Chapter Text
Azula didn’t even know a person who practically only lives off vegetables, fruit and all the green parts in between, who spends ninety-nine percent of her free time outside or in some variety of sports venue could even get sick. −To be fair, Ty Lee virtually never does, or did . And even if she does, which is a rare enough occasion, or used to be, she would simply wrap herself in a three sizes too large scarf and consume waste amounts of ginger, in all possible forms known to men, and bounce back within a day and a good night’s sleep. So when the message comes she knows it’s serious. It has to be. You don’t call your ex, who you split rather unamicably with, after months of radio silence because you have a simple cold, even if no one else was available. Then again she is hardly an expert in these matters. Pointing out ‘normal’ behavior had always been Ty Lee’s part. She sighs.
‘ Hey Zula, I’m so sorry. I really don’t feel well. I think I have a fever. I don’t know who else to ask. Can you please come?’
She reads the message for what must be the hundredth time. She knows Mai and Zuko are out of town, Ty Lee's parents live far away, and Toph has told her Suki is at a tournament over the weekend. So it isn’t that far-fetched. Well, it kind of is. There are about a dozen more of the Kyoshi annoyances to go around, for a start. She supposes she would be finding out soon enough. Part of her doesn’t even know why she is there. The other part of course knows, but won’t admit it.
The old Lady living across the hall from Ty Lee regards her with a friendly smile, as she slowly hurries through the door of the elevator, just as Azula is mauling the close door button to prevent just that.
“Thank you, Dear.” she nonetheless thanks the younger woman inappropriately cheerfully, as if Azula actually held the door open for her, and all too casually makes herself comfortable next to the raven haired woman. Azula in turn only waves her hand dismissively, before crossing her arms in front of her body defensively again.
“You are Ty Lee’s friend.” the older woman establishes, still annoyingly friendly, prompting Azula’s nostrils to flare. “I haven’t seen you around in a while.” she adds matter-of-factly.
Azula inconspicuously turns her wrist, giving the watch she is wearing on the inside a quick look. One year, two months, seven days and thirty-seven minutes, she notes to herself, trying her best to not pay the fact too much mind, or the fact she is able to tell. − One year, two months, seven days and thirty-seven minutes since she said these unforgivable things to the only person that she ever believed could like her the way she is, and just walked away, not even waiting out her answer. − She nods. Barely.
“It’s good… you know...” the woman goes on unsolicitedly, and Azula must be losing her edge, because between her clearly visible scowl, the only half laced up combat boots, dark skinny jeans and the well fitting leather jacked with the wool hood over a plane tank and sports bra, the raven black, only barely neck length hair, not to mention the killer eyeliner, if she dares to say so herself, and the clearly visible tattoo crawling up her neck, this woman must either be blind or suicidal.
“...that you are visiting.” she announces with an agreeing nod.−Agreeing to herself . “Such a lovely young woman, living all by herself. She must be so lonely. You would think someone like her would be swamped with suitors.” she goes on, as Azula’s dark black nails begin to dig into her skin. She could probably slice her jugular if she aimed properly. There are no cameras in the elevator. One single, clean swipe. Maybe a nail might break, but that would be a small price to pay. Instead the younger woman exhales a loud, steadying breath and turns her other arm, gingerly pulling up her sleeve to reveal the black lines of a female form doing a cartwheel inside a simple circle on her forearm, still making sure the tattoo is hidden from the woman’s inquisitive gaze, as Azula’s eyes furtively flicker to it and back up.
She can feel the anger rise inside her. That anger, the frustration with human nature in others. She breathes again. A slow rhythm, trying to ground herself in it. She closes her eyes. The old woman keeps talking, clearly not caring either way. In her mind the words slowly turn into unintelligible hums. She can feel her heartbeat slow down. You would think it picks up in situations like these. But it’s not anxiety that takes her, not entirely, it’s an intrusive thought. − Murderous intent.
She tries to remember uncle’s words. Finding peace in a loud place. It helps, more often than not. She tries not to think about Ty Lee. It used to be her goto, but it doesn’t feel fair. And it wouldn’t be real. Not anymore.
Eventually the elevator reaches its destination, and Azula hastily steps outside the second the doors’ opening allows it, quasi running down the hall for a few steps, before finally coming to her senses again. Her heart is racing now. She feels like she is running from herself. That part of her. Calm down Azula, you are in control. It’s just a thought; There is a difference between thinking and acting. Then she’s suddenly standing in front of Ty Lee’s door.
She doesn’t actually know how long she's been standing there, staring at the spare key that has been diligently sitting in the small wooden bowl on top of her shoe rack all these months, completely untouched, and is snapped back to reality when Ty Lee’s neighbor eventually catches up to her. She can practically feel the old lady staring at the back of her head nosily. Maybe she has begun to wonder about it. Maybe she is just that kind of person. Annoying; Sticking her nose into things that are none of her business.
