Lesson to novice fanficcers out there – don't begin writing on an empty stomach, or certain scenes will be inordinately focused on food.

That aside, this fic is an "excerpt" from a post-series Freedom Fighters fic I've worked on, off-and-on, for nearly a year now. I highly doubt it will come together in any reasonable amount of time, so when the Muse handed me what I thought would be just a short and silly little omake, I wrote it out. Unfortunately, it morphed into something that, if I ever do write the fic, will become one of the chapters near the middle. (sweatdrop)

Basic Premise: Four years after the end of the Hundred Years War, the Fire Nation has retained about half its colonies in the Earth Kingdom, as the burden of transferring governing authority and resources would be too difficult in those areas where Fire Nation colonials have lived for over three generations without serious and on-going negotiations under the aegis of Avatar Aang.

In the meantime, owing to the neglect and subsequent collapse of the Earth King's city, many of the smaller kingdoms and principalities in the Earth Kingdom have become autonomous states, which quickly have begun their own small border wars in order to consolidate control of their own territories, or simply just to expand.

Because of this new atmosphere of internal stability, mercenaries and adventure-seekers are living the high life, traveling from kingdom to kingdom, hiring out their services. Merchants with any wealth or long-distance trade interests also hire these independent agents to guard caravans or their own persons.

Freedom Fighters as Mercenaries: After Jet's death, Smellerbee became the new leader of the Freedom Fighters. After leading them in the rebellion of Ba Sing Se and the final battle in the Fire Nation, she dissolved the group, letting everyone choose their own life. Longshot, Sneers, Pipsqueak, and the Duke all elected to stick with her. Very soon, Smellerbee discovered that their various talents for war could still serve them, and the Freedom Fighters were reborn as the Akamori Free Fighters. (Akamori "Red Forest," in reference to the old bastion of the Freedom Fighters). The Akamori mercenaries are a small crew, but they come highly recommended for warlords who need a fast and accurate reconnaissance team or merchants requiring competent and reliable guards.

Smellershot(?): You'll see how that's doing in the story! So, please do enjoy the tale, but do not expect to get the full story anytime soon!

Ages: Smellerbee: 16; Longshot: 19; Sneers: 22; Pipsqueak: 23; the Duke: 11

Encouragement

---

"So, when exactly are you going to get around to it?"

"Get around to what?" Longshot asked, startled out of his own thoughts. He supposed he should be used to it by now – Sneers's habit of literally launching into the middle of conversations he had been having into his head was nothing new. What made all the more irritating, this time at least, was the smug, knowing smirk spreading across his wind-burned cheeks.

"You know what I'm talking about," he replied unhelpfully, ebony eyes twinkling in the lantern-light.

Longshot was tired – they had force-marched nearly twenty miles that day to reach the small village, only to discover that their client had not yet arrived. After making known to everyone in the near vicinity of her displeasure, Smellerbee had gone off to make use of the public bath, leaving the rest of them to find their own way about accommodations for the night at the only inn in the village. He had not even had a chance to eat his dinner, and here Sneers was goading him with a riddle.

"I wouldn't have asked if I did," Longshot returned, picking up his chopsticks and dipping them into his steaming udon bowl.

"Fine, be like that," said Sneers, trying to sound put out, but Longshot could plainly hear the amusement in his voice. The older man loved nothing more than goading people for sheer entertainment, and it seemed that tonight just was not Longshot's night.

"Hn," Longshot grunted, slurping down some noodles. The broth was garlicky and spicy, just the way he liked, and he was glad that the cook was not one to skimp on the meat. 'It was worth coming here just for the food, even if the client doesn't show…'

Sneers had finished his own meal, but he did not seem inclined to moving away just yet. "So… when another guy comes along and whisks our precious Bee off, you're still going to be content to sit there stuffing noodles into your face?"

Longshot choked, splashing broth and nearly inhaling a bit of onion.

"Oh, so you do care," Sneers noted blandly, ignoring Longshot's murderous glare, "Good to know."

"Sneers, what the hell…?!"

"We got a room on the second floor," Pipsqueak announced (to the whole of the common room – the concept of "indoor voice" rather much escaped him), grinning broadly, "That means we got a pretty view."

