"I'm not sayin' nothin', Luc; well, 's not exactly true—I will say the little fucker prolly deserves everythin' he's got comin',"
"Zhat still does not change what 'as 'appened and zhat 'e is still in danger, Jack,"
Luc's expression remains the same in its stern, silent glare of disapproval. Sniper, who sits on the edge of his mattress, wrists placed in lazy exhaustion on his knees, can only sigh as the quiet between them prolongs itself the longer he mentally stews on a validating response.
"Well maybe you both need t'quit doin' shit you're just gonna end up regrettin' later—if Scout hadn't mouthed off I'd still be there," Jack snarls, and Luc, whose eyes find themselves landing anywhere but the Australian, watches instead the way Sniper's dirtied fingertips play with the lit cigarette the Frenchman had spared him a few minutes before.
"It's funny you should find it appropriate to lecture me about my apparent anger issues and 'ow I should best contain zhem, Jack," Luc begins, refusing to falter in his stance as Sniper lifts his head to shoot Luc an aggressive glare, daring him to utter a word that doesn't quite capture his fancy.
"I didn't exactly go in there with the intention of rippin' Larry a new one," Sniper chuckles, crushing the butt in an ashtray on his bedside table, dropping the dregs of his finished cigarette into it shortly thereafter.
"And you say you love 'im,"
"I ain't ever say I didn't love the mutant. I love him t'death, mate. T'Hell 'nd back, even. But he's grown, 'nd y'can stuff it if y'think I'm gonna chase after 'im if 'es gonna insult me 'nd not cooperate,"
Luc shakes his head, but still allows the man to finish his thought.
"You should not 'ave abandoned 'im,"
"Oi, I ain't hittin' kids, Luc, Lawrence is a grown man, 'nd if he wants t'risk crossin' me like that, then he better bloody well be prepared for whatever else I left 'im t'deal with,"
"What did 'e say to anger you so?"
"I mean, I go in there, Lawrence's dazed out his bloody' mind, my back is all bandaged up 'cause o'this tosser that can't seem t'leave either of us alone for whatever reason—'nd he has the nerve t'say it ain't none o'my bloody business!"
"Lawrence has a mouzh on 'im zhat will drive any man to such lengzhs, I will admit, but it was still a reckless idea to take out your frustration zhat way—you are zhe only one Scout truly trusts!"
"Apparently not, bugger wouldn't tell me why this bloke seems t'want us dead! Won't even give me that courtesy, eh!"
"And if anyone 'ad a chance at getting 'im to talk it was you. Nor do you not seem bozhered zhat zhe Doctor finds Scout's contidition worzhy of furzher analysis—psychoanalysis, no less,"
"Why in the world should I be bothered?! He kayun hayundul himself," Jack spits in a mocking Bostonian accent. "He's a Force a Nature, ain't 'e?! I'm tired o'dealin' with his bloody issues,"
"Jack, you know very well Lawrence cannot handle whatever it is Dmitri is doing to 'im zhat is making 'im 'ysterical! And by arguing and fighting wizh 'im you are putting distance between yourselves, and it would not shock me if Dmitri were to use zhis to 'is advantage!"
"Pfft, you're not makin' sense,"
"It would only make sense zhat Dmitri would make use of zhe convenience zhat zhe most menacing and protective of Lawrence's friends also now conveniently wants to bash zhe kid's 'ead in,"
"So then what d'you want me t'do, mate?! Go down there'n kiss his boo boos, apologisin' for a beatin' 'e's deserved since I first met the motherfucker, 'nd listen t'him go on 'bout how he doesn't need me'nd I treat'im like a kid?!"
"No," Luc sighs in patient frustration, the man's frame still propped in a relaxed lean against the wall. "Despite what it is 'e says, does, or means to say, or means to do, you are to look out for 'im and keep 'im safe at all costs, do you 'ear me?"
"You tellin' me what t'do, mate—?!"
"For God's sake, Jack, zhis 'as nozhing to do wizh you, or your pride, or you lack of ability to 'andle your own problems! You understand zhe frustration be'ind dealing wizh people of Lawrence's temperament, and as of now you are acting no different! Now is not zhe time to make Lawrence regret 'is words, Jack! If you lose sight of 'im I fear 'e will not make it out of zhis alive!"
"A little dramatic, eh?"
"If you do not see zhis zhreat and zhe danger in leaving Scout to deal wizh zhis 'imself for what it is, zhen you are no different zhan 'im and also deserve a bloodied nose and a sanity check," Luc snaps, and Jack says nothing in response.
