Duel
A Ricochet Vignette
1800 hours
She was just starting to mingle with the rest of the team, stretching the limits of her tolerance, mixing up the tables she crashed at during mess. She found quickly that she liked the other Marines, Gung Ho and Leatherneck. It was easy to laugh with them. Part of her was grateful she had been wounded in action, as it gave her time to watch the interactions between the team, and to find a place to slowly, gently, ingratiate herself. Still, her daylight hours only carried her so far, leaving Ricochet to comfortably look forward to the depths of the night.
No one was really sure what triggered it. Gung Ho thought it had something to do with how the tray clattered like a weapon when it was thrown down. But the easy, laughing smile they had all grown to know faded from Ricochet's features. She turned slowly to see the source of the noise. Low Light merely nodded his head once, and straddled the bench across from her. She leaned forward to take the strain of sitting off her back, and interlaced her fingers together.
Gung Ho carried on with stories about his little sister, while Ricochet locked gazes with the table newcomer. Low Light couldn't help but grin as he settled down. Eye contact was made, and somehow, it had begun.
1900 hours
No one really paid them much mind as they filtered out of the mess hall after dinner. After all, everyone was accustomed to Low Light ignoring them when they bid him goodnight. Green eyes locked with blue, both of them knew what this was. A test. Patience, endurance. And awareness. Nothing between them shifted when the lights automatically dimmed. Low Light still held the same faint grin he had when he sat down. His dinner sat untouched, cooling steadily on the tray between his elbows.
They both sat in almost identical positions, leaned forward slightly, chins resting upon their interlaced fingers. The challenge had been his, but he admired her for not shirking away. She knew that he wasn't going to give up. It was a test of her patience, and her ability to keep still. They both let their minds wander to keep themselves occupied, multitasking was the sniper's best weapon.
0500 hours
When morning rolled around, Lady Jaye was the first in the mess hall for breakfast. She paused beside the table, laying her hands flat. She didn't say anything at first, peering into each of their faces. Both snipers acknowledged her presence with a slight nod, never taking their eyes off the other. Jaye blinked in surprise.
"Have you been at this all night?" she asked, loudly. More Joes began to filter in behind her, some pausing to see what the snipers were doing. "Seriously, have you two slept?"
Ricochet's lips twitched with the desire to answer her, but she didn't do anything more than crack a smile. Flint came up and laid his hand momentarily on Jaye's back, catching her attention. "Leave 'em be. They're obviously too wrapped up in each other to notice any of us."
Low Light began to color slightly, a flush of anger burning red in his cheeks before he could master it. Ricochet's quiet little grin widened a bit. Around them, life carried on in the Pit as normal.
0700 hours
"Are they like, statues or somethin'?" Bazooka pressed his finger into Low Light's shoulder. He was answered by a low growl, the only sound to exit either of them thus far. Bazooka jumped backward, while Alpine chuckled at his expense. "Okay, creepy. Those two are creepy!" Bazooka kept muttering to himself as he snatched his breakfast tray away.
Once his klutzy buddy had moved on, Alpine patted Ricochet's shoulder. "Give him a run for his money, honey." He whispered conspiratorially. He watched her brows rise and fall in acknowledgment, even though she never took her eyes off Low Light. She had decided about twelve hours ago that she liked his eyes. When they weren't hidden behind those infrared goggles he adored, they were a pleasant shade of blue. They were eyes that had seen a lot, lined and haggard by his years of military service.
As conscious as she was of Low Light's constant eye contact, she also had half her attention on the presence of Leatherneck and Wetsuit behind her.
"This is one hell of a sniper duel." Leatherneck observed. He was noisily wolfing down a sandwich.
"I thought sniper duels were done in the field, with weapons and movement and such." Wetsuit countered.
"Shows what you know."
"Hey! Not only am I smarter, but I'm better lookin' 'n you!" Wetsuit's voice raised, strained. There was the sound of impact, which probably meant that Leatherneck had slugged the Navy SEAL. Ricochet sighed softly. Low Light's brows went up, asking her a silent question.
He didn't miss the very slight negative shake of her head.
The challenge was still on.
1100 hours
Ricochet's back was starting to ache. Sitting stationary for three days didn't seem to be doing her muscles any good. Cross Country had started up a betting pool after breakfast, and all around the two of them wagers could be heard and deals were being struck. Low Light was the two-to-one favorite for the win. It was that simple fact that made her want to beat him. But she knew, that the strain was starting to show on her face, that the desire to stretch out would soon be too much to bear.
Like Wetsuit had mentioned, classic duels were held out on the field. Jockeying for position, getting the better angle for a shot, moving and carefully waiting for that perfect moment. They weren't meant to be sitting less than four feet apart, locked in eye contact. Sometimes it felt too personal. Like maybe he could see a little too much, like he already knew what went on behind her eyes.
Neither of them looked away when the familiar tread of combat boots drew near. General Hawk set his helmet down beside Ricochet, but took his seat beside Low Light. She raised her brows in question, while Low Light narrowed his gaze, closing off the silent lines of communication. Determined not to give in first, Ricochet pulled in her lower lip, and bit down, fighting the urge to speak.
Hawk sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "There's no nice way to say this," he precluded with a shake of his head. "Call it off. I can't afford to have my sharpshooters falling down on the job because you haven't slept in days."
Low Light's mouth tightened, making the harsh lines deepen.
"This isn't a request. You two have thirty minutes to resolve this, before I get Law involved." Hawk sighed again, rapping his knuckles against the table this time. "Thirty minutes."
He rose slowly, collecting his helmet before stepping away. Low Light's mouth relaxed slightly. Ricochet waited for a few moments, her brow furrowed in consternation. He nodded, just once; she returned the action. They broke eye contact at the same moment, easily rising to their feet. Low Light rolled his shoulders, to crack his neck, while Ricochet arched her back slowly, hands in the air.
They still remained silent as they started toward the exit. Gung Ho was quickest to grab Ricochet's arm.
"Well? Who won?"
They didn't miss a beat, answering in the same breath of a moment.
"She did."
"He did."