"Hm, lovely – thanks for telling everyone," Sneers replied, the sarcasm flying somewhere in the stratosphere over Pipsqueak's head. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to eat all of that?

Pipsqueak looked down at his heavily-laden tray in puzzlement. "Of course not."

The Duke popped up from behind him, an equally stacked tray making him lean forward slightly under the weight. "He promised to split the tempura with me," the boy tacked on with a wink, "I going back for some soba – want any?"

"No thanks – but order me one of those desserts, will you?" said Sneers as Pipsqueak and the Duke set their trays on the group's small table.

The old boards creaked ominously.

"Sure – gimme the money for it," the Duke replied, holding his hand out.

"What, you don't expect me to pay you back?" Sneers demanded in an offended tone.

The Duke rolled his eyes. "Duh."

Sneers frowned, but fished out his money satchel, passing two bronze coins to the Duke. The boy smirked and scampered off back to the order window.

"I swear by the spirits, if the boy is that annoying now, he's going to be a real pain in the ass when he becomes a teenager," Sneers muttered to himself.

"But you were just complaining the other day how much you couldn't wait for him to grow up and stop being a little brat," Pipsqueak pointed out, taking the bench opposite Sneers and Longshot and picking up his chopsticks.

Sneers grimaced. "Why is it that you can remember the intimate details of some nonsensical conversation we had a week ago and not the basic principles of table manners?" he retorted disdainfully, sniffing at the way Pipsqueak sprawled his elbows across the table, as if to guard his massive pile of dinner from chance food-snatchers.

"Manners? I don't need no stinking manners," Pipsqueak replied testily, stuffing nearly an entire futomaki into his mouth.

Sneers winced.

"What were you guys talking about earlier?" the large man asked, spraying bits of rice, carrot, mushroom and egg over his friends, "Longshot, you seem kinda tense."

"I wonder why," Longshot replied, with a pointed glare at Sneers.

"We were discussing our worthy bow-master's inability to take the spear out of his ass and propose to our Dear Leader," Sneers answered, delicately flicking at the bits of food that had adhered themselves to his clothes.

"Ooooohhh…" Pipsqueak chewed and swallowed, his gaze resting on Longshot knowingly. "Yeah, you really gotta get around to that, buddy."

"What are you…?!?" Longshot flared, spurred out of his customary stoicism by a temper worn thin by stress and Sneers's evasive jabs.

"What'd I miss?" The Duke had returned with his steaming bowl of soba and Sneer's dessert, a small block of shimmering white gelatin with some sort of dark red syrup drizzled over it.

"Longshot's too pig-chicken to ask Bee to marry him," Pipsqueak summarized, starting in on his large order of tempura.

"Yeah – seriously, Longshot, you wait too long, she's going to get frustrated. And you know what happens when Smellerbee gets frustrated," the boy warned ominously, sliding in beside Pipsqueak and seemingly oblivious to the waves of killing energy radiating from the archer. "Hey, quit eating all the good ones and leaving me the sweet potatoes! I hate sweet potatoes!"

"You know better than any of us how short a temper Smellerbee has," Sneers continued, blithely ignoring the escalating chopstick battle across the table.

The other patrons of the dining room were more or less quietly withdrawing to leave the table with the bickering giant and his dangerous-looking friends to themselves.

Sneers spooned some gelatin into his mouth, savoring the sweetness. "You've been as close as two people can ever be for what… nearly a decade now? You've fought together, saved each others' lives I don't know how many times…"

"Bee's saved him more times," the Duke interjected, not looking up from his campaign against Pipsqueak to claim the last deep-fried river-prawn, "She saved him at least seven. Ha!" The Duke crunched victoriously on the fresh-water crustacean, while Pipsqueak pouted.

"Saving her life three times isn't so bad," Pipsqueak offered, pretending to lose interest in the tempura, but edging his chopsticks toward the remaining mushroom cluster, "But Longshot – you're going to have to catch up if you wanna impress her."

"Since when you been keeping score on how many times who has saved who?!" Longshot sputtered abandoning his chopsticks and glaring at his dining companions. More importantly… "What does it matter anyway?! Why do you think Smellerbee would ever consider…?!"

