The rumors had come and gone in an instant—undoubtedly hushed by the Dai Li—but no amount of censorship could block the ash on the cool early morning air. Nothing could untie the knot that formed in Smellerbee's stomach as the odor, the smell of death, lingered about her nostrils, pricking and stabbing every visible surface of her memory, teasing out a rage and vengeance that had risen like a phoenix from the ashes of the countless villages they had burned to the ground.

She clenched her fists and sent a wooden doorstop flying into the corner with a well-placed kick, lodging it under a threadbare article of unidentifiable furniture, thinking it silly, really, that a one-room suite in the shabbiest residence in the Lower Ring would possess either item, especially when there wasn't even door to prop open.

It doesn't matter now, since it will have all gone up in flames within a matter of hours.

Nevertheless, the young swordswoman fetched the contents of her front left pocket and sat down cross-legged on the floor she'd had to sand down the week before as to avoid splinters. Rubbing the rounded edges of the mirror fragment she kept in her pocket with a certain preoccupation, Bee began the pre-battle ritual in silence.

First was her shaggy mane, which was contained in part by a narrow strip of blue cloth she'd procured that one day years ago: Longshot's pant leg, valiantly sacrificed in mid-battle to keep a bleeding head wound from inhibiting her vision. She held the dark, tattered fabric to her face and inhaled through it—something she had always done to calm down and focus before entering the fray—forgetting, if only for a moment, that this fight might very well be the last.

As she then applied the contents of a tarnished silver lipstick tube—her mother's—as two red stripes on either cheek, Smellerbee surprised herself in that she didn't think the idea so bad.

Next came the kohl, which she applied in excess in anticipation for the searing brightness of the passing comet.

"You got this here stuff to smear under your eyes so that you don' get blinded by the sun," Jet laughed, handing her the cylindrical bottle as Bee shaded her face with her hands, squinting in the late afternoon glare. "You're gonna need both your hands free and your eyes wide open if y' wanna fight the Fire Nation."

Smellerbee swallowed audibly, the wound in her heart till smarting from the recent loss of her friend and leader. Knowing that her tears would carve black rivers of wet kohl down her cheeks if she cried again, Bee squeezed her eyes shut, hoping with every fiber of her being that, wherever Jet had gone, it was better than here.

Perhaps, she pondered, he'll be waiting for me there.

Despite his fondness of quiet, Longshot couldn't quite come to terms with the fact that the once-bustling streets of Ba Sing Se were now utterly lifeless. Shabby shutters and curtains concealed equally shabby interiors for as far as the archer could see from the rooftop promontory. Mud and filth lay stagnant in the city streets' innumerable potholes, unperturbed by bare feet and vendors' rickety street carts. The repetitive drone of "Cabbages! Get your cabbages here!" and the seedy whispers of back alley dealings had long since been lost in the terror-inspired vacuum that had sucked Ba Sing Se's lowest ring dry.

A snapping sound startled Longshot out of his contemplations, but he only sighed as he realized that the noise had been naught but the neighbor's morning laundry convulsing in the wind. The backs of his knees pressed to the rusted roof gutter, Longshot let the same wind whip at the starched fabric of his pants and carry ebony wisps of fine hair around his face to tickle large, shapely ears. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he traced the brim of the hat in his lap with pale, scarred hands, frowning as he exhaled and tasted ash.

"Yeah, I can smell it, too."

Longshot didn't have to turn around to know that Smellerbee had climbed out the window to join him on the roof, settling down a few inches to his right. She stared at her knobby knees with general apathy, allowing her scrawny legs to dangle parallel to Longshot's over the edge of the crumbling roof.

After a moment of silence, Bee fumbled for something in her front right pocket. "I washed your arm wrappings last night," she muttered, fishing out the long, yellowed strips and placing them in her lap. "They're still a bit damp, but I figured they'd dry faster out here than in there," she finished, tapping the building's peeling façade with her heel.

He coughed softly, offering her a silent thank-you.

"Hey, don't mention it," she replied, interlocking ungloved fingers behind her head as she reclined, her back matching the uneven slant of the roof. Though her eyes were cast downward, Longshot had managed to turn around and capture her gaze, an unreadable expression in his eyes. As if realizing that she couldn't read him, Longshot looked away, his brow furrowed, and drew his knees into his chest.

"'Never mind,' Longshot?!" Smellerbee sighed, exasperated at this umpteenth demonstration of reluctantly offered, but rapidly recalled gazes. "How many times are you going to tell me that? If you've got something to say, then spit it out already!"

When he made no move to comply with her demands, Smellerbee sat up again and huffed audibly, wringing the wrappings in her hands as she commented to herself silently that, perhaps just this once, she should follow her own advice.

