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“Why do you care if I’m safe?” She demands. She almost sounds angry about it. Angry to have someone who cares about her, someone who could be worried about her. And Sokka admits that he almost does let it deter him. Afterall, she is right. Why should he care? After everything that she’s put his sister and his friends though. After what she put he and Suki through.Why should he care, especially when she is snubbing him right now while he is trying to care.
It is something in her eyes.
That is what stops him from throwing up his hands and telling her that she’s right, he doesn’t care and he shouldn’t.
Something in her eyes that says she is afraid.
Afraid to be cared about.
Afraid to let someone care about here.
Something in her eyes that says that she is confused.
Confused about how to handle a helping hand.
Confused, genuinely so, as to why anyone would care.
Her tone is hateful but Sokka is certain that Azula really does want to know why he cares about her safety. At first all he can say is, “because no one else does.” A bad answer, he knows that even without her reply.”
“Clearly…” She mutters. Her voice is as flat as ever but he can still hear the hurt in her voice. She has come to some sort of resigned acceptance that the closest she will come to having friends is a gaggle of people that invite her to dinner because she has been fighting their battles for them.
Today’s battle is a small team of assassins that have been after Zuko for some time. She has already taken down several of them; their capture had led to the relaying of crucial information. Details of the assassination plan that is going to be put into action tomorrow. And Sokka doesn’t think that this group particularly cares which royal they take down so long as they’ve got blood on their hands and an example to make of the body.
.oOo.
She supposes that she’d rather run the risk of death than spend a lifetime in a cell alongside father. At this point she has grown rather fond of the extremely high risk endeavors, they offer her, her best chance for peace. Her best chance for a blissful, merciful nothingness. The kind that will wrap around her and caress her body as it pulls under and away.
Away from everything that hurts her.
That will always hurt her and haunt her and torment her.
Right now the source of her torment has blue eyes and the beginnings of a scruffy beard. Evidently this has been the source for the past few days. He is always yammering away about stupid things and telling ridiculous stories that she doesn’t care about.
He tells her dumb jokes that aren’t funny.
Now he is pretending to be concerned so he won’t have to feel as guilty when she finally makes her way to that nothingness.
When she finally dies.
“You’re not so bad.” He tries again. “I actually like talking to you.”
She furrows her brows, she can’t imagine why he would enjoy it. “Talking at me, more like.”
He rubs the back of his head. “Yeah, I guess.” He pauses. “You’re the only person who hasn’t told me to shut up.”
“I’ve been trying to signal it with my eyes.”
Although she isn’t trying to be funny, he laughs. “You’re the only person who actually listens. And don’t tell me that you don’t. I’m used to people zoning out in the middle of my stories. You actually pay attention, I bet that you can tell me exactly what I was telling you about three days ago.”
“Submarine infrastructure.” She mutters against her better judgment. “How Water Tribe submarines differ from Fire Nation ones and the pros and cons of both.”
“Exactly.” He is beaming now. She is not used to people look so cheerful over something that she has said.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You asked me why I care if you’re safe.” He shrugs. “I care because I like talking to you. I also enjoy having you around for dinner.” He is dancing around the word ‘friend’. Not that he would consider her to be anything of the sort.
“There are plenty of other people who you can talk to, Sokka. Maybe they aren’t as attentive but they’re more pleasant conversationalists.” She tapers off into a sigh. There is a stirring in her tummy, a depressive little tickle.
“You’re not just some…some guard dog.” He sputters.
They could have fooled her. She knows that they have been feeding her metaphorical table scraps. They pet her and treat her when she does well and kick her when she doesn’t even if it isn’t in a physical sense.
Evidently she doesn’t even think that they realize that they are doing it.
That they treat her not dissimilarly to how father always has.
Especially Zuko.
Zuko who is so proud of himself for not turning out like his father.
“I guess that it feels that way sometimes.” Sokka’s voice falls. He finds himself a seat next to her, shoulder hunched, posture slouched–exactly the opposite of how she holds herself. “It’s okay to feel heavy sometimes. It’s okay to show it.” He says. And then he clarifies, “You don’t always have to sit so tall.”
“Perhaps I find this position comfortable.” Even if it is only by familiarity.
“I don’t think that you’re just some kind of weapon.”
She doesn’t believe him.
“You don’t have to do this, you know? I’ll tell them that I wouldn’t let you or that I wanted to handle it because I needed to feel useful.” He offers. “Sometimes I do that, you know? I can’t bend and so sometimes it feels like I’m not as cool or important. So sometimes I do dumb things…”
“Sometimes?”
“So that I can feel like I’m as strong as everyone else.”
Azula shrugs. “What do you need bending and strength for? You have something better.”
“Better?”
She gives his head a good tap. “You’ve got more brains than all of them put together. They can master all the bending forms that they’d like, build as much muscle as they can. It won’t matter so long as you plan adequately.”
Sokka smiles. “See, this is why I like you.” He pauses. “You don’t give compliments very much…”
“That wasn’t a compliment it was a…”
“That’s what makes it mean so much when you do. Even if you decide to pretend like you weren’t giving compliments.” He has the audacity to take her hand. “I don’t think that you’re as cruel as everyone says, you wouldn’t be such a good listener if you were.”
She stares at her palm and at her hand in his. She considers shaking his grip away.
“Just because you have a past doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t get a future.”
And she cracks.
She doesn’t want to but she does.
That armor that he has been steadily chipping away at is finally crumbled beyond use.
Her breath hitches and she grits her teeth so to stifle the sob that wants to come forward. She swallows it down, though the tears are burning behind her eyes. She lets him rub her back.
“It’s alright.” He assures. “You can just let it out. I think that you need to. I won’t tell anyone. As long as you don’t tell anyone that I’m also going to cry.”
