Narrator here! No, I'm not dead, but certainly wish I was - grad school is so hard! Anyway, I discovered a new Avatar ship that is consuming what braincells I have left: SMELLERSHOT!!It's just so unbeleiveably cute, and I'm having a ball writing the backstory not only for Smellerbee and Longshot, but for Jet and the rest of the Freedom Fighters as well.
Consider this a reaction to the latest episode, "Lake Laogai." I'll put up something fluffy ASAP, but right now, I'm in the mood for aaaaaaangst...
Weep Not
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"Fear not for the future, weep not for the past." Percy Bysshe Shelley
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"Dammit," she muttered, yanking on the stubborn strip of leather. The slender twig dangling from her thin lips almost snapped as she bit down, straining to tighten the strap just one small increment more.
'It's no use,' a tiny voice whispered nastily, 'It's too big, and you're too little – he was so much more, and you're just…"
"SHUTUP!" she yelled, the howling syllables just short of sobbing.
The twig dropped to the floor, slipping between the cracks in the boards.
"Oh, sh-!" Tears smarted her eyes as she dropped to her knees, scrabbling vainly for the lost twig.
The abandoned leather strap maliciously slipped loose. She started as the heavy ochre shoulder guard thunked hollowly against the ground.
The last splinter had broken the proverbial camel's back.
"Aaaaaaahhh! Aaaaaaaahhhhh!" Weird, smothered yowls of mourning tore themselves from her lungs – imprisoned too long, she could no longer hold them back by will alone.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!" She could not stand, could not raise her head for the heart-crushing weight that had gripped her body – the cold, leaden knowledge that he was gone, gone forever, and she, she could not take his place, she could not be the leader he had been, she could not, could not -!
Hands grabbed her by the shoulders, hauled her bodily from her pathetic fetal crouch, shook her roughly, shook her until she cried out in pain. Vision distorted by tears, breath strangled by sorrow, she gaped up at him, at his fierce scowl, unbelieving.
"L-longshot…?" she finally managed after an eternity.
He only frowned harder as tears continued to stream down her red, splotched face.
"I… I can't do it! I'm not him! I'm not…!"
His hands tightened, his fingers digging into flesh, muscle, bone with all the strength born of years of archery.
She gasped again… and got angry.
"LET GO OF ME, NOW!!" Shrieking a battle-cry worthy of a berserker, she bit his left forearm, sinking her teeth deep into the worn linen bandages.
He winced and loosened his hold ever-so-slightly - she jerked her arm free and smashed her fist into his stomach as hard as she could.
He could not hold onto her.
She punched him again, both fists, one after the other.
He fell to his knees, struggling for breath, his head bowed in submission at her feet.
As suddenly as the battle-rage had seized her, it dissolved.
"Longshot? Longshot – Spirits, I'm sorry!" She knelt in front of him, afraid to reach out, scared that her hands would not obey her, and seek to harm yet again. "I'm so sorry!"
"Don't… be…" With effort, he raised his head, looking up at her with kind eyes. "Don't be… anyone… but you."
Stunned, she stared at him, not understanding.
A shadow-smirk flickered over his lips – clutching his bruised torso with one arm, he drew her into a rough, awkward embrace with the other.
"You're you – not him. He wouldn't want it – I don't want it. The others… they will understand."
The fierce whisper in her ear burned – then warmed, melting the cold lead of doubt and fear. He believed in her. He would always believe in her.
"Longshot… thank you." Hesitantly, still unsure of herself, she folded her arms around him, burying her face in the travel-stained crimson cloth of his mantle.
Quiet… solace. The grief would always remain, the regret – but there too would be strength. They two would always have hope.
'If I can but protect one thing, one person who is important to me…' "I'm ready," she told him, breaking the silence, the embrace.
Without hesitation, he released her. 'I'm sorry too,' his eyes read, guilt clear on his face.
"Well, I needed it," Smellerbee tossed back with a laugh, massaging her left shoulder a bit, "Don't hesitate next time you think I need a wake-up call."
'That's not going to be anytime soon, I hope,' his replying smile said as he got to his feet.
Smellerbee picked up the discarded bit of battered, too-big armor. "I'll be out in just a sec, Longshot. Tell Sneers for me?"
Lonshot nodded and lifted the curtain, leaving the room.
Smellerbee stood in the middle of what had once been his quarters – now hers, by default. Every surface, every ragged embellishment, reminded her of him.
"I'm not you," she said to the motes of dust that danced between the lances of golden afternoon sunlight, "I can't ever be you, so I'm not going to try, but…" Her hands tightened on the shoulder guard. "… if you can, lend me your strength – let me know I'm doing okay."
Feeling a little silly for talking to dead air, she quickly crossed over to his (her) bed and placed the shoulder guard on the red blanket.
"Goodbye… Jet," she said at last, speaking the two words she had never dared to speak, too frightened by the knowledge that they would seal his leaving forever.
Turning on her heel, she moved toward the door.
A breeze from nowhere ruffled the top of her hair, like teasing fingers tousling the strands, and was gone.
Smellerbee, new leader of the Freedom Fighters, smiled softly to herself, straightened her shoulders, and marched out to speak to her "men."
--- END ---
A/N: This fic came as a result of a sketch I did during lecture, which will be posted on devART shortly. Pure supposistion on my part, making Smellerbee the new leader of the Freedom Fighters; I know Longshot's the favorite (as he is older, perhaps?), but honestly - I want some righteous femininsm here! (w00t)
That, and I think Smellerbee is just more committed. Longshot's withdrawn, while she's more extroverted, and that's a preferable trait in a leader (I've taken enough sociology/communications classes to know, trust me (:P) geh!)
Also, this purely "what-if" in the fact that I'm firmly convinced that JET IS NOT DEAD!!! He might have Smellerbee and Longshot go back on their own and hunt down Mongke, which would be awesome, but I'm fairly certain he'll be back by the end of the show regardless. Let me have my denial, m'kay?