"Longshot, I—"

The archer's head turned a couple of degrees in her direction, his eyes betraying a certain curiosity at what she had to say.

Bee cleared her throat, attempting to conceal her deepening blush behind a half-clenched fist and sideways glances. Much to her dismay, this only intrigued him further.

"I—uh…"

She forced herself to look at Longshot in the eye. Yes?, he seemed to say, eager to hear her answer.

No. He'd take it the wrong way.

"I-I'm sorry, Longshot," she sighed, directing her gaze downward again. "For snapping earlier, I mean! It's just that you—"

Detecting a redirection, he turned around before she could finish.

As much as Longshot hated to admit it, he'd let his guard down again and had been left even more hurt than before. Cursing his own mawkish, lovesick heart over all else, the young archer deliberately donned the conical hat in his lap, tying the knot beneath his chin with a painfully curt gesture.

"Longshot?"

No answer.

"Longshot…"

Leave me alone.

It was a sharp, wordless dip of the head, devoid of any meaning to the untrained eye, but to Smellerbee it was like a slap in the face.

"YOU ARE ALONE!" she roared, eyes watering. "You're all alone, Longshot, and you hate every minute of it. Keeping things inside; not being able to express your anger, your frustration, your grief—"

Bee's mind wandered back to Jet, and she did her best to choke down a sob.

"It—it kills you. It w-will killyou, Longshot, just like it killed h-him! Just—l-like…"

The girl's forehead wrinkled under her headband, a futile dam to impending tears. Finding that she didn't care, she let them flow with a cathartic gasp.

"DAMN YOU, JET!"

Bee smashed her fist into the roof, destroying a ceramic shingle with an earsplitting crack that made Longshot visibly flinch. He glanced up in alarm, only to see Smellerbee biting her tongue as to keep her sobs muffled. Two streaks of kohl flowed down her cheeks in tiny, muddied streams, pooling on her rounded chin, while her unprotected knuckles bore the torn and bloody grief of the crumbling façade.

Sensing his attention, Bee turned around to face him, making a point to look at him straight in the eye. He was slightly taken aback by the regard, immediately shooting the swordswoman an uninhibited expression in return.

He was defensive and questioning, but concerned nonetheless.

But how would—

"Because I feel the same way when you're not there!" she blurted, cheeks pinking. "Because—because when you're alone, Longshot, I am, too!"

Longshot felt his face become hot as the words tumbled out of her mouth. Much to his dismay, he only felt himself get warmer at Bee's multiple, futile attempts to stuff them right back in.

"Uh, I mean, er…" she rubbed the back of her head thoughtfully, "with Jet gone, you know, and it being just us two on the run so long and all—oh stop it, Longshot!"

His eyes crinkled in a silent, bashful laugh as the faintest of smiles crossed his lips.

Stop what?

"Grinning like an idiot," she mumbled, crossing her arms in her lap with an indignant huff.

He peered around only so much as for Bee to continue comprehending his facial expressions.

Why?

"Because you're doing it for no good reason, and that's stupid."

Who says it's for no good reason?

"I do, because there's nothing about our current situation that's worth smiling at right now!" she snapped, halting their playful banter in an instant. "This is a war, Longshot! Our leader is dead! And all we can do is sit on our asses and wait for the Fire Nation to—"

She was gently interrupted by Longshot's hand on her shoulder. Stumbling over her words, Bee was attempting to regain her footing, but his eyes—

"—the Fire Nation to—"

The archer's unrelenting gaze silenced her in an instant. Infuriated, the swordswoman opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but a quick finger to the lips ensured her compliance.

I say it's for a good reason.

"What?"

Longshot gave an exasperated sigh, silently cursing the role her denial played in misinterpreting his opposing viewpoint.

You heard me.

She rolled her eyes in implicit submission, but wasn't defeated yet.

"Well what is it, then? This shining beacon of hope of yours?"

No answer.

"You're kidding, right?" she deadpanned, moving to dismiss his hand from her shoulder. Her half-hearted efforts, however, wouldn't shake him that easily.

"I'm looking at her."

Her momentary stun at hearing his voice was all Longshot needed to gently pull her body forward. With one hand still clutching her shoulder and the other softly cupping her cheek, the archer closed the distance between their lips with a soft, sweet kiss.

He recoiled immediately, fearing a violent reaction to his violation of the girl's personal space, but softened when he realized that one wasn't coming. In fact, all Bee could do was stare and blink in bewilderment, her cheeks as red as the paint that streaked them.

"You—"

Longshot nodded, smiling sheepishly as his ears glowed scarlet.

He figured she wouldn't need further clarification.