This fic was written for a prompt-"Safety First, Carolina & CT" on Tumblr. I'm eponymous-rose over there if you'd like to come say hi.
Two weeks after CT joins up, Carolina comes to her and asks for knife-fighting lessons. To say that CT is startled is an understatement, but she manages to stammer out a training time that's well after their evening meetings.
"I've never really talked to her, but everyone knows she's a much better fighter than any of us," she tells Florida that evening. He's been propping up a wall in the corner of her quarters, watching her form while she works through a set of one-handed pushups. "She's gonna be leading us in the field. She can annihilate anyone unarmed. I don't see why she thinks she needs the help." She switches arms, wincing at the shiver of pain that runs along the length of an old scar across her bicep. "And she'll probably be insufferable about it. I've taught perfectionists before. They're lousy students."
"Oh, Carolina might just surprise you," Florida says. "Watch your back, kiddo, you're slumping again."
CT straightens her back and glares at the wall.
Carolina is already waiting for her in workout clothing when CT jogs into the training room ten minutes late. Great. But Carolina doesn't comment, doesn't so much as raise an eyebrow, just shifts into a hand-to-hand stance and smiles. "Ready?"
In response, CT pulls a knife from her belt. It's from her personal collection, higher quality than the standard-issue bullshit. Good balance, fine worksmanship. She holds it out by the tip of its blade, and Carolina straightens up to take it by the hilt. She holds it gingerly between two fingers, flattens it against the palm of her left hand to reflect light up and down the blade, as though inspecting it. CT wonders if she knows what she's looking for.
"All right," CT says. "Tell me what you know about knives."
Carolina doesn't hesitate, lets the knife's hilt slip more solidly into the palm of her hand. "Hammer grip," she says, and then tosses the knife lightly above her hand, grabbing it out of the air with her palm down. "Icepick grip." She pauses, looking up at CT through the strands of hair pulling loose from her ponytail. Waiting for another cue, she thinks. Not especially eager to show off. Huh.
"That's fine," CT says. "You paid attention in Basic. Thing they never quite get right, though, is the equivalent of trigger discipline." She pulls her own knife, slips into a Filipino grip. "With a pistol, you've got stages. You've got your safety. You've got your standard grip with your finger off the trigger. And finally you make the call to put that finger on the trigger. You only ever do that when you're committed to shooting whatever you're aiming it." She straightens her arm, miming an exaggerated fencing stance with her blade. "Knives don't have in-betweens. You pull a knife, you're not only committing to using it on your opponent, you're accepting the risks it poses to yourself."
Carolina nods. The intense focus she's giving CT is, frankly, a little unnerving. To cover her discomfort, CT makes a slow thrust with her knife; Carolina's reflexes are fantastic, and she brings up her own weapon, still in its icepick grip, to block. "Look," says CT. "Here's the problem." She rests her unarmed hand on the top of Carolina's forearm, feeling her jump a little at the touch, then puts pressure on it, forcing it downward. Carolina lets her, offering no resistance until her arm is lowered and the point of her own knife is pressing lightly into her thigh. "It's very easy to hurt yourself with a knife. People who're untrained are more likely to hurt themselves than their opponents. It can be an inelegant, messy weapon."
"It's fine if you don't let it hit you," Carolina says, her lips twisted like she's remembering some private joke.
"Basically, yeah," CT says. "But look, what I'm saying is that you're accepting risk when you learn to fight like this. You're accepting the fact that, if you let your guard down even for a moment, something you use to protect yourself might also be the thing that hurts you."
"Interesting," Carolina says, "that you chose this as your specialty."
"Not really," CT says, but there's a self-satisfied gleam in Carolina's eyes that makes her think Carolina's after learning more in this training session than basic proficiency with a knife. "All right. Let's go over the stances."