"Lawrence is be'aving in a nature most like 'imself, Jack—being older zhan 'im you should be able to pick and choose your battles, and you are a fool if you zhink now is an appropriate time to engage 'im—'e's an insufferable little shit, and 'e 'as been my whole fifteen years of knowing 'im, zhough I know much better zhan to abandon 'im when 'e needs me most, whezher 'e believes 'e does or not—as should you," Luc's narrowed eyes bore into Sniper's, the Australian however externally firm in his stony anger.
"I 'ave 'ad to deal with more zhan Lawrence's words, but also his own physical wrazh, zhough I'll be damned if I'll let anyone lay a finger on 'im! Zhe boy still 'its me anytime I come close to 'im, or if I attempt to speak wizh 'im, 'e does not listen—but despite it all, Jack, I always watch out for 'im during battle—"
"You tryin' t'say I don't?! How many bloody times have I saved Larry's arse again?!" Sniper snaps, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand.
"Zhen you understand zhe importance of keeping 'im safe now, in zhis instance—I don't care if you get on your knees and lick in between 'is toes, 'nd frankly it concerns me very little if zhe two of you ever speak again—just do not forget zhat you love 'im, zhat 'he loves you, and zhat 'e needs you more zhan 'e needs anyone else,"
"Yeah, yeah..."
"So act your age and keep 'im safe, Jack," Luc grumbles, resting a hand on the man's shoulder. "Not zhat Scout's be'aviour was at all acceptable—but do not forget what it is zhat is important, 'ere—I guarantee you it's not eizher of your egos,"
"Whatever,"
"I am also very surprised you would let yourself be so bozhered by 'im so easily—did you not stop to zhink zhat zhe Scout who angered you so could actually be an imposter?" Jack inquires curiously, awaiting the man's response.
"'Course I did, mate—but it was 'im, I know it,"
"'Ow can you be so sure?"
"If Lawrence had accepted my help, broke down in tears beggin' for me t'chase away the spooks, I would'a known right away we were dealin' with a fake—nah, that dickish Lawrence was my Larry, I got no doubts there,"
"And 'ow do you know it wasn't Dmitri simply playing off zhis fact? It is not 'ard to play a part—"
"Doesn't mean you can play it well," Sniper grumbles, rolling his eyes. "You know better than I do, the little mutant's got an air about'im no one else can exactly fake,'nd besides, I saw it in 'is eyes—that was him,"
"Jack, zhat sounds ridiculous!"
"No, I'm serious! The Scout who tried killin' me at Granary had green eyes—I noticed'em before it was too late, but the one from yesterday, no, his eyes were as blue as Lawrence's always are..."
"In all of my years of service to RED as a man of espionage, I must admit I'd never known to check zhe eyes,"
"Well I imagine anyone in the past who's gotten close enough to a Spy t'notice somethin' like that didn't live t'warn the others. Jus' so happens Dmitri doesn't quite understand how an efficient backstab works,"
"Truly valuable information, Jack. I can only hope zhat Dmitri is unaware of zhis flaw,"
"I'd reckon he is, mate," Sniper mumbles inattentively, grabbing his vest from his mess of comforters upon his mattress, the Frenchman looking at him curiously.
"You are going somewhere, I take it?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna give Larry a visit,"
Sniper grabs his hat, placing it neatly atop his head.
"Heinrich may not let you in zhe bay—eizher 'e will not permit you entry or 'e will be worried you want to 'arm Lawrence furzher—"
"Hmm," Sniper concedes, his brow furrowing as he considers his colleague's words. "Still worth a shot."
-
"I am afraid I can't allow you in, Herr Sniper, no matter the nature of your intentions," Heinrich sighs tiredly to the man who gapes before him. "Now I vill not allow myself to be distracted by you any longer—"
"Oi, Doc, why in the world d'you smell like Formaldehyde?" Jack yelps, taking Heinrich's wrist into his hand and taking in a sharp whiff.
"I vould not suggest inhaling such chemicals!"
"You're not lettin' me in 'cause Scout's dead, right?!" Sniper snarls, Heinrich jerking his wrist back and patting his overcoat flat.
"Do not touch zhe gloves, I must keep zhem clean for my patients—!"
"Why in the Hell d'you smell like dead people, Doc&?!" Jack asks again flatly, glaring humourlessly at the German.
"I can assure you your Scout is in no way related to any scents I have on my person,"
"Alright, next question then—why won't you let me see Larry?!"
"Pardon if I come across as razher brash, Jack, but you must understand zhat ensuring zhe safety of my patient beziehungsweise my comrade, my friend, is my utmost priority!"
