One would have to look closely to see Sniper's wrist moving at all. The soft scratching of the toothbrush's bristles against the bolt action rifle is the only indicator of the man's physical presence. Jack's teeth are clenched so tightly, his jaw threatens to crack through his neck, his eyes lidded, tense and narrow. He knew himself to be a patient man; a man ready to wait for the sake of success, though it becomes harder to do so.
What was a Sniper without an ability to dote patiently, to tarry upon his prey? Yet Scout wasn't prey, a hit, or a target; he transcended beyond a means to an end for the Australian. Contradicting the whole of his nature, Jack slams his rifle against the table, running his hands through his hair in an exhausted sweep. The van returns its owner's frustration with an echo of his snarl and drop of his neglected firearm, the vehicle perturbed in its own right that the man interrupted the silence of the air so suddenly.
'It shouldn't take two fuckin' hours t'find 'im, Luc...' Sniper's growls from restlessness. Even in his anxious state, the Australian still maintains an eerie composure of his frame. Snipers were typically precise and patient; it was part of the profession.
'Be patient.'
Yet patience and complacency, the role of the sitting hen, did not guarantee Lawrence's safety.
''Nd if that wasn't really Luc? What if that was that bloody BLU Spy, pretendin' t'be Luc, 'nd sayin' he'd go find Larry that way I'd stay back here 'nd not go lookin' m'self? Nah - the BLU Spy wouldn't have a reason t'search for Scout if he already knows where he is...'
And Jack sighs, shaking away his paranoid thoughts against Luc.
'Maybe I shoulda went with him...'
Sniper lifts his gaze from the coffee table, noiselessly dropping the blackened rag he'd used to clean his rifle against it. Taking the aforementioned gun into his grip, a thousand possibilities burn in his mind's eye a thousand in one images—images that, despite their delusional distortions and misconstrued perceptions, congeal the flow of Sniper's blood and depress his sense of reality, replacing it instead with fanatic images of Lawrence's demise.
What if he were trapped away somewhere? What if he was being tortured? Beaten? Mutilated, raped, burned, scarred—it didn't matter what—but rather that Sniper didn't know what.
Lawrence was a tough young man. Jack knew this and was far from the man to deny it. The fiesty Bostonian he'd come to fall in love with had not earned his iron thick reputation by being a brittle little boy. Resilient, persevering, and packing a unexpectedly heavy punch, he was no damsel. Regardless of his fast tongue and sure about demeanour, he certainly could not be described as invincible.
'...The bloody—?!' Jack grumbles as a short knock raps against the camper door, eying it for a few contemplative seconds before springing from the armchair.
'...'S'bout time Luc came back!'
The closer Jack comes the door, the louder blood floods his ears with ecstatic pounds. Opening it quickly, his expression drops at the sight of the man who was not Luc at all.
"Herr—Herr Sniper, I—Ah! No! Calm down—!" Heinrich steps backwards, the German wailing as Jack picks up and aims his weapon at his person, absolutely fuming.
"Please, Herr Sniper, lover your veapon! I svear I mean no harm—!"
"OI, Y'IN ON IT TOO, DOC?! Y'KNOW WHERE LARRY IS?! Y'COME T'SADDLE ME ON UP T'THE SLAUGHTER TOO, MATE?!" Sniper warns the whimpering Medic, whose bottom lip trembles under a heavy gasp.
"Jack, please, get a hold of yourself!"
"Right, 'nd what else 'm I s'pposed t'do, with Lawrence missin' 'nd a BLU at my front door?! 'M I jus' meant t'let y'waltz right in?!"
"For God's Sake, Jack, it is because of Lawrence zat I am here!" Heinrich bellows, eyes still narrowed cautiously on the barrel of the man's gun, his brow no less wrinkled with disgust.
"Look at you, you're gettin' all crosseyed..." Sniper taunts, Heinrich's eyes darting watchfully upon the slightly blackened rifling of the firearm.
