He was nothing more than a grunt solider, really, and he was fine with that. Being nothing more than a grunt had it's benefits, such as a conspicuous lack of the enemy yelling his name and then concentrating all their firepower on whoever they had seen. Literally.

Katara, the water-witch Jet had fallen in love with had that problem. Sokka, her meddlesome brother who'd mistrusted and destroyed Jet had that problem. Toph, the little blind girl had that problem. Zuko, the boy from Ba Sing Se had that problem in great supply. The Avatar certainty had that problem, more so than anyone.

But he didn't have that problem, because no one knew his name. No one cared what a poorly clothed archer might contribute to the fight. No one cared if they killed him, they were after much loftier target. No one in red cared about him.

Which, really, wasn't that bad of a thing.

Longshot had lost track of the time, had lost track of everything really. His arms ached, but he ignored them, drawing an arrow back for the final time, aimed at the retreating back of a man in red, who'd taken pleasure in setting his allies aflame, watching them scream and burn to death. Longshot loosened, watching the arrow hit the man square in the back. He heard the man's strangled yelp as he fell, one arm trying in vain to reach behind him and yank the arrow out. But the damage had been done, and Longshot never missed his mark. Longshot lowered his bow slowly, eyes on the man he'd just killed, watching the dark red of blood seep against the ground, not even denting the color of the man's armor. It was not the first man he'd killed, nor was it the last he was sure. Still, he watched each one die, cementing it in his memory. He wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing in killing men, but it wasn't like he could just pin them against the wall and wait until the battle was over to release them. That was impractical and unsafe.

Longshot jumped when someone laid a hand on his shoulder, instinctively spinning around, slamming his elbow into the man's arm. He'd always been useless at hand-to-hand combat, but maybe he could hold out…

"Whoa! Friendly, friendly!!"

Longshot froze, half-expecting a trick, but the blue before his eyes convinced him otherwise. Longshot relaxed, lowering his bow slowly. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd been planning to do with it, but he was sure that Hakoda of the Southern Water Tribe's Warriors (a man whose name had been called out numerous times by the enemy) could have defended against it.

The man was missing his headpiece, his hair fighting to get loose from it's ties. He had either blood or warpaint smeared across his face, looking almost complimentary to his grim smile. "Guess I should have known better than to sneak up on a Freedom Fighter, huh?"

Longshot blinked, taken aback. Of course he'd known the man instantly, he was the father of Sokka and Katara and a face not soon forgotten. So how had this man known of him?

The man's smile grew a little more good-natured. "I spent time in prision with a friend of yours, Pipsqueak. He spoke of you."

Well, that explained it. Longshot pushed his hat up higher on his head, in order to wipe away the sweat that formed on his brow. Whereas everyone else had donned special battle gear, he wore his everyday clothes, since he had nothing else. Someone had been kind enough to lend Smellerbee some extra knives, but that was the only change to her wardrobe. Since he was an archer, he was needed towards the back, his long range weapon of use back there. She was sent to the middle, safer than the front, Longshot supposed. They'd never let a non-bending child to the front without the express permission of one of those in charge and Longshot had gone out of his way to keep Smellerbee away of the front if they weren't going to let him protect her. She was probably still mad at him, but as they all learned soon enough, the enemy was everywhere, there was no real front.

"The fighting is over." Hakoda said, making Longshot look up in surprise. As his first real, full scale battle, he'd expected the second invasion to last much longer than… how long had it been? Hakoda looked up to the sky, relief on his lined face. "The Firelord fell, son. He's gone."

Longshot supposed he should have felt something more at this momentous occasion. The Firelord only fell once, after all. But Longshot couldn't bring his exhausted bones to do anything more than just wait for the next attack, just wait. Even if the Firelord was gone, there would still be fighting to do. There would still be stragglers in the city, there would still be enemies to fight. With that in mind, Longshot felt no freer, no better. He didn't feel that Jet had actually died for something now, that his mother had been avenged, that his life was any less what it had been yesterday.

"Well," Hakoda grunted, looking back down at him. "Ozai's fell, at least. Suppose that Prince'll be crowned any second now without pomp or ceremony. The Fire Nation needs a leader. Here's hoping he keeps his part of the bargain."