"'Scuse you, but I'm pretty sure you'n me both have our priorities lined up 'bout the same, mate—I mean, the one you're talkin' 'bout I just so happen t'be buggerin'—funny how that works out—"
"Your relation to him is zoroughly irrelevant—as is your sexual history—particularly ven Scout's hospitalization is stress related, he could hardly use anymore caused by you,"
"Oi, y'mean you're sleepin' nice'n easy knowin' one o'your own has it out for Scout, but I rough'im up after he gives me sass 'nd you're actin' like I wanna go in your precious little bay'nd pillage it'n steal your virgins,"
"You are not funny in ze slightest, Jack," Heinrich scoffs, looking the man up and down.
"Burn it to the ground—"
"I am not letting you in, Jack. You have not earned zat right,"
"'S not what it sounds like to me—"
"Zen perhaps you are not hearing me correctly," Heinrich snaps with raised eyebrows and lidded eyes, giving the man a condescending glare above his glasses.
"I don't care who you are, or vat your intentions behind your visit may be, it would be most irresponsible and foolish on my part to allow someone of your character—who has been aggressively inclined anytime I have personally interacted viz him—to visit his victim in a time ven rest is crucial to his condition should you vant him to recover quickly—"
"Are y'gonna let me see the mongrel or not, Doc—?!" Sniper sighs from weary finality, and Heinrich releases a huff of resignation through his clenched teeth.
"If you attempt to furzher hurt him in any vay..."
"I swear I won't—'s long as the kid keeps his mouth shut,"
"I mean it, Jack!"
"I do too!"
Sniper grins devilishly at the exasperated man before him, giving the man a second to protest his motion toward the door before heading towards it outright.
"Make it quick, ze boy vill certainly need his rest,"
"'E's not this fragile little squirrel, mate,"
"If ze Scout does not vant to see you, I can only ask zat you heed his request and leave him in peace,"
"No, I'm gonna punch the little bugger in the head 'til he lets me stay," Jack rolls his eyes, though Heinrich appears to be less than amused by the man's comment. "Was a joke, Good Lord, you Germans—you people ever laugh at anything? I ain't armed, Doc, 's no need to look at me like that," Sniper rolls his eyes at the skeptical German, who quickly motions to retract his outstretched arms as if attempting to hide his intentions to search the Australian.
"Lawrence, eh, Lawrence!" Sniper calls boomingly, looking carefully about the vacated beds. "Hey Doc, I don't wanna get your heart racin' or nothin', but—where the Hell is'e?"
Sniper turns his head to exchange glances with the startled doctor, who scurries about the medibay in silent franticness, checking about everywhere for the young man.
"Scout!" Heinrich calls as he rushes away toward an office in the back, Jack rooted with dread in the spot. "Larry!" He calls in a raucously accelerating worry, his eyes scanning the hueless, sun soaked infirmary in half hearted desperation—perhaps there was no need for the anxiety—surely Scout was around there somewhere—
The black and white tiles under Sniper's feet weave in and out of focus, as if he saw it all through mocking, kaleidoscope eyes. The granite and concrete of the walls weave about in an imaginary swirl of sea sickness, the graying minerals doing much to entrap the coldness of both the sterile clinic and the same chilling freeze within Sniper himself.
"Where are ya, love?" Sniper calls, lifting his foot and pacing about slowly, the other man caught in the bout of a frantic search. "Seriously, Lawrence, you better not be ignorin' me!"
"He is not in here at all, Jack!" Heinrich gasps, grabbing Sniper by his vest and dragging him a bit deeper into the infirmary, the two craning their necks upward, the same silent sense of realization washing over them both.
"Ze vindow is open, Jack,"
"How in the Hell did you manage to let 'im escape, Doc?!"
"I—I did not let him, Herr Sniper! I do not know how he managed to—to escape vizout making any noise, or in his condition, especially vizhin ze short time ve vere talking—"
"I broke his nose, Doc, not his legs," Jack rolls his eyes, cursing under his breath as he takes another look at the open window.
"But at this rate I'll be lucky if'e doesn't get his whole bloody body broken in half."
-
"…Know what will happen should you not carry out her request, Lawrence!"
Sniper presses himself closer against the wall, his breath catching in his throat as he desperately tries to repress it in its huffed noisiness. The mortar of the base's exterior brushes against his shoulder as Sniper in turn rubs along its width, inching in closer to better understand Dmitri's low, but oddly cheerful mumblings.
"Dude, I fuckin' know!"
Sniper's fingers curl in a reactionary instinctiveness against the brick at the sound of Scout's voice, the damp wall soaking up his creeping shadow.