Sneers jabbed him in the chest with his dessert spoon. "Do not bring that up," he said flatly, "Bringing up Jet as an excuse for your cowardice is disgraceful. Good gods, man, Smellerbee looked up to Jet as her older brother!"

Longshot opened his mouth, only to earn another hard poke in the sternum. "Quit it!" he snarled, batting Sneers's hand away.

"Yes, Bee lead us into the Fire Nation during the War because of Jet, yes, Jet's memory is what she invokes when she wants us to go along with a plan we don't approve of," Sneers battered on, not giving Longshot a proverbial inch, "But dammit, can't you see?!? 'Jet' is an idea, something she aspires to – he's as much a spirit to her as her mother. You're the only one she's ever trusted her life with, you're the only oneshe's waiting for!"

Longshot gaped. He had often been on the receiving end of Sneers' rhetorical broadsides, but this… this was the verbal equivalent of a day-long artillery bombardment.

Sneers narrowed his eyes and looked away. "Honestly, how could you be so willfully blind?" He stabbed his spoon into the remnant of the gelatin, nearly breaking the delicate bowl.

"Sneers, are you…?" Longshot hesitated, noting the way Sneers's massive shoulders tensed. 'If there's a time to be silent, this is it,' he realized, 'But…' "I'm sorry," he ventured, after several long moments, "Seems like you understand more than you let on."

Sneers snorted, apparently absorbed in chasing the last bits of dessert with his spoon, scraping his spoon against the glazed surface of the bowl. "Of course I do – otherwise, all you idiots would have been killed off long ago." He shoved the rest of the gelatin into his mouth.

Longshot smiled, lowering the brim of his hat so that the other could not see his eyes. 'Sometimes, it's rather annoying to have a family that knows you so well… other times…'

Pipsqueak and the Duke, who had been watching the scene like theater spectators waiting for the protagonist to get assassinated, sighed with relief.

"Soooo…" Pipsqueak began hesitantly, "Does that mean Longshot's going to ask Bee to marry him?"

"Tch, a person can't just ask a girl like Smellerbee to marry them," the Duke retorted knowingly, crossing his arms and shooting Longshot a significant Look, "Not when she's saved his butt more times than he has."

"Good point," Sneers agreed, former grimness apparently forgotten as he shoved his elbow into Longshot's ribs, "Something like this, you need advice from a man who has mastered the art of handling women."

"And you are such a man?" Longshot returned smartly.

"Well, he and Skillet did get along pretty well," Pipsqueak pointed out thoughtfully.

The Duke giggled and Sneers literally turned red. "FOR THE LAST TIME, WE WERE FRIENDS, YOU IDIOTIC, INNUENDO-SEEKING LITTLE TWITS!!!" he bellowed, making the dishes on the table clatter.

The innkeeper, who had been about to ask that the group of young men go to their room so as to allow other patrons to return to their meals, wisely decided to retreat to the kitchen to await further developments.

"I guess that means I can't rely on you for advice," Longshot said with a grin, enjoying a joke at another's expense for the first time that night.

Sneers made a quiet "harrumph"-ing noise while glaring at the Duke and Pipsqueak, who were laughing so boisterously they nearly fell of their bench. "I'm afraid you're in uncharted waters here, my friend," he said frankly, with no hint of his customary sarcasm, "As cliché as this sounds, you've just got to go with what seems right." He paused. "Although… I think Jet would say, 'Go on the attack' …and, 'Go with your instincts.'"

Longshot shrugged, picking up his chopsticks in order to finish his now-cold udon. "I think you're right. But asking Jet for relationship advice at this point is a little difficult…"

---

… but less difficult than he had thought, as Longshot found out later that night.

'The forest? But… didn't the Fire Nation burn our hideout?' he wondered, staring off into the familiar vista of blood-red leaves and ramshackle nests constructed by children on the run. The sun was setting, gilding everything with a soft glow. A feeling of home settled in his chest, serene and comforting.

A sharp blow to the back of his head nearly knocked him off the platform he had been standing on – at the very least, it knocked the brim of his hat over his eyes.

