Smellerbee was glad they were not scheduled to work the next morning. She held Longshot deep into the night as he cried, stroking his hair and rocking him gently. When she woke up the next morning, it was to find herself leaned against their wall just under the window. Longshot's head was in her lap and his arm draped over her leg, the other curled into his chest, rather reminiscent of a child who might clutch a toy or blanket to them as they slept. Smellerbee didn't want to disturb him, so she sat, thinking about the night's events and all she had learned about Longshot.
It was strange, she thought, how little had changed with that knowledge, and yet how different their relationship seemed now. She could never quite think about him the same way, now that she knew the nature of the burden he carried.
She had always known he'd had a dark past; they all did, with the Freedom Fighters. They'd all had their lives and families ripped apart in different ways by the Fire Nation. But there was something different, she felt about Longshot's story.
There was nothing she could have done, really, to stop Chang. She knew that now. He was the kind of man who wanted what he wanted and had no regard for anyone else. He'd been given power, and he was going to wield it. Jet had been nothing more than a child, a child of brave parents who were brave enough to fight back but who paid for it dearly. He never could have stopped the Rough Riders any more than Smellerbee could have stopped the soldiers who took her brother and father away.
But Longshot?
She didn't blame him. She never could blame him because she knew his choice was impossible. Somehow the Yuu Yan Archers had heard of him. Perhaps a Fire Nation soldier or spy had seen him practice, or perhaps his reputation was simply enough to catch their attention. Somehow they knew how good he was, and they'd wanted him. They'd wanted him and they'd given him the opportunity to betray his people and join them. And he'd said no.
Had he known what the consequences might be? Had he thought his own life would be the one taken if he'd refused?
She couldn't image what it might be to find her family dead.
Jet, as far as she knew, had never gone into his burning house, knowing what he'd find. She'd watched her family be tormented and hurt and taken away, but she'd never even considered what it would mean to have them killed, nevermind to be the one to find them. She imagined what it would be like, walking through the rooms of her house, finding the bodies of the people she'd loved, their spirits gone, knowing they'd died in agony.
She'd seen blood. She'd seen injury. She'd seen destruction and devastation but never death. But she could picture it all too well, Longshot staggering through his home, trying to revive each member of his family, his hands covered in blood, his face streaked with tears. Did he cry out? She wondered. Did he call their names? What was going through his mind?
And then Smellerbee thought about the baby. The tiny little new life, ended by an arrow before it could really start. Smellerbee wondered if the child had died in the arms of its mother, the one place, above all, a child should be safe. She wondered if Longshot, desperate, tried to save the child. Or if he simply held the baby in his arms, because that was all he could do.
She looked down at Longshot, still fast asleep and breathing deeply. Unlike herself and Jet, he couldn't tell himself there was nothing he could do. It was not his fault, Smellerbee knew that, but she also knew how hard that was to believe. She knew how it must weigh on him, wondering if his family would still be alive had he joined the archers.
But what would that have done to you? She found herself wondering. What terrible things would they have made you do? Could you have survived that kind of guilt? Smellerbee was surprised to feel tears welling up in her eyes. One fell down and landed on Longshot's cheek, but it didn't wake him. Smellerbee tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling as though expecting to find an answer there.
How can I help him? She wanted to ask. How on earth can I make it better? What do I say?
But there was no making it better. She knew that now. She thought of all the times she had cried and this boy had held her. All the nights his arms had protected her from nightmares. All the times he'd held her hand or looked into her eyes, bringing her back to earth and back to herself. He'd never needed to say anything. Being there was enough.
So, she decided, that's what she would do for Longshot.
: –:–:–:
She must have fallen back to sleep because when she next became aware of her surroundings, it was because Longshot had moved.
She opened her eyes to see him looking around, his head raised up slightly off her leg, and she said quietly, "Hey."
He turned to look at her and then scrambled to sit up.