"Ve do not have time for zis, Herr Sniper...!" Heinrich hisses, brushing past the man and into his van from urgency. His eyes are quick to meet the Australian's, filled with silent resolution and understanding. Heinrich can see the dregs of Sniper's torn up conscious within the man's grey ones, his porous skin cracked and unkempt from hours of stress and worry.
"Right 'nd how do I know you're not really a piece o'shit Spy, eh?! Lettin' the bloody beast into me own van... "
"Ach, for God's sake—a year ago, you vere viz Scout—in ze Medibay—you—he vas hurt, and you—you zreatened to kill me if I did not save him! Now is not ze time to ask for silly passvords and memory checks—! Not if you vant Scout—!"
"What about Lawrence?" Jack interrupts quietly, shotgun lowered at his side. "Y'know where Scout is?!" he chokes. "Heinrich -"
"I vant to help you find Lawrence - I heard zat you vere disturbed by his disappearance as vell. You see, our comrades-"
"With all due respect, I dont give two shits 'bout much other than findin' him," Sniper snaps simply, Heinrich raising his eyebrows indignantly. "I see you have not changed in aggression since ze last time ve met, Herr Sniper,"
"Circumstances haven't changed much, Doc, Maybe we should quit crossin' paths when Lawrence is dyin' or AWOL or whatever the Hell else," Jack mumbles jokingly from the corner of his mouth as he lights a cigarette indignantly. Heinrich wrinkles his nose as the smoke billows its way about the camper's sitting room, choking the breath of the Australian's unexpected guest.
"Jack, ze Scout has been missing since Tuesday,"
"Aye, I know it. Was with 'im Tuesday night, or at least I thought I was. Turns out it was Spy pretendin' t'be him. 'Nd yesterday, at that Granary, the same one tricked me again. Tried killin' me, actually! I reckon I haven't seen the real Lawrence 'n about a week, 's been nothin' but Spies pretendin' t'be him,"
"Ach, du Scheisse..."
"'Nd if it weren't for Luc gettin' me off the field before I could get finished off, I wouldn't be much help searchin',"
"Finished off?"
"Aye, mate. The same Spy's been disguisin' as Lawrence seems t'want me out o'the picture 'lright. Bloke tried doin' me in at Granary. He was one o'you lot, too. Bet the mongrel's related t'Larry's disappearance, I jus' know it..."
"Vat? Zat, zat's nonsense! Vy vould he have anyzing to do vizh Larry missing?" Heinrich quesions gravely, shifting in the armchair.
"Beats me, Doc!" Jack snaps in mock cheeriness, flicking ash from his cigarette before pincering it in between the corners of his lips. "All I know for sure is that my boyfriend's vanished without a piece o'shit t'go off, 'nd your BLU Spy seems t'want me t'not notice 'nd dead, respectively. Doesn't help his case that his stepdad seems t'think that Scout's problems with'im could be tied your lot's Spy shapeshiftin' 'nd abductin'. Larry. He musta pissed 'im off or somethin', like Larry's good at doin', 'nd your Spy's not takin' it so lightly..."
"How strange, Scout alvays comes to me viz his problems! Ve talk so much, and he hasn't said anyzing about trouble viz Dmitri,"
"Dmitri's 'is name—?!"
"Yes—Scout certainly vould have mentioned him if somezing vere wrong; he enjoys complaining—zough he has been a bit more anxious and less talkative in the last veek—but again, I know nozing! And on top of zat I simply cannot comprehend vy he vould vant to hurt his own comrade? Are you certain zat you and Luc know Scout's disappearance can be traced to him?!"
"'Course I'm not, Doc, but I'm also not gonna sit around playin' sleuth. I ain't got a problem pointin' fingers, 'nd waitin' t'clear up which direction I oughta be pointin' in, 'til I got Larry with me. I'm gonna find 'im myself,"
"Zat is not necessary Jack, for I believe I may have found him,"
"WHY DIDN'T Y'BLOODY SAY SO?!" Sniper bellows, Heinrich flinching just slightly at the volume of his voice.
