To Charleegirl's BoomerAANG Club... oh... and all the other Longerbee fans that are staff of the coolest C2 (wow. arrogance all around, huh?)

I don't own Longshot. And since this fic is more about Longshot then Avatar, that'll do me for a disclaimer. If you can buy single characters... it might make a nice birthday gift... ;)

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Actions

Interrupted by footsteps, Longshot would load his bow, with quick, skilled fingers and cock it at the door... putting it down to rest when the footsteps got quieter and eventually vanished.

It might have seemed like paranoia, but they were alone and had always been taught to be careful. He took care of her. It was his duty. And she wanted to do the same for him... although he understood that she couldn't do it as well as he did. Even if she tried (although that was something he would never let her know).

When the footsteps vanished they would always share a look of relief to be alone together again.

Longshot couldn't tell when he first knew how he felt about her. It literally just happened over months, over years. Perhaps even at first sight, but he didn't remember how he felt, although the images were still vivid in his mind from when he made his new home with the Freedom Fighters.

What he did remember is wanting to express these feelings more as time went on... in a look, a handshake, a touch and eventually to more difficult feats to accomplish: interlocking fingers, warm embraces, the dissolution of all that was around them as they melted into one another's touch.

But the most intimate of these acts was in the simple things. The unbandaging of his hands. As she unravelled each band around it to losen and free his protected archer's hands. As the lightweight, unsmiling girl traced circles into those palms that barely saw the light of day.

As the bandages fell to the floor and he was at his most vunerable. Without the feeling of having to pick up his weapon. Finally surrendering himself and his trust to someone else as broken as he was.

And the tingle that went from his palm, all the way up to the other joints in his arm, at the first contact of something other than a covering on his skin.

He could wait for other actions to express himself to her. Her gentle movements on his hand were enough at the moment to read the feeling loud and clear.

He did like these moments they were alone together.