Another moment goes by, and Azula finally straightens out her posture, taking a deep breath. The door behind her falls shut with a bang she isn’t entirely sure isn’t a comment on her hesitance to provide insight beyond the door.
The inside is dark. Always has been. The space in front of the door, only an allusion to a hallway, is the part farthest away from the large windows that easily provide enough light to illuminate the living space beyond it.
“Ty Lee?” Azula calls out hesitantly as she discards her jacket there, immediately unable to tell if she actually said it out loud, and takes only a single step forward.
‘ Are you sure you want to go? I can send a friend of mine to look after her. He is a physician.’ Her uncle offered warmly. She hated it. The patronizing tone. His amicable, understanding smile.
‘ Yes. I am sure.’ Azula huffed and pointedly put on her jacket. ‘Unless you plan to stop me.’ she challenged.
‘ No. Of course not. I know what she means to you.’ Iroh softly shook his head at her insinuation, and made no effort to stand in her way or argue. He probably could if he wanted. Even at his advanced age, her pride aside, Azula didn’t know if she actually would be a match for him. But both of them knew very well that his guardianship had limits he wouldn’t cross unless absolutely necessary, he had told her right in the beginning, and has stood by it ever since.
‘ That’s over a long time now.’ Azula replied coldly, shooting the old man a hostile look.
‘ Why are you going then?’ He pointed out unfazed by her gesture.
The words ring in her mind over and over again. Of course there is the obvious. But is it? Everyone telling her she isn’t that person anymore, feels more like a well rehearsed act at times. Save for uncle who tries to not look at her like that anymore, Kiyi, who for reasons beyond her adores her, and her mother, who constantly cozies up to her like nothing happened, and well, she doesn’t like to admit it, Toph, who never has not treated her like a person, hardly any of them treat her like she is normal. Like all the things she has done are in the past, as they like to tell her. That she, no less than the rest of the world is a mere victim of her father’s cruelty. The greatest lie ever told to her face.
“I am here.” eventually comes the meek reply, and for a second Azula is petrified. The other woman’s voice, usually clear and cheerful as a nightingale, is small and sickly. She rounds the corner beyond the bathroom door that has hidden the larger part of the apartment from her, and finds the shorter woman lying in the middle of her large bed, surrounded by the usual obnoxious, pastel and pink colored cushions and stuffed animals, but balled together and wrapped in what looks like the entirety of every larger piece of fabric she owns. Blankets, sweaters and from the single foot sticking out from under no less than three pairs of socks and at least two sweatpants.
“Ty Lee!” is the only thing Azula manages at the sight. A moment later the pile stirs, and the brunette’s head appears. Her hair is disheveled, her skin pale, all the usual life and cheerfulness seemingly drained from it. Her eyes are small, barely open. There is an emotion rising inside of her. Diffuse. Unwelcome, as it tries to yank control from her.
“Hey, Azula.” Ty Lee replies sheepishly, then coughs heavily. It looks like she tries to sit up but fails, instead at least rolling to her side and putting her body into a more orderly pose.
“What happened? Are you alright?” Azula inquires worriedly. Forgotten are the things previously on her mind. Her reservations. Her doubts. She worries about Ty Lee. Without another word the taller woman crosses the space between them and kneels down next to the bed. Their eyes meet up close for the first time in over a year.
“Sorry.” Ty Lee replies instead of answering the question. “I really shouldn’t have...” The words prompt the raven haired woman to put her hand to her forehead.
“You are burning.” She assesses seriously, holding the brunette’s gaze until she actually falters and won’t hold it anymore.
“It’s not that bad.” Ty Lee argues immediately. “But the shivers...” she adds, and as on cue her whole body shakes involuntarily.
“Unless you developed firebending, I would disagree. How long have you been like this?” Azula follows up calmly, but the emotion rises inside of her again. Knowing Ty Lee she probably waited at least a day before even considering herself seriously sick. And from the fact that they haven’t so much as spoken in over a year, another before she called her.
“I woke up with a headache yesterday morning. But it’s been getting worse. Last night was really bad, that’s why I texted you.” the shorter woman admits meekly.
“You should have called earlier.” Azula admonishes instinctively. There is a certain sense of irony to it, she knows. “I am going to get you some water and make tea.” she informs the other woman, and without hesitation makes her way to the small kitchen space on the opposite side of the room. She isn’t quite sure what she feel right now. From the few words they have spoken, the little expressions on either of their faces, there is this quiet understanding forming between them, to simply act as if literally nothing has happened between them. Quite literally ‘ Nothing ’. She rubs her hand over the now clearly visible tattoo on her forearm again, then fills the kettle with water. It’s another irony of her life, she supposes, a master firebender heating tea not with her hands, but in a kettle, because her uncle would be disappointed in her if she didn’t.
