Chapter Text
“With all due respect, my lord… I’m not exactly sure what you’re hoping to get out of this.”
Zuko suppressed the urge to let out an exasperated sigh, knowing the gesture would only strengthen the doctor’s resolve. Not that he could blame her. In many ways, the suggestion sounded completely insane even to himself, though he felt… strangely determined.
“It’s not that complicated, is it? I’ve known her for pretty much all my life. You of all people should understand I’m best positioned to help her.”
He saw her look and realized she had picked up on the defensiveness in his voice as well. Too bad. When it came to his little sister, it was hard not to feel that way… even though, granted, she was an unhinged psychopath.
“That much I agree with,” the doctor conceded, “though surely you’ll understand that, all things considered, your request is… curious. You didn’t want to have her incarcerated because you thought it would have been more dangerous. Fair enough, there’s sense in that, but… to personally involve yourself in her treatment, my lord? Even after she made an attempt on your life? After she’s shown no commitment whatsoever to even trying to be a better person?”
He let the words sink in before replying. “That’s exactly why I’m suggesting I should be involved. I appreciate all you’ve been doing to help her, doctor, but… none of you know her the way I do. I think having a personal connection is really what she needs to finally start making some progress.”
Left unspoken was the twisted logic behind that reason—he didn’t doubt that she would be more responsive to him than to any of her psychiatrists, but only because she had a better mapping of his buttons. Or thought she did, he corrected himself. He was stronger now. Better.
The doctor seemed to differ.
“True as that might be, it would be wise not to let familial attachments cloud sound judgement,” she said, pausing for a short-tempered response, which he only barely swallowed back. “She would take advantage of your good grace the moment she saw the opportunity.”
He didn’t bother to argue the statement, knowing she was absolutely right. But there was a kind of defeatism in her assessment that didn’t sit quite right with him. It wasn’t too long ago that people would have said the same about him; that he couldn’t be saved, doomed to grow up as irredeemably vile and wicked as his father. It was only because of the intervention of good people—those who, in spite of everything, had still seen some good in him—that he’d been pulled back from that abyss.
She deserved that chance, too.
“Believe me, I’ve had my fair share of sleepless nights thinking this over,” he said. “But my mind is set. It’s just something I have to do.”
The doctor looked like she was going to say something else, seemed to think better of it, and finally nodded. After all, in the end there was little else she could do; he was the Fire Lord and his word was to be obeyed. One of the few aspects of the job he’d found easier to get used to.
Which wasn’t to say that he was entirely comfortable with his own decision. It was hard not to think of it as yet another naive denial of their shared lineage, as if they had not been raised to slit each other’s throats from the moment they were born. Yet he refused to believe that was their destiny. He’d never been fully accepting of the path Ozai had attempted to put them both on, and he’d managed to escape his grasp eventually. Plus, for better or worse, he liked to believe that deep down Azula harbored the same kind of attachment he felt to her—buried beneath years of nurtured narcissism and resentment, no doubt, but there had to be something there.
And for now, that hope was enough.
“Take me to see her,” he said.