"It's okay," she said quickly. "You're fine." He nodded vaguely. "You slept for a long time," Smellerbee said. "You needed it." He nodded again. "Longshot, I –"
His eyes met hers and she saw a fragility there she'd never seen before. It startled her slightly, but also stirred something strange inside of her. She couldn't quite place what it was. He knew all her secrets. And she wanted, she realized, to know all of his. Because she wanted to be his safeguard, as he was hers. "– I just wanted to say… I'm glad you told me."
Longshot looked at her for a moment, then averted his eyes. Shame. She knew the feeling all too well.
"No, I am," she said, and she took one of Longshot's hands instinctively. She knew how he could retreat into himself and she didn't want to let him this time. "Because now I know." Know what? She thought furiously at herself. She didn't know what she was saying. "Now I know… how much you're carrying," she concluded. "And now… now maybe you don't have to carry it alone."
Longshot looked up at her and she saw his eyes welling with tears once more, and he moved forward and buried his face in her chest and put his arms around her. And just like he had done for her so many times, Smellerbee held him close to her, doing nothing but reassuring him that she was there. That she would always be there.
: –:–:–:
Smellerbee could tell that Longshot wasn't really up to cooking, so she decided they should splurge and go out to eat for once. She wanted to get Longshot out in the fresh air and moving. So she led him through the streets until they found a place with a display of pastries in the front window, which Smellerbee caught Longshot eyeing.
"That's where we'll go," she said, not allowing him the chance to argue before she shepherded him inside. The place was small but clearly popular, as the hostess told them it would be a few minutes before she could seat them. While they waited, Longshot examined the pastry cases, looking at the delicate pies and beautifully decorated tarts.
"Let me guess," Smellerbee said, amused, thinking of the way he took charge in Ms. Zhu's ceramic shop. "You also used to be a pastry chef?" Longshot shrugged one shoulder and she could see he was suppressing a smile. Smellerbee punched him playfully on the arm. "Of course you know how to make pastry," she said, rolling her eyes and smiling. "You can do everything, can't you?" Longshot shook his head but she could tell he was pleased with himself.
: –:–:–:
Their dinner was nice. They ate a lot, stuffing themselves with meat-filled dumplings and vegetables in thick, creamy sauces. And for dessert they each picked a different pastry and shared them with each other. Smellerbee had picked some sort of sweet bun and Longshot a tart filled with a sweet fruity filling Smellerbee couldn't completely identify but she enjoyed nonetheless. They were halfway through when they became aware of something happening just a few tables away.
A young woman let out an excited squeal and launched herself into the arms of her date, a young man who looked flushed and excited, if a bit relieved. The young man then took the young woman's hand and put a small stone ring on her finger, and the restaurant erupted into cheers and applause. Even Smellerbee couldn't help but tap her teacup on the table in support of them. They looked so happy.
She turned to Longshot. "That's cute, isn't it?" she asked him, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the couple with his thousand yard stare that meant he was thinking of something else, far away from the present moment. She tried to read his inscrutable face. There was sadness there, which came as no surprise, but something else, too. A strange kind of longing. She didn't know what to make of it.
Longshot seemed to come back to himself and he caught Smellerbee staring at him.
What?
"Nothing," she said, hurriedly. "Just… that's nice, isn't it?" She asked with a nod to the couple. Longshot nodded but she could see his heart wasn't in it. Trying to give him an out, she said, "I'm tired. We should probably head back home soon." Longshot nodded.
He was distant on their walk home; his mind was clearly elsewhere. Though on the way back they stumbled across a beautiful fountain surrounded by torches, and Smellerbee could see that the sight lifted Longshot's spirits. He likes pretty things, Smellerbee thought, remembering the way he looked at the pastries. He's an artist. She felt the faintest twinge of sadness that she couldn't explain at that. But she stood for a few minutes while Longshot took everything in, wandering around the lights and studying the way the water flowed through the fountain.
They made it home and went to bed, their sleeping bags close together on the worn wooden floor. It took Smellerbee a while to fall asleep, for she found herself checking on Longshot over and over. She didn't really even know what she was checking for, only feeling determined that should he need her at all, she would be ready.