"Then you should also know that you do not have time to be lying around under Heinrich's care, crying over such a little boo boo!"
"Hey, fuck you!"
"Honestly, RED's Sniper actually has you all riled up, leaving you like that! I thought the man loved you?!"
Dmitri's enthusiastic laughter is as excited as his own whisper, his voice soft,a sickening jolly lightness within his breast. Daring to lean forward ever slightly, Sniper catches a peek at the man's frame.
He'd never seen this Spy before—this fact truly being a feat of the man's talent for espionage—but, much like Luc, Sniper could only describe him as somewhat towering—particularly in comparison to Scout, who stands though still before him, crouching somewhat in a noticeable cower, as if nearing too close to his comrade would earn him more than a simple talking to…
"He hits like a fuckin' girl," Scout spits, and Sniper can't help but roll his eyes.
"I assume a girl has left you wizh a broken nose in the past then?"
Scout scowls as Dmitri partakes in yet another laugh at his own jab, Scout letting his hand brush subconsciously against his bandages.
"Based on what I have heard from Heinrich, you rather deserved the abandonment! I've always said you should watch your mouth, Larry, RED's Sniper has a Bushman's temper—!"
"So he's been talkin' to ya, huh?" Scout tries to sneer, but his hunched shoulders and hands crossed cautiously under his arms counter any sort of harsh indifference Scout tries desperately to convey.
"Who, Heinrich? No—though you should know better than to assume that a Spy is limited in his ways of obtaining information, Larry!"
"Don't you fuckin' call me that!"
"It means that I overheard the good doctor discussing your condition wizh Mikhail; which reminds me…"
Sniper's heart quickens as he leans closer to the two, Dmitri stepping closer to Scout. Jack stands tensed and ready to lunge forward should the man make any attempt to make any physical statements, watching the two more intently than before…
"Our comrades are starting to catch on, Scout,"
Lawrence's eyes widen visibly, the young man shifting them about nervously, his frame shrinking from anxious apology. "There is no need to be so afraid of me! It means nothing for me if they find out your little secret!"
Sniper growls, a protective desire welling within him, the man finding himself less and less able to stand by with each passing second—
"But when you do not uphold your end of the bargain, I am afraid I have no choice but to reveal it! And as much as I lovegood gossip it would be a shame just to rat you out after everything we've been through!"
"But you already did! She already knows!" Scout sobs, glaring upwards at the sighing man, who simply shrugs in response.
"Well then if the Administrator already knows..." Dmitri begins, patting Scout softly on the cheek. "...then there is nothing to get so worked up about!"
"Look, keep your hands off Jack, ya hear?!" Scout snaps in a menacing shortness, pushing the man's hand away. "Stop laughin'! I ain't jokin', this ain't funny!"
"No, of course it isn't—it is neither your predicament nor your request I find so humourous, but rather that you think it appropriate to tell me what to do! You're a real kidder, Scout!"
"Damn straight I do! And if you—you even try hurtin' him again—"
"What?" Dmitri chuckles, squeezing Scout's cheeks in his fingers, pinching them teasingly. "What in all the world would you do?" Dmitri chuckles in mock interest, Scout shaking from his grip. "Tell Heinrich? Just because he seems to have his eyes on you,"
"I'd fuckin' kill ya, dude," Scout interrupts flatly, his eyes narrowed aggressively.
"I don't understand why you would want to keep the man who tosses you aside so easily… clearly he can't be bothered to care as much for you as you do for him!"
"He ain't got nothin' to do with any of this, man—this deal was between you and me, so you keep him outta this!"
"Au contraire, as RED's Spy always says—if the man is your lover, then I would like to think he is just as involved in all of this! Inadvertently of course—after all, I'm pretty sure Jack has no idea you're so ashamed of people knowing you're fuckingthe man,"
"Can it, ya greasebag,"
"All I'm saying is, the Administrator's request—"
"I know what she wants!"
"So then what does it matter what I do with the Sniper?"
Jack flinches slightly as Scout brings a bandaged fist behind his head, swinging it forward to slam violently into Dmitri's wide smile. He falls back against the metallic wall, clutching his swollen, bleeding mouth. "I ain't fuckin' kidding, man," Scout growls, cracking his knuckles. "Next time it's gonna be my fuckin' bat; I'll fuckin' kill you if you touch him. I don't give a shit what the Administrator has to say, I ain't got nothin' to lose at this point,"
Dmitri pulls the ski mask over his head in one swift motion, revealing to Sniper the entirety of his thick, curly black hair, the ringlets falling lazily against what Sniper can only partially identify as a very distinct jaw line. Eying him quickly, Sniper has to admit the man had some rather stunning green eyes, the complexion of his flesh slightly darkened, for a hint of olive rests in his skin.