'Who…?!'

"Geez, it's about freakin' TIME!!" a very familiar voice announced behind him.

Longshot righted his hat and whirled about. "Jet?!" he gasped, gawping at his former comrade and commander.

"Well, yeah, duh," was Jet's characteristic reply as he shoved the stalk of a spring-fresh twig between his lips, arching an eyebrow at the befuddled archer, "Who'd you think it was: the Avatar?"

"… but you're dead," Longshot managed, feeling pain lance through his chest at the way Jet slouched against the tree-trunk. It was so familiar, so… Jet. He wore the same motley travel-worn clothes and armor, his skin was the same tanned color… It was like he had just died yesterday…

"Well, I see that hanging out with Pipsqueak and Sneers hasn't done anything to improve your tact," Jet grumped, but otherwise did not seem offended. He narrowed his grey-brown eyes at Longshot, his calculating stare as piercing as ever.

"Jet, what…?" Longshot began as Jet suddenly approached him, stopping just before the plant matter between his teeth brushed against Longshot's throat.

Ignoring his former subordinate, Jet placed a hand on his head, then stretched it out, touching the bridge Longshot's nose. Unlike the blow to his skull, Longshot could not feel Jet's hand on his face - it served to remind him that this was a dream and that Jet was undeniably among the dead.

"Holy shit…" Jet muttered, stepping back and eying Longshot with wonderment, "You got taller than me! That's gotta be…!"

"Um, Jet…?" Longshot asked cautiously. It was all fine and good to see the dead when one was dreaming, but to have coherent conversations with them was something of a different matter entirely.

"You're not dead," Jet informed him bluntly, apparently anticipating his question, "Far from it." He took another step back back, a glint of wry humor in his eyes and smirk. "Well, well – Longshot's all grown up, and taller than me. Ain't that a kick in the pants?" He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. "No, you're not dead," he reaffirmed, managing to sound happy, "You called to me – that's why I'm here."

"… 'called'?" Longshot echoed, bewildered.

Jet grinned. "Lady troubles," he stated simply, folding his arms and beaming with dark humor, "Apparently… you have the hots for little Bee, but you don't have any idea how to ask her to marry you."

"You came all the way from the Spirit World because of that?!" Longshot demanded, fervently wishing a hole could open up under him and cast his dream-self into the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness.

His dream decided to be uncooperative, and the platform remained as sturdy as he remembered.

"Of course," Jet replied as if offended, "You and Smellerbee and the rest of my Freedom Fighters were my only reason for living – you think I'd give up on you just because I was dead?!"

Longshot bowed his head. "I would have thought… with the Fire Nation defeated…"

"Pft," Jet dismissed, waving his hand in front of his face as though to get rid of a foul stench, "The Fire Nation still exists – that alone would tie me to this plane. And then…" Here he fixed Longshot with a Look that made him flinch, "I find out you still haven't made Bee yours?! Of course I'm still going to be strung up in Limbo!"

Longshot thought that it was vaguely unfair for Jet to blame his inability to pass on to the next plane of existence on the matrimonial status of his two closest confidants and was about to say so when Jet followed up with:

"Dammit, with all the pain and suffering we went through – don't you think Bee and you deserve a little happiness?"

The jealousy and regret in Jet's tone was enough to wound… and to humble. "Of course I want her to be happy," Longshot answered heavily, taking a seat on the platform and dangling his legs over the side, "But I just don't know…"

WHAP!!

"… will you please stop doing that?!" Longshot yelped, one hand on his hat and the other on the platform to keep it and himself from flying.

"No, I won't," Jet averred harshly, looming over the archer, "You're being an idiot."

Longshot was getting a little tired of the constant and completely uncalled for abuse from his teammates, living and deceased, over his (complete lack of a) love-life. "Smellerbee doesn't belong to anyone! I can't walk up to her and 'make her mine' like I was some boar-q-pine stag in rut!" he shouted, jumping to his feet and unashamedly using his comparative bulk to force Jet to backpedal several steps, "She's her own person! She's stronger than anyone I know, and she deserves respect!"