After a few moments of silently staring at the wall in front of her, she allowed her mind to wander. − The apartment is small but by no means unbefitting Ty Lee’s rank. The building had been recently renovated when they… She moved in, and her parents are, although not royalty, by no means indigent. It was quite pleasant, south facing, and she had always liked it here. In these walls she always felt different, far away from the reality they had inadvertently sacrificed their teenage years to.
Her eyes trail to Ty Lee’s reflection in the kettle's polished metal surface. A memory crosses her mind. She is carrying Ty Lee who has her legs thrown around her waist and throws them both on the surface of the bed. Her past self was surprised Ty Lee didn’t let go. She was on top but by no means in control. A memory exemplary for that past. In hindsight there are more things in which the brunette is at least her equal than not. She just wouldn’t see it when she was younger, when her ambition to live up to her father’s expectations was all she could see.
The water eventually boils and she brews a cup of the tea uncle had wordlessly handed her with it. She fetches a water bottle from under the sink, where Ty Lee apparently is still keeping them, and returns to her patient’s bedside.
“Here.” She says evenly, handing her the bottle. “Drink, while the tea steeps at little. Wouldn’t want your lips to get chapped.” She adds, seeing the less than enthusiastic expression on the brunette’s face. The words are forced, almost completely humorless, but the comment elicits a little smile.
“Thank you.” Ty Lee replies gingerly and eagerly empties the bottle. Another shiver runs down her body accompanied by a cough.
“You smell sick.” Azula establishes calmly. There is no animosity in her voice, just a vaguely disapproving tone. She had noticed the moment she got closer. “And you are sweaty. Why didn’t you call for a doctor instead?”
“Sorry...” Ty Lee begins again, but is silenced by Azula only so slightly narrowing her eyes at her. Faltering under Azula’s piercing gaze. − As so often.
“Do you think you’ll manage to get out of bed for a moment and take a shower?” she inquires seriously instead of pressing her again.
“I don’t know.” the shorter woman replies honestly, her tired eyes giving her a defeated look.
“Okay.” Azula surprisingly replies. There is this softness to her eyes that Ty Lee has really missed. A small detail seemingly only she is able to see. “But you have to get out of the blanket pile. And I am at least going to get you a fresh set of clothes.” Azula all but orders in her Azula voice again. Her words make a little color return to the other woman’s face for a moment.
“I can turn around...” Azula says a little sheepishly at that, breaking contact and retracting her hand from where it, unbeknownst to both of them, had been holding Ty Lee’s. Both their eyes briefly rest on the previous point of contact. It’s one of these moments. They are immeasurably hard for Azula; When her guard fails. Falls on its own. She meets them with rejection, hardness. Naturally her expression turns stoic again.
It ends up being a little bit of an ordeal, but Ty Lee relents and lets Azula put new sheets onto her bed and renew her bedding, a thing either of them would have thought an impossible occurrence barely a decade ago, while the brunette washes up quickly and changes out of her sweat drenched clothes. Azula even manages to prepare another tea for her before she returns, tiredly shuffling back to bed. She feels a little better now though. Maybe Azula’s presence is helping. Having the taller woman around, if only as a… friend, and even with the past hanging over them, still undeniably makes her feel safe .− Safe in a way she hasn’t felt in months.
“The hair looks good on you.” She can’t resist the temptation. When they last saw each other Azula’s hair had still been long, almost all the way down her back. Now there was so little she would hardly be able to make it into a ponytail. It really suits her. And she is very grateful for her help, so she compliments her. The woman sitting at her bedside practically freezes for a moment, eyes finding hers, giving her a certain, pleading look, begging her to not say anything else. Sadness quickly settles on Ty Lee’s tired face.
“Thank you. I thought… I was in the mood for a little change.” Azula replies nonetheless, as another shiver runs down the brunette’s body.
“You can’t go on like this.” the raven haired woman announces sternly, although worry noticeably coloring the sharpness of her voice. There is a moment, a thought forming between the two of them. Ty Lee can see it in Azula’s eyes; They are thinking the same. And it’s a bad idea. A really bad idea.
“What if you get sick too?” Ty Lee argues intuitively, even though it occurs to her, that what damage could be done would be done by now.
“I won’t.” Azula gives back. “I can go up to as much as sixty degrees without doing any notable damage to myself. I am practically immune.” There is this determination on her face. As if she had just announced they are going to conquer Ba Sing Se.
“Are you sure?”
“ I am. And if you are not better by tomorrow, you will see a physician.” There it is again, the Azula voice. Another little smile passes Ty Lee’s face, and she nods agreeing to the terms.