"Nice blow," Dmitri smirks, Scout however still fuming. "Touching, Lawrence! Your defiance and display on behalf of the Bushman is darling—though if you cannot let the Australian go, it will certainly mean death for you, the Administrator has alluded to this herself,"
"I ain't doin' it!" Scout hisses in a stubborn pout, balling his fists and turning to leave.
"Oh?"
"I ain't doin' it—I don't give a shit what you or her do to me!"
"But your Sniper? Certainly you would not want to hurt him by ignoring your duties and basically conceding to death? Scout?! Scout!"
Dmitri shouts after the young man, who throws the man an informal middle finger and nothing else in his enraged stride. Sniper on the other hand wastes no time in following after him, regardless of who sees him in his hasty sprint toward the fuming Scout.
"Lawrence!" he calls, wind rushing in his ears, his glasses bob against the bridge of his nose, threatening to slip off his face and crack instantly underneath his rushing feet.
"Lawrence, stop, please—!"
Scout makes an attempt to speed away as he always does, to leave Sniper miles behind him in his hysterical bewilderment. Scout's front crashes against the nipping metal, the young man grunting as Jack slams into him. He instantly curls his arms around Scout's waist so as to prevent him from escaping.
"Larry, you bloody idiot!" Sniper snaps as he turns Scout to face him, slamming his back against the wall. Sniper is actually shocked to see Scout's wavering eyes and their fearful dart across his face. He looked pathetic—absolutely pathetic; his nose and upper lip concealed behind the white bandages, Scout's frame nearly shivering under his arms (though whether it is from anger or the incapability to remain calm, he does not know).
His lip trembles as within his eyes a myriad of emotions cycle through in a million framed rotation, Sniper unable to pinpoint just which one it is that causes Scout to close his eyes and shake his head. Sniper slowly eases his grasp against the Scout's shoulders, the young man making no attempt to escape. "What's goin' on, love?" Sniper asks quietly, eyes narrowing as he shouts an exasperated "Huh?!" at the mute Scout he holds, shaking his frame as he still refuses to utter a word. "What was he talkin' about, what does the Administrator know, what does she want you t'do?!"
"D-Dmitri!" Scout mouths into his ear piece, eyes rooted on Sniper.
"No, don't—what're y'callin' him for?! Tell me what's goin' on, Lawrence! Please, love! Before you get killed!"
"Dmitri!" Scout shouts again, and the instinct to run overwhelms Sniper in a fierce wave, Scout eying him regretfully, as if widening in pure apology.
Sniper does just that. He runs, with a final look back at the Scout, who can only watch him silently in return.
-
"Why in the fuck would I lie about this sort of thing, Luc?!" Sniper snaps as the Frenchman asks him for the third time in five minutes if he is sure what he heard and saw was honestly to be believed.
"I simply ask because I fear zhat if I were to react to a false lead, it would only make zhings worse! Situations such as zhese require delicacy—"
"Dmitri was standin' there laughin' 'cause Scout's gonna die, mate! 'Nd I know it's reckless, but I'm only doin' what y'told me—"
"What in zhe world did I tell you?!"
"T'not let him outta my sight'n keep him safe; I know you might think my idea is rubbish—"
"Certainly not! Foolish, or per'aps reckless, but certainly not rubbish—on zhe contrary, I zhink it is a good one indeed in zhat it might work,"
"He took off his mask, too. Scout decked'im pretty hard in the mouth—I ain't ever seen the mongrel hit like that before—"
"Trust me, zhe boy can 'it razher 'ard if zhe urge strikes him—"
"But'e took it off t'make sure his teeth were still in place or somethin'—guy has this curly arse hair'n a real square jaw—"
"Did you manage to get a look at his features?"
"A little…'e's got these green eyes..."
"Hmm…well, I am afraid you will not be so lucky anytime soon—unless Lawrence gets angry enough to 'it 'im again, causing 'im to reveal 'imself; what did 'e say to make Lawrence so angry?"
"Kid got wound up 'cause he was makin' jokes about killin' me," Sniper reddens, and Luc shakes his head, coupling the motion with the release of an aggravated sigh.
"You two really are alike—unless you are simply rubbing off on 'im,"
"Look, Lawrence's absolutely torn up about somethin', 'nd if he won't talk to you, me, or Heinrich, then disguisin' as the tosser is about the best we can do,"
"A Spy disgusing as a Spy," Luc chuckles, taking a cigarette into his mouth and lighting it lightly.
"Did you notice if 'e 'