the arm to her body took some work, but she didn't think that the simplicity of burning it off was worth the risk of lighting her clothes on fire. The fabric was stiff as she unspooled it from around her middle, almost like it had been soaked in something and then allowed to dry and harden. The arm was pale where the sleeve had been pulled back, and the skin was imprinted with the texture of the coarse fabric. The arm stayed in place like an obedient dog until she willed it to move.

She could feel the arm straightened out in front of her, but she had to see it. She summoned a flame again in her free hand, and the knife glistened in the blue light. It glistened, but it didn't move. Then she willed her hand to open. The fingers stretched with the grace and steadiness of the earth itself waking and rising. One by one, they peeled back from the weapon.

And so the knife fell through the air and struck the floor, blade first. She left it where it was and ascended the stairs out of the basement.

When she pushed open the door, she found Uncle Iroh once again in his kitchen, but this time the sun streamed through the window behind him. He was, of course, in the process of boiling a pot of tea. Letting the door to the basement swing shut behind her, she went over the kitchen table and said, "I'm back."

He turned to face her with obvious surprise. "Niece! Welcome back to the physical world. I must say, I'm relieved to see you. It's been three days, and I was starting to get worried. I thought I would have to put off the shop's reopening tomorrow."

"Three days," she repeated as she took a seat at the table. "Huh."

Uncle Iroh bustled over to her and deposited a steaming cup in front of her. "I see that you re-established balance in your body and control of all your limbs. But what of your memory?" He sat down at the table with his own cup, and gave her a look that struck her as half concerned and half terrified.

"Something I've never been able to figure out," she said slowly, considering the matter even as she vocalized it, "is why my hair is red. Suki was supposed to have the red tint in her hair, but Azula had black hair. Why is my hair like Suki's?"

Uncle Iroh gazed at her for a long moment before answering. "That was apparently one of Zuko's… lies. Azula- you- always had auburn hair. You and your mother were both known for it, in the Fire Palace, but of course most pictures are drawn in black ink. It would have been an easy deception to maintain for most of the world. I believe that Zuko thought it was a deception that would protect you."

He sighed. "From what he and Sokka told me, it was all for your protection. You were already sick in the mind from the pressures of your father's manipulations, but we all still saw you as a threat. Avatar Aang took your Firebending, thinking it the least hurtful way of neutralizing the danger, but you responded... poorly. And so Sokka and your brother invented this Kyoshi Warrior who you could become, to live a safe and happy life. I know it may sound unfair, but I confess I am relieved that you cannot remember your true life as Azula." Uncle Iroh looked up at that point, and gave a smile and a wink. "If you are telling the truth."

She found herself smiling back. "If you're telling the truth, you mean." She held her formerly traitorous hand above the tea cup, enjoying the feel of the heat that emanated from it. "I'm not quite sure what happened in my mind, but... I made a connection, of some kind. I still can't remember anything before... Suki... but it no longer hurts. And I'm missing nothing of the person I am now."

She raised her gaze to Iroh, and with a simple motion of her finger and a small exertion of will, absorbed the heat out of her tea and into her heart. "I remember everything that has happened to me since my awakening on Kyoshi Island. Yang City, Long Feng, and his other victims. Everything. And I know what I want to do about it." She let out a sigh, a deep breath that cleared air out of her lungs that could have been lurking within for ages, and then she stood. "I need to use the bathroom. After that, I- we should make plans. As you warned me, I must take responsibility for the past I have rediscovered. And... I want to."

"That is good. I can offer you advice, and perhaps even a little help."

She nodded and turned to go, but Uncle Iroh's voice called out for one last grasp on her attention. "Niece?" She looked back at him. He still hadn't touched his own tea. "By what name should I call you?"

It was a good question, and she gave it heavy consideration before she finally responded. "I suppose... 'Azula' will still do. I don't have many weapons left, and casting aside the most devastating of them would be foolish." She smiled, and put on an expression that was all heat and anger. "Yes. Call me Azula."

TO BE CONTINUED