A/N: Inspired by two of my favourite things: Stephen Lang's guns and Stephen Lang WITH guns. I watched a behind the scenes video where the cast got their weapons training yesterday and this idea wouldn't leave me.
I initially had this planned quite some time back for another fandom but it works much better for these two. Completely ignoring the finale, this is set both pre-series and during season 1. It also involved a lot of fun research, which is why it's a heck of a lot longer than I planned - and why I'm posting it multi-chapter.
I didn't intend to post this tonight, but I think all of you lovely people need some cheering up. I'm not sure what kind of schedule I'm working to on this, but I'll do my best to get it updated asap. Until then, enjoy!
"You ready?"
Alicia looked up from her desk to see Nathaniel Taylor staring down at her with a wide smile on his face. She matched it, standing. "Yes sir."
They walked in silence out of the command building, close but not too close, stopping when they met Jim at the bottom of the stairs. "Shannon, you're in charge for the rest of the day."
Jim looked a little surprised, but was well used to things like this being sprung on him by now. "Uh, yes sir. Of course. Can I ask why?"
Taylor inclined his head, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "You can ask."
"Okay... Why?"
"None of your damn business." Taylor said and Alicia laughed, following him as he walked around to the back of the command building.
Jim watched them go for a moment, thoroughly confused by their good mood and general... togetherness, before taking the steps up to Taylor's office two at a time. He stopped just before entering, noticing Reynolds was on guard duty. Taking a quick shift look around him, Jim sidled up to the younger man with a bright smile.
"Say, Reynolds. Don't suppose you know where they're going?"
Reynolds shifted uncomfortably, not making eye contact. "Not sure I should say, sir."
Jim nodded, looking out over the main square. "You know, I'm in command now, I could order you to do it. I'd rather not, but I could..."
Reynolds sighed, shoulders dropping a little. "We don't really know, sir. There are theories... They disappear to The Eye once every two weeks or so for an afternoon. Come back unharmed... for the most part."
"For the most part?" Jim echoed, curiosity piqued.
"Well, once the Commander came back on duty with a bruise on the base of his neck." Reynolds smirked. "But you didn't hear that from me, sir."
Jim grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "No, that'll be our secret. Thank you Reynolds, as you were."
#
Hidden in the base of the command building, behind the room containing The Eye, was the entrance to Taylor's secret hideout. He'd designed it for his own, lone, personal use. And had managed to keep it that way, right up until Wash became too damn curious about where he kept disappearing to and snuck in there after him one day.
Hell, had she told him off for keeping it from her.
The colony had an outdoor shooting range, used by soldiers and recruits on a daily basis. But sometimes one needed a little privacy with their recreational shooting practice. So, Taylor built himself an underground room with - according to the plans - an unspecified purpose, just beyond the Eye. It could be opened only with a hidden security pad, the location and code of which were only known to him.
If - if - you got through that first door, a narrow staircase led you underground and into a dark corridor. Then there was another, much heavier, door before you entered the ventilated room beyond. The shooting range he had designed was kitted out exactly how he wanted it to be, and could handle pretty much anything he wanted it to. It contained everything an old style range back in the early 21st Century would have, including paper targets, ear protectors and a wide range of guns that only fired projectiles.
There was something quite different about holding a weapon with solely live ammo inside, the heft and balance of the entire body was different when it didn't contain the circuitry necessary for sonic power. He was a traditionalist, enjoyed the effort involved with the upkeep of such a tool. So was Wash, he knew, which was why he really should have shared his secret with her much sooner than he did.
The first few times they'd jointly used the room (which had two lanes anyway, so it was quite possible he was always unconsciously preparing to share it) it had just been about getting her used to the weapons again. The recoil was greater on the old mechanical guns, especially on the rifles, and she ended up with a few jolts and bruises as a result.
He remembered the first time she'd prepared to fire one of his favourite assault rifles, holding it efficiently but completely unnaturally, in his eyes. Without thinking he'd moved behind her and aligned it properly, chest pressed against her back as his arms came around to assist. She'd fired beautifully, getting the target dead centre first time, but the way her breathing sped up and her cheeks flushed was not lost on him as he stepped back to his own lane.
Thinking back, it was probably that day that changed everything.
It started becoming a competition.
#
Their first few battles he won. With ease, almost, but he would never say so. He had more practice than her with the older weapons, had started serving during a time when knowledge of them was a necessity rather than a hobby.
She was better with handguns and the perfection of a sniper rifle, he with semi-automatics (all power, no precision, she had teased). She overtook him with the former first, landing a near perfect headshot to his slightly off centre one. Her resulting joy at besting him instantly erased all his feelings of damaged pride.
Once they started being more evenly matched, they turned instinctively to dirty tactics. He would set her target a metre back from his (she'd still hit it). She would replace his bullets with blanks.
And they would challenge each other to near impossible feats of gunmanship.
"Come on sir. I know I'm the sniper, but even you should be able to hit that."
"Even me, huh?" He asked, lining up the shot and making it. He stood and grinned. "You were saying?"
"Again." She commanded and he raised an eyebrow at her tone but complied.
Just when his finger was about to pull on the trigger she leaned over him and gently blew over the back of his neck. His finger slipped and so did the shot, hitting the chest of the target.
"Cheat!" He declared, standing up quickly enough that she had to take a few steps back to avoid getting hit in the face.
She simply smiled, heading back to her own gun to shoot three quick shots to her target's head and, for good measure, one to his. "Maybe you're just not good enough?"
He'd let her have her win that day. Made her run extra laps for the honour, but still. It was a start.
Besides. He soon got his own back.
Remembering back to how she reacted the first time he'd helped her alignment, he purposely chose the assault rifle for their next session. She looked a little disappointed when she saw it, but soon recovered, applying her ear protection before picking the gun up and falling into the correct posture.
She let off a few rounds, nothing spectacular, but always within the inner rings on the target. She missed the centre of it though and huffed, putting the weapon down and looking like she'd rather throw it at the target instead.
Taylor sidled up behind her, reaching for her hips but allowing no further bodily contact. He twisted his hands until she was planted firmly on both feet, shoulder width apart.
"Breathe, Wash." He whispered. "Nice and even."
"Easy for you to say, sir." She said, her voice barely audible.
"What was that, lieutenant?"
Wash sighed, picking up the weapon again. "Nothing sir."
His hands squeezed her hips and she positioned the weapon carefully, taking her aim. "Now, take your time. We're not in any hurry." He couldn't see her face but could feel the force of her scowl and chuckled softly. "You can't be perfect at everything, Wash."
"You can do it, sir. Can't be that hard." She retorted.
He grinned broadly at her sharp words, knowing frustration at both herself and him was the root cause, rather than anything more sinister. He took a step forward as her breathing evened out, pressing himself firmly against her and enjoying the way her calm, casual inhales and exhales became forced and heavy.
"Stop that." She hissed, adjusting her grip on the rifle.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." He replied, fingers splaying to rest over her lower stomach."But if I did, I believe you started it."
"Oh, we're playing it that way are we?" Wash smiled, setting her shoulders firmly and sighting the target. She carefully pushed back against him, allowing him to take some of her weight and he knew he tensed at the additional contact – and dammit, she knew it too.
She pulled the trigger, just the once, and the bullet hit the target dead centre. Wash exhaled heavily and put the rifle down, pulling off her ear protectors.
"Guess you're my lucky charm, sir."
It could only escalate from there.