“Why would you cry, Sokka?”
“Because it just so happens that today is one of those days where I really wish that I could have bending so I wouldn’t just be the ‘idea guy’.”
.oOo.
He is surprised to find that she doesn’t tell him that that’s stupid and that he should be grateful that they think he is the brains of the group. Maybe it is simply because he has caught her in a vulnerable moment…maybe it is because they are both having one, but she pulls him into her arms and brushes her fingers through his hair.
She doesn’t say anything at all, but he can feel the care in her gestures.
Can feel the affection.
He knows that she isn’t as heartless as everyone makes her out to be, not when these small comforting gestures seem to come very naturally to her. Naturally, when she needs the comfort more than anyone else.
Not that he also can’t use some comfort. He isn’t just the idea guy, he is also the shoulder to cry on. The tough guy who listens to everyone’s problems and solves them.
Just like he was trying to do for Azula.
Azula who has very much redirected his efforts and taken it upon herself to try to ease his pain.
He thinks that somehow it is soothing for her to be consoling him.
Maybe it makes her feel less like a monster, maybe it helps her to remind herself that she is a human being filled with all of those emotions that people insist she is devoid of.
“You know what else bothers me?” He asks.
“What bothers you?” She murmurs. He is glad for the soft and subtle quality of her voice. A voice that is so level now, he knows that she has managed to once again bury her own need to cry.
“I lose a lot of people I love and care about. I lost my mom and Yue and…I guess that’s not actually a lot.”
Azula shrugs. “One dead person is a lot, Sokka.”
“I don’t want to lose another.”
“I’m not going to let Zuko die. Or Katara. Or any of those idiots.”
“I’m not talking about those idiots!” He replies in a near shout.
Azula snickers.
“I’m talking about you .”
.oOo.
Azula swallows, “me?”
“Believe it or not, I care about you.”
The stroking of her hand comes to a halt. Surely just listening to his silly stories isn’t that profound. Really it is just a common courtesy. Yet he seems to really cherish that. She inhales through her nose. “Does it really bother you that much that I’m going to take this mission?”
“Yes!” He exclaims. “I know that there’s a better way to take this organization down. Sure it’s easier to just let you go in and do you thing. Take all of the damage that you usually take.” It isn’t lost on her that his eyes have locked on the scars that decorate her arms. The same sort that cover nearly every inch of her back and abdomen. The scars that keep piling up and up to the point where she is beginning to have trouble recognizing her own body. “It’ll take more time and planning but they don’t have to keep throwing you into the line of fire.”
Azula shrugs. “It’s alright, Sokka. I’m used to it. If they didn’t, father would be.”
He takes her hands and squeezes them very tightly. “But it’s not alright. You shouldn’t be used to that.”
She takes another shaky breath. The man really is pushing her to tears, she thinks that he might just be doing it on purpose. Maybe if she just gets it over with he will let her move on with her day and move on with her tasks.
And maybe that is exactly what would have happened if Zuko and his merry band of morons hadn’t decided to come home from their afternoon of tomfoolery early. She shouldn’t have allowed him to convince her to cry. Especially not out here in the middle of the fucking palace garden of all places.
She definitely shouldn’t have allowed him to coax her into leaning against him for a change.
Because now they are looking at her differently.
They are looking at her with pity and disgust.
They are looking at her like she is weak.
Sokka assures her that they are looking at her with empathy. That they are finally looking at her as a human being rather than something expandable. That might be reassuring if she believed him.
.oOo.
It doesn’t take nearly as much convincing as he had anticipated now that they have happened upon her crying. Of course, Azula is furious with him, insisting very adamantly that he’d done that on purpose, that he had set her up to be caught. He’ll let her be mad at him because they are finally reconsidering their plans.
“Don’t write her out of them.” He mentions. “Let her work with us, not for us.”
“Sokka, you just said that you didn’t want her fighting.”
“I don’t.” He confirms. “But I know that she’ll take it the wrong way if we have her stay home. Let her take the lead, she likes doing that.” It’ll make her feel as powerful and strong as she likes to feel but she’ll have some support. People to make sure that she doesn’t acquire anymore painful scars.
“Alright, we’ll come up with a new plan and…” Zukok starts.
“I already came up with one.” Sokka cuts him off. “That’s my job, remember. I’m the idea guy.” Maybe one day they’ll catch that hint of bitter in his voice. At least this time, he is alright with being the idea guy. “I’m going to run it by Azula and let her polish things out. She’s amazing with details. I don’t know why you don’t let her make the plans. She can accomplish everything that needs to be done without getting hurt all the time.” He declares.
It is then that he notices her figure propped up against one of the throne room pillars. He wonders how long she has been lurking for. Having noticed that she’d been noticed, Azula slips away from the pillar and wanders toward him.
She looks much smaller without all of that armor. Or maybe it is how long the sleeves of her robes are. Or the way that her hair frames her face. And yet those eyes burn with a ferocity to match the bold personality within.
He takes her hand, it is soft and smooth and warm. “I think that between the two of us we’ll come up with a way to keep the assassins from getting to you and take care of them once and for all.” He pauses. “Without risking Azula’s life.”
She is terribly quiet but he realizes that she is holding his hand back. Apparently she isn’t so angry with him after all.
“That would be ideal.” Zuko replies as though this is the first time that he has actually truly considered that it might be better for everyone to try to make Azula feel cared for.
Perhaps this mission won’t be full of love and fluff and team spirit. But it will be a start. And maybe, in due time, he won’t have to be the only one making all of the plans. Maybe, in due time, Azula’s scars will have a chance to heal. Maybe, in due time, the both of them will get the comfort they crave.