"Because, I - I cannot be sure!"
"What's goin' on, Doc?!" Jack asks through gritted teeth.
"Luc is viz him in our base now. He figured he should stay, because if anyone can coax a Spy out of a disguise, it is anozer Spy—he seems to also be convinced it is Dmitri's doing zat Scout is missing,"
"Oi, 's 'cause it's the only theory that makes sense..."
"'Nd zat as his stepfazer, Luc knows everyzing about him. He could tell us better zan anyone vezer or not zis Scout is an imposter,"
"True," Sniper grunts, grabbing his hat from the coffee table and placing it atop his head. "Enough with the chit chat—where is he'nd let's go,"
"In ze Medibay, but is a given zat Luc vas able to sneak into our base wizout issue. You are not a Spy, however, so please stay close to me!"
"Fine, jus' get me to'im, please!" Sniper pleads, and Heinrich nods. The two waste no more time, sprinting in the direction of the base.
-
"Oi, this looks familiar," Sniper mumbles darkly as he stands before the Medibay in BLU's basement.
"As it should—it was here you brought Scout in ze past,"
Sniper jumps as the steel door opens, the Frenchman poking his head through, absolutely fatigued.
"Jack!"
"What did you find out?! 's it really him?!" Sniper rises instantly, Luc backing up slightly as the man nearly mows him down in his excitement.
"Zhat—zhat—I am not sure—"
"How can you not be sure, 's Larry or not?!"
"Ve found him here, in ze basement near ze intel, razher...off, Heinrich's voice shakes as his eyes dart nervously across Sniper's stony face. "At zis point ve cannot be sure of anyzing. He seemed just a little confused, but he absolutely refused to speak to us,"
"'We' who—?!"
"Vell—I found 'im," Luc sighs, as if this fact drained him of all energy.
"Does anyone know y'got him?"
"No—I—Luc told me not to alert anyone ven he saw me viz ze Scout,"
"I zhought it would be best to 'old an interrogation witzhout interruption from or zhe influence of 'is comrades. I 'ad 'Einrich keep Lawrence in zhe basement until we 'ave reached a conclusion to zhis nonsense,"
"Oi, makes sense, but why in the world won't 'e talk to you?"
"I tried asking him vere he has been, but he vould not respond,he said it vas none of my business and to let him leave ze bay,"
"When Lawrence refused to cooperate I decided it would be best to let me talk to 'im while zhe Doctor went to retrieve you. When 'e saw me, it goes wizhout saying Lawrence was 'ighly displeased. I 'ad to restrain 'im, 'e kept attempting to punch me,"
"Restrain 'im? Doesn't sound too pleasant..."
"And of course 'e would not say a word when I asked 'im where 'e's been and what it is 'e's avoiding, why Spies are trying to kill us, and why zhey are disguising zhemselves as 'im,"
"Then let me talk t'him," Sniper nods.
"Are you sure it is a good idea? He does not seem fit for interrogations. He almost appears to have been drugged, zough I have not had ze time to administer any tests," Heinrich whispers.
"Look mate, I'm goin' in there'n talkin' t'him no matter what, so quit with these stupid questions 'nd let me deal with him, 'lright?! He trusts me, loves me, 'nd I reckon I might be the only one who can make any sort o'progress on this shit with 'im at the moment," Sniper spits, Luc leaning to whisper in Heinrich's ear.
"'E's quite passionate about zhe safety of your comrade, Doctor,"
"Y'don't mind waitin' here, do y'Doc?" Jack asks the German respectfully, who allows Jack to slip through the Medibay's door without another word.
-
The lights are still impossibly bright as the day he had rushed Scout to the bowels of his base. The same immaculate white swells the sanitarium, void of either warmth or cold.
The same smell of sterilization and latex, Sniper notes, is as heavy and perfumy as it was before as well. He catches a glimpse of Scout, who sits tied up against a hardwood chair in the middle of the room. And as his mind flashes memories of the day he had found Lawrence in the sewers, Sniper realizes he would give anything to deal with a brutally injured Scout than someone who may not even be the young man at all.
"Jack!" Lawrence calls worriedly as he lifts his head, eyes blinking rapidly as he looks Sniper's frame up and down.
"Hey, love," Jack whispers calmly, falling gently to his knees in front of the young man, so as to better make eye contact with him. No dirt on his skin, clothes untorn— brown hair in order, blue eyes of regular size—no bruises, or signs of swelling...
Jack sighs a rigid, relieved sigh, Lawrence sitting before him seemingly untouched despite the mystery of their circumstances. His sigh staggers into a quiet, breathy laugh of disbelief, and Sniper rests a hand against the palm of Scout's cheek, the young man smiling into the Australian's gesture. Both men seemingly at peace at the very real touch of the other, they allow a quiet minute of affectionate registration of the other to pass before looking directly into each others's eyes.
"What in the bloody Hell's goin' on, Larry?"
He felt rather guilty over his choice of words. An I love you would have been much more appropriate, Sniper rationalizes. That he can talk to Scout at all, that he was not murdered in his absence, is a miracle in itself. Scout swallows, saying nothing.
"I've been hysterical the last two days, love!" Sniper explains, Scout puckering his lips subtlely, silently requesting a kiss—
Jack complies, but quickly.
"Where'n the Hell have you been?! What's this Dmitri been doin' t'you?! What the Hell did y'do t'get him so riled up like this?! 'S this what you meant, when y'said you—when—two weeks ago, when I had that cold, 'nd you were worried it wasn't me who ya—ya—?"
Sniper scratches behind his neck.
"...buggered?"
It's obvious due to Scout's twitching lips and strained face that he means to respond. Shaking his head, he says nothing, however.
"C'mon, sweetie, if y'don't tell me what's goin' on, I can't help you!"
"Are you ok, Jack?" Lawrence asks quietly, the utterance of the question draining him of any healthy flush.
"Oh I'm fine, Larry. Confused, worried sick over you, sure, with a BLU Spy out for my head. But you're here, I'm here with ya; I'm fine..."
"Jack..." Scout begins, shaking his head, eyes overwhelmed and wide.
"Yeah..."
The Australian doesn't even feel his hands rush to untie the rope bind the young man to the chair. Unraveling and falling to the floor with a light thump, Jack is nearly sent to the floor as Scout flings his raw, rope burned arms around Sniper, burying his face into his neck.
"I've been so worried, love..." Jack mumbles. "Terrified y'ed been killed..."
"No, you ain't gotta worry. I can handle myself, Jack," Lawrence mumbles, as if afraid that speaking in a louder tone would further cause more questions to spew from the tense Australian.
"Y'can?! Y'sure, love?! 'Cause, I mean...I'm havin' a hard time believin' it! D'you mean t'handle it by disappearin' for days on end'nd then showin' up again nearly out of your mind in a basement?!"
"I—was tired, Jack—I've just been tired these last two days, and—I was sleep walkin'—"
"You mean t'tell me," Sniper begins in a mockingly light tone, stripping himself of his glasses and folding them patiently.
"That you've been asleep the last two days, 'nd that you're just now gettin' up from this slumber o'yours?"
Scout reddens, chewing on his lips. He brings his expressionless gaze to Sniper's however, giving the man a distinct nod.
"Really?" Sniper cocks an eyebrow, his forehead furrowed from insulted disbelief.
"I'm pretty sure your team would'a looked in your room before classifyin' ya as missin' for one, mate, 'nd I'm more than sure you would'a been woken up from yesterday's battle had y'really been there," Sniper explains slowly, and Scout shifts in his chair, looking anywhere but at Sniper's critical stare.
"What's goin' on, Lawrence!" Jack snarls. "What are y'hidin' from me?!"
"Nothin'..."
"Don't you lie t'me, Larry. Don't y'dare sit here, tellin' me you were sleep walkin', not when I've actually been here, worried sick over you, unable t'sleep, thinkin' you were dead! Don't tell me this is nothin' when that Spy tried killin' me, love! 'Nd he almost did! 'Nd obviously he has it out for you too! I don't have time for you t'lie t'me like this! Not when it's our we've got t'worry about!"
"Why can't you ever just trust me, Jack?!"
"You're bein' kidknapped, Lawrence! Drop the act, love! This fuckin' Dmitri bloke is over here tryin' t'kill me, 'nd you're pissy 'cause I maybe want t'know what the fuck 's goin' on?!"
"Who said he was involved in any of this?!"
"'Lright, fine. Who else is gonna backstab 'nd shapeshift into you around here?!"
"Try Luc, the one who's been makin' my life Hell for as long as I remember!"
"For God's sake, Lawrence, your stepfather is not tryin' t'do you or me in! I understand he was wrong, that he was terrible t'you growin' up, but you need t'get over it'n recognize this threat for what it really is before y'end up missin' for good—!"
"Gow in the Hell can you just expect me to get over gettin' abused, Jack?! How 'bout you just get over havin' a dad who's fuckin' disgusted with you! See how that works out!"
"Listen here, posie, this is gettin' real bloody silly real bloody fast, Larry, 'nd I can't believe you think I'm stupid enough t'fall for sleepwalkin', that y'don't think I don't deserve t'know the truth!"
"What fuckin' truth, Jack?!"
"That this Spy is dangerous, 'nd out t'do some serious harm t'you, for whatever reason! 's why I'm beggin' you t'please, please, Lawrence—put whatever the Hell prideful shit it is that's stoppin' ya from explainin' what's goin' on 'nd just tell me what it is he wants from you, 'nd why the Hell he's goin' through all these lengths t'get it!"
"Maybe it's not none of your fuckin' business in the first place!" Scout spits, and the two share a silent, heated glare.
"Maybe I can handle this without you, maybe it ain't your problem! You can tell Luc'n Heinrich'n whoever the fuck else to quit gettin' mixed up in shit they ain't got nothin' to do with anyway! This is my business, my problem, I'm takin' care of it!"
"I think it becomes my bloody problem too when whatever it is you're doin' is makin' this bloody tosser wanna kill me! 'Nd y'better bloody believe 's my problem when you're in danger!"
"Dude, forget Dmitri, forget any of this, 'cause no one asked for your fuckin' ass to dip into any of this!" Lawrence roars, eyes rooted on Jack's, though he shudders slightly, for the Australian's eyes are cold and murderous.
"I didn't ask t'get involved, Lawrence, but I'm pretty sure gettin' a knife t'the back might drag me into your little conflict!"
"Well then solve it for yourself then, quit tryin' to figure out where I've been! I can deal with my own problems, so you deal with yours! I didn't ask for no fuckin' hero—" but Scout is cut short as Sniper pulls his fist back, though he drops it at the last second. His quiet anger does not subside regardless. The two stare each other down quietly, Jack rising to his feet, chest heaving.
"'S that how it is?!" Sniper roars, and Scout wails as Sniper grabs onto his shirt, the fabric of his shirt cutting into his collarbone. "Then here's a new little problem for you t'deal with, y'little shit!" Sniper snarls, tossing the young man to the floor. "I'm done. Solve your issue yourself. Keep your lies t'yerself, mate. The bloke can leave y'gutted in a bloody ditch for all I care, Lawrence! Good luck takin' care o'this on your own, mate!"
"Jack, no - Jack, wait, please!"
Sniper shows no signs of hearing Scout. He instead continues toward the steel door in a livid stalk, leaving the medibay without another word, thought, or look back.