She can’t help but close her eyes as Azula begins to unbutton her pants. It’s kind of silly, she thinks. As short-lived their romantic entanglement may have been, they have such an intimate knowledge of each other’s bodies. But it would feel wrong to not give her privacy. She feels Azula’s weight dropping onto the bed a moment later, and can’t resist the temptation. Her bare legs are as toned as ever and there is a new tattoo on her thigh. In one of the previously empty spaces next to the twists of the blue dragon tattoo resides a picture of her little sister as a toddler. Her eyes inadvertently trail up the inside of her leg until they find the little pink lotus flower that mirrors the blue one on the inside of her own. Warmth begins to creep onto her face again, and she averts her eyes, now nervously waiting for Azula’s weight to settle next to her.
“Scoot.” the taller woman’s voice instructs and Ty Lee obliges, lifting the blanket and rolling to her side, facing away from Azula. A moment later Azula’s arm snakes under her and she is suddenly held against the firebender’s body. −Like they used to before. The other woman’s body is warmer than any layer of fabric could ever be, and she nestles further against it, seeking out the touch of her skin and its warmth. Azula so naturally hooks her legs around hers and an entirely different shiver runs down Ty Lee’s body.
“Is this better?” the raven haired woman inquires calmly. Ty Lee only nods in silence. They lay there for a while. Neither of them speak a word, save for the stray cough from the brunette. Ty Lee is still very well noticeably struggling, unconsciously causing the other woman to pull her closer, hold her tighter. It’s a good thing Ty Lee is completely over that, the past, otherwise she might get herself into a situation for Katara to admonish her over. And the waterbender was right, in a sense. Despite her overt ‘objections’ to Azula’s general person, she had never not considered Ty Lee’s feelings in her advice. No. This is an emergency, nothing more. She simply called the only person she could. (Well, besides an actual physician, but that’s beside the point)
“ Princess? ” She says weakly. Her voice already sounds a little less sickly, although the word feels heavy on her tongue. The other woman’s warmth is completely surrounding them now.
“ Mhmmm .” Azula hums from behind her, if she is taking offense from her title, she isn’t showing it, but Ty Lee can feel her grip tighten around her center again. There is a comfortable feeling of contentedness drowning out the brunette’s discomfort, and her tired body only now succumbs to her exhaustion, so the answer never comes; Replaced by a steady stream of faintly rattling breaths.
Ty Lee wakes to the chirping of birds outside. Before she can regain a sense of herself, she becomes strangely painfully aware that she is alone in her bed. In lieu of the other woman’s body, tightly wrapped in a few layers of her blankets, and apparently holding her favorite stuffed animal she doesn’t remember picking up the other day.
The air is filled with the faint but pleasant smell of tea, despite her unreasonable disappointment she is alone, getting her to open her eyes. From the brightness inside the room the sun must already be approaching its zenith, and she has to flutter her eyes to acclimate to the light. She tilts her eyes towards the kitchen and as predicted finds the tea pot resting on the stone warmer Azula’s uncle had gifted her.
“Azula?” she inquires futilely into the void that is her apartment.− She can obviously tell Azula’s aura is gone. She tries to regain a sense of herself beyond the warmth surrounding her and the sting in her heart. Her sinuses are still hurting a little and her bronchia feel sour, but the fever is gone, −she can easily tell− and she has no immediate need to cough building up, even though she is sweaty from the night. A sad smile passes her face. Azula must have left in the morning, after she stopped shivering in her sleep. It’s only fair, she reasons with herself.
She doesn’t know what she expected, truly. Calling her was a desperate measure to begin with. Entirely stemming from the fact that she was too proud to admit defeat. Or so she tells herself. She spins around in her spot, throwing away a layer of fabric around herself and sitting up in her spot. There is a fresh bottle of water sitting on her nightstand. Because of course it is. The empty ones are gone, as are the myriad tissues and all the other evidence of the severity of her sickness. The ‘Azula side’ of her bed is made to a tee. As if she had never been there. And if it wasn’t for the tea, Ty Lee would question if she hadn’t simply been delirious.
She barely resists the impulse to wallow in the past. Their past . They have been friends for so long she doesn’t remember the time before. Then they weren’t. Then the war ended, and they were. Well, some version of that. Some semblance of what most people would call close. And then they ended up in bed. Because that’s what it had been. Mostly . And walks on the promenade. And talks in the middle of the night. And admissions of feelings. And then they weren't again. Her heart aches at the thought.
No. It’s probably for the best. She shakes the feeling, pushes it back to her mind. She should thank her though, she reasons with herself again; Her fingers hover over the call button next to the word ‘princess’, but then she puts her phone away.