As much as I love those in-depth character studies of Azula and her descent into insanity, almost all of them are about her parents' roles in causing it and Zuko's help in recovering from it. And as much as I love Zuko (which is, to say, a lot), I know that he's got a pretty big part in it himself and that Azula probably wouldn't be too accepting towards, "Hey Azula, I came to visit you because I want to help you get better." Let's remember that this is a deeply, deeply emotionally unstable Azula who pretty much has no trust in anyone. So, in light of that, I decided to publish this fic.

It's also semi-personal for me, because as much as I (also) love my sister, she tends to get...aloof a lot. But, like Zuko, she has her reasons for it.

EDIT: Apologies for not being canon-compliant with The Search trilogy. Although this story was posted months after its release, the original draft was written the day Part 1 was out to the public, and I didn't get a chance to read it until the next day, and I was too impatient to wait to read before writing it down because this piece was written purely in a fit of anger.

Zuzu can say he cares all he wants; it's not like saying it will make it true. "Oh yes," they say, "Fire Lord Zuko is most charitable: adhering to the Avatar's stance against death in this war, even to the worst of criminals. Helping his sister heal - ruthless, conniving monster though she is - what a magnanimous, honorable young man." The staff here say things like that, murmuring back and forth - well, no, not murmuring. They laugh and joke and shout. The well-being of their patients isn't a priority, no matter how much they claim it to be.

He comes to visit sometimes - her treacherous brother with her robes and her crown - she never looks at him, no matter what he says. He acts as if he's always genuinely cared. But she knows better. As if he ever cared about how she felt, cuddled up in their (his, she reminds herself, his) mother's arms. The very thought is bitterly amusing. He may think somewhere in that deluded, self-righteous head of his that somewhere (very) deep down he has always cared for her, as that's how siblings are, but she knows the truth. She doesn't want to deceive herself like he does.

They were never normal siblings.

Being a prodigy was never easy in their family. She had always been on display and "very good" was never good enough for her father - only "excellent." He had pushed her and pushed her and pushed her toward perfection, and she, in turn, had gladly striven for it. She had always hated seeing that look in his eyes: that dark, stormy glint with something ghastly and horrid lurking underneath the surface; the way his mouth would always stretch into that line of grim displeasure... Pursuing perfection had hardly been a problem, and soon enough it became a way of life. She had wanted to please her father, had wanted so badly to please... The doctors and their talk of coping and stress and caution had meant nothing. Nothing. The fears she had had over what could come out of it had been cast off as irrelevant, and the lingering terror that had seeped into her bones when she looked in the mirror from time to time? How is it important - What's happening to me? What am I turning into? - how?

Zuko had been all she had left. Her only outlet.

He doesn't understand (not that anyone ever did) the kind of rage and confusion she's felt for so long. He doesn't understand how she could have enjoyed taunting him and all his failures, how she couldn't help it because it was the only way... But if he ever does come to understand, she knows he won't care. Why would he care for a horrible madwoman like Azula when she's so obviously evil? Sometimes - Not funny, Azula! You're sick - she wonders if it's worth it to hope. The angry growls, the sharp retorts, the acrid insults... She hadn't thought about it much before (the Fire Lord's daughter is always busy, after all), but sometimes...

...Azula always lies, Azula always lies, Azula always lies...

It hurt.

They once said that she was the strongest firebender in centuries; that her blue fire, control, lightning, and age made her unparalleled through the history books. At first, she'd been delighted to see her blue fire, to know she had created that and she truly was the best, but the novelty ended. The searing azure blaze, handled with such precision and skill, became nothing over time. Even her legendary feats became little but routine.

Of course, Zuko had always been too wrapped up in his own problems to notice hers (not that she'd wanted him to know about them, or care. It would have just been nice if he had. Not that it mattered). And that hasn't changed much. There's always been something for him to sulk about: Father, the Avatar, Father, Mai, Father, and his alliances were only a few back before the war ended. Now, being Fire Lord is his whine topic of choice. So, during one of his many visits, she stares intently at the wall, letting herself delve into memories while ignoring his shouts demanding her to turn around like so many times before. That's when she remembers his face. Guarded, angry, and tense - always ready to fight, and thinks quite dryly to herself, So this is love.

She had barely been able to restrain herself during their final fight, that bizarre need to laugh at the sight of him struck down tearing from her throat heedless to her rationale. She'd fought with a maniacal grin at first, enraged by his very presence and overjoyed at the thought of his burning flesh all at once. But then she'd ended up barring her teeth and recklessly crashing down attack after attack, even more infuriated that he was still fighting, still alive, and wouldn't go down and die like he should have. Then, she'd hit him, with the sweet, sweet crackling of her glorious lightning screaming as it hit. The floodgates had opened.

She still can't quite comprehend it: the frenzied panic and giddiness that had shot at her core right then as she (just for a moment) drank in his collapsed silhouette against her massive flames, twitching and curling into himself as the energy still coursed through his body. She could never explain the sensation: the inexplicable glee, the irresistible cackling, her normally cool, domineering logic screaming through the madness, WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME? With such a raw desperation... It had happened. She knows nothing else.

It's hard to remember - being chained to the same room day after day, seeing the same people, eating the same food - that time still passes and the world still turns. But they do, and life carries on. She is trapped and he is Fire Lord. He makes policies, travels about, meets foreign dignitaries, and goes about rebuilding the world. She is left alone with naught but her own musings and thoughts. And yet, in spite of (or perhaps because of) her isolation and dwellings, and the fact that there is nothing to do there but think, she eventually realizes two solid facts:

The first is something she's always known. Always known, but had hoped against. He doesn't love her. Yes, there might have been a time when he had, when Zuzu had really cared for her, but what he's doing now is not love. What he's doing now is observing a guilty obligation: he's only trying to help her now when her problems have so blatantly become so serious as a way to keep himself from feeling guilty later on and move on with his life. It's only because of his foolish sentimentality (that she so much despises) that he does this. Because in his naive, idealistic drivel, that's what older brothers have to do. And when (if) she gets better, he won't care again, as usual.

The second is that she can't trust him, something she'd always been very partial to trying (yes, he is an idiot, but he's an idiot you could count on). Even then, a year after his coronation and her incarceration, she turns away when he speaks, glowers at his back, turns her nose up at his hand, and refuses to say a word. They simply can't coexist, not with everything he's doing to hurt her. They're better off apart - distant. Because he - with his horribly shallow, black-and-white views on the world - will never understand.

He will never understand, and she will never forgive him.

I hope you enjoyed it, and that I didn't switch the tenses too much. Anyway, tell me if there are any spelling/grammar mistakes (except for my sister, she comments on that enough, thank you), and I'll get to fixing them. Reviews and feedback are, as always, extremely appreciated, so please review!