Longshot nodded, understanding and agreeing with the mistrust. The Prince had evidently showed up and offered his services as a teacher to Aang, claiming to serve good now. When confronted, he seemed utterly shocked either that others knew this was the easiest way to the throne or that he'd never considered it. The Fire Nation's fate was no concern of Longshot's, however.

Where is Smellerbee? He thought, trying to put that on his face as clearly as possible. The Freedom Fighters never had trouble understanding him, so it never crossed his mind that this man wouldn't be able to.

"You don't say much, do you?" Hakoda said, looking at the man Longshot had just killed. There were a few other arrow-littered bodies lying around, but none of this bothered Longshot. The man hadn't answered his question, so he repeated it silently. "You must be Longshot." Hakoda continued, oblivious.

Longshot nodded, thinking, Yes, I am. Where is Smellerbee?

"You fought well, today, kid." Hakoda said, completely oblivious, laying a hand on Longshot's shoulder, like a proud parent (not that Longshot would have known what that felt like) beaming down at him. Spirits, did obliviousness run in the family? He could see where Sokka got it. "Really well. I'm sure you're parents would have been proud."

Yeah, that's nice. Longshot thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Maybe the soot on his face was obscuring his message. Whatever it was, he was done being praised for just doing his duty. "Where's Smellerbee?" Longshot asked, loathing the sound of his voice. It was weak, raspy with disuse. He hated it.

Hakoda looked taken aback, then smiled, removing his hand from Longshot's arm. "She's just through there, between those two buildings."

Longshot tipped his hat to the man, secretly glad to get away from the man who called everyone son, even if they weren't his. Keeping his bow in hand just in case, ignoring the fact that he had no more arrows, Longshot jogged to where the man had said Smellerbee was, careful not to make too much sound, in case an enemy lurked—

"LONGSHOT!"

For the second time in less than two minutes, something foreign touched him, making him jump in surprise. Well, he would have jumped, if he still was standing or had feeling anywhere in his body.

Smellerbee lay on top of him, hugging him as hard as she could (which his ribs didn't appreciate) shaking slightly. Longshot shifted as best he could under her vicegrip-like hold, wrapping his arms around her as best he could. His hold wasn't as tight as hers, careful not to harm her, but that didn't mean he was any less glad to see her. Longshot shut his eyes, burying his head in between her neck and her shoulder, just enjoying the moment. The Firelord he couldn't evoke any feelings of relief for, but this… this was enough to relief the tensions of hours of worrying. This was what he needed to feel safe, not kind words from a stranger.

"Longshot, he's gone, he's really really gone!" Smellerbee shouted, her hands on either side of his head, leaning over him. Longshot looked up at her, noting where the warpaint had turned into bloodstains, noting singed patches of hair and clothing. She was smiling and she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his entire life. He gave her a smile when he gave Hakoda nothing, eyes taking in every aspect of the woman that was Smellerbee. "Is it really over?" She asked, sounding suddenly unsure.

Technically, yes. Also, technically no. Yes because the symbol had fallen, their leader. No because the ideology that had been pounding into four generations was still there, war debts needed to be paid, and people would need homes, jobs and a feeling of security. The Earth Kingdom would no doubt rear up and demand reparations, the Water Tribe right on it's heels. The Avatar would have one hell of a job to do, that was for sure.

But for the lowly grunt soldier that he was, that she was, yes, their fight with the firebenders was over.

"Yes," He said softly. "It's all over now."

Smiling at the voice she rarely heard, Smellerbee leaned down and planted a kiss on the startled Longshot's cheek, eyes carefully measuring a response. For once, Longshot didn't think through his actions, he didn't think at all. It was more of an automatic reaction, really, a hidden desire buried deep beneath his psyche. Longshot reached up to brush hair that had escaped her headband away from her face, leaning up and somehow knowing just what to do. He kissed her, oblivious to the possibility of anyone seeing, oblivious to the fact that there might still be firebenders around. For once, none of that mattered.

It was over, they were safe at last.

This is my first try at a combination of romance and war-type stuff. How'd I do? I'm still a little iffy on the kiss part, but I thought I'd post it and get some feedback.