Disclaimer: After reading some articles about potential copyright legalities regarding fanfiction, I decided to make a semi-serious disclaimer. I don't own nor am I affiliated with Power Rangers: SPD in any way. This story is for pure stress relief, my own and my readers', and I am collecting not a cent for my work. Ree is my original creation.

Author's Note: The bits of Ree's backstory mentioned in "Night Watch" and "After School Visit" have been nullified by certain revelations in the episode 'Reflections'. Therefore, I will regard those two stories as AU from this and all future stories involving Ree.

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Impressions

He saw her on the outdoor distance shooting range, taking out plate after plate in the sky with good old-fashioned bullets. The targets weren't really plates; they were small white discs that launched from some machine in the tower to the right of field, and projected holograms while in the air to simulate moving targets. The holograms came in the craziest shapes—ducks, starfish, mushrooms, etc. Once the hologram was hit, it ceased and the disc went back to the machine.

This wasn't the first time he'd seen her. He vaguely remembered her talking with the other Rangers once. He also spied her in the mess hall early one morning with the Blue Ranger.

"Light brown."

She had a folded newspaper page in one hand, and a spoon in the other. She shoveled some cereal in her mouth before dropping the spoon in the bowl and pushing it towards the Blue Ranger.

Sky picked up the spoon and took a bite of the bowl's remaining content. "Ecru."

"Perfect!" She picked up the pencil and scribbled something on the newspaper page.

They went back and forth like that, five-or-fewer-words exchanges, all the while picking food from each other's trays.

Recalling that memory, he couldn't help but wonder what the relationship between those two was. They didn't talk about anything but the crossword, during the time he spied on them at least. He wasn't aware of any friends the Blue Ranger might have had outside the team.

And admittedly, he was curious because he thought she was cute.

He waited until she was reloading her rifle to approach her. He came from behind her, but she heard him first and glanced back. When she saw him, she laid the rifle on the ground and stood up straight.

"Sir," was all she said.

The formality was more distasteful this time than usual.

"You're pretty good at that," he remarked casually, nodding at the weapon on the grass.

"Thank you, sir."

"Name's Jack," he corrected lightly, half a second before he realized she probably already knew that.

"Thank you, Jack," she responded evenly.

Cute, but a little stiff. Probably not interested in him, or else she just wouldn't allow it. But her words had seemed almost teasing, like very subtle—too subtle—sarcasm, and though her expression looked neutral, there was a look in her eyes that he supposed was what people meant when they talked about eyes dancing.

"May I?" he pointed to the rifle again.

In response, she picked up the weapon and offered it out to him.

He didn't work with actual bullets very often. Training mostly involved laser weapons; shells were considered somewhat archaic equipment, especially in enforcement work. The rifle he held now was expectedly heavier than its laser counterpart, and he had to adjust his hold on it a few times as he sighted down the barrel experimentally.

"Why don't you use a laser rifle?" he asked.

The cadet had moved to a few steps behind him, and was holding the control for releasing the targets.

"I like the challenge," she said simply.

"I see," he turned slightly to glance at her from the corner of his eye. "You won't be using these much in the field."

"Yes, sir."

He made a face, but he was a man not easily deterred from his goals. Though he was tempted to glance back at her, he did not; he simply adjusted the rifle one last time and asked her to send out some targets.

Another "yes, sir" was followed by a beep.

He couldn't shake the feeling that she was purposely trying to annoy him—and succeeding—but it couldn't have been anything in her manner, which was impeccable. And he'd be defying protocol himself if he told her to cut it out. He focused on his original plan, and turned his attention to the first wave of targets that were beginning to fly.

A purple starfish got it right in the eye, and a mushroom had its cap completely blown off. Three other targets were whizzing around the same area in the sky, and an eager smirk crossed his face as he waited for them to line up. It was a tough shot, what with the distance of the field and the fact that things like gravity and air friction altered the path of actual shells, but he squeezed off one bullet, and felt a surge of satisfaction when all three holograms shattered. He had practiced that shot for weeks, after the fiasco with Sky's upstart alien friend.

He glanced back at the cadet with a confidently cocked brow, and was met with a sterile gray gaze.

"Another round, sir?" she asked when he didn't say anything.

He guessed she wasn't very impressed.

"Why not," he hitched up the rifle again. "Turn it up a level this time."

"Yes, sir."

The movements of the targets were a lot more erratic this time, and a higher degree of precision was required to make them disappear. Quick reaction was required also, as these targets tended to dart away at the last moment.

He'd intended to show her exactly why he was the Red Ranger, but he soon found the little hitch in his plan. She seemed neither impressed nor intimidated by him. He had had his share of cadets who either glowed or cringed at his attention, but they were usually D squad recruits. She was a C-class cadet, and was probably a good deal less green than her D-class counterparts.

Well, if he couldn't impress her right off the bat—and he found he liked the unexpected challenge—he'd just have to find an excuse to keep her company longer. Maybe until she got the hint that he wasn't after protocol.

When he finished with the targets, he turned around, appraised the weapon a little, then held it out to her.

"Try another round," he said.

She looked a little puzzled now, uncertain of his purpose out here, perhaps even a little suspicious of it, but she said nothing of it.

"Yes, sir." She came forward and accepted the rifle. He took the target control from her and stepped back to watch her orientate herself with the weapon. Her stance was very performance eval quality; weight perfectly distributed, arms at a specific angle, even her fingers were in the exact position as was taught in Weapons class.

"Ready," she said.

She probably thought he was out here for some sort of unofficial inspection, so he decided to use that ploy as his excuse to linger. He pressed the button on the control, and realized too late that the targets were still set on a higher level of difficulty. He stepped a little closer to her, so he could give her helpful pointers as needed.

The white discs began to emerge, and she immediately blew one from the sky. With a silent and deadly concentration that even he could feel, she took down the rest of the targets one by one, each shot having no less gusto than that first one.

She turned smartly on her heel to face him, and he blinked. Not green at all.

"Satisfactory, sir?"

"Very." By now, he figured the close contact defensive drills excuse wouldn't work with her either.

"Exceptional marksmanship, cadet."

"Thank you, sir," she paused, then added, "It's my best area."

He nodded. "What's your name?"

"Ree Atlantis, sir."

He finally had a reference for her face.

"Was this too easy for you?"

"A bit, sir," she answered.

"I see," he pretended to contemplate a moment. "I certainly hope your commendable skill isn't going unnoticed."

She allowed a very slight, satisfactory smile. "Perhaps you can put in a good word for me, sir."

"I might just have to," he rubbed his chin. "Tell you what. I'm going to go get myself another rifle, and when I come back, I want you to show me exactly what you can do. Sound good?"

Suddenly there was a confident, almost arrogant look about her. "Yes, sir."

He raised an eyebrow at her less-than-neutral demeanor, and to his surprise, she actually smirked at him. Just a little.