Jet, who had raised his hands defensively, suddenly grinned. "Heh – you tell any of this to her?"

Longshot blinked, confusion overwhelming anger. "What?"

Jet sighed in response, burying his face in his hands. "Spirits, you're supposed to be the smart one when it came to touchy-feely stuff!" he groaned, "I know keeping your mouth shut is a habit for you, but sometimes… spitting it out and making an ass of yourself in the process is what you have to do. Especially where women are involved."

"I don't…" Longshot began with.

"Yes, you do!" Jet interrupted, batting Longshot's hat brim down, "You're being thick on purpose, and it's very annoying! If you feel that way about Bee, freakin' tell her! Contrary to popular opinion, the girl is not a mind-reader!"

Longshot straightened his hat, seriously considering taking it off just to give Jet a less convenient target. "But…"

"And Longshot – you really think Bee's happy with just respect?" Jet continued, his tone sliding from scolding to grave, "She's strong, yeah, but… I would have thought being a Freedom Fighter so long would have made you realize none of us can be strong all by ourselves. She needs you."

"But I'm always there for her!" Longshot protested, "When she's in danger, when she needs someone to listen to her, when she's in a bad mood and needs a punching bag…"

Jet snickered. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that. You did kinda take over that job by default after I left."

"... I don't see how I'm ever not there for her!" Longshot exclaimed in frustration.

"But you've never taken the leap and told her you're not just a comrade, someone who watches her back on the battlefield, am I right?" Jet riposted softly, quirking an eyebrow, "You want to be more for her, right?"

"… yes," Longshot admitted, having never really thought about it from that point of view, "I love her. I… I know she …cares for me, just like she cares for all of us…"

Jet rolled his eyes. "Hurrrr… the 'l-word' would be a nice thing to mention to her, ya think?"

"But what if…?"

"But NOTHING!!" Jet blared, "It's a risk! A leap of faith! For a guy who makes a living risking his butt running favors for warlords and merchants and what-have-you, you certainly turn pig-chicken when it comes to Bee. Not that I blame you – seems like her punches have gotten stronger," he added wryly.

"So, you're saying I should risk it all and confess my love to her?" Longshot summed up a trifle tiredly, "That's really not as easy as you make it sound."

"Well, yeah, of course not," Jet agreed unexpectedly, "Why else you think I came all this way to kick your skinny ass into gear? If you're not going to listen to a friend from beyond the grave, you're just not ever going to do it. And I don't want to see either of you regretting that. Regret sucks."

Longshot smiled at this – Jet had tossed off his advice with arrogant coolness, but he knew his friend well enough to appreciate his concern. "All right. You're right. If you've come all this way just to kick some sense into my head, it's something I really ought to get around to," he said.

Jet raised an eyebrow. "You've also gotten more sarcastic, I've noticed. So… it's settled then? I won't have to start haunting you if you continue to waffle like a concussed sparrow-keet?"

"No, no haunting necessary," Longshot said hurriedly, "But… I wouldn't mind talking with you again." He smiled sadly at Jet, who returned it with his own as his form began to turn to wisps of golden light at the edges.

"Yeah, been too long," said Jet, beginning to dissolve into the dreamscape, "Next time, don't wait for some crisis in your love life to talk to me."

"I won't. See you later, Jet." He turned away.

"Oh, and Longshot?"
Longshot paused, looked over his shoulder.

"Nieces and nephews – LOOOOOOTS of them, or there will be haunting."

--- FIN ---

A/N: You will have noticed a lot of food in the beginning of the chapter, all of it Japanese, consequence of

1) having eaten only yoghurt from breakfast before doing a four-hour teaching assistant stint

2) daydreaming about what to get from the cafeteria

3) going to school in Japan where all food in said cafeteria is Japanese

XD. Actually, I'm inordinately fond of my school caf's kitsune-ramen, but since I didn't want this to sound like a Naruto cross-over, I decided to broaden the menu. The type of udon Longshot was enjoying is called pirikara niku udon (spicy meat udon). Since the Avatar world is a fusion of many Asian cultures, particularly Chinese and Japanese, I thought I would have some fun with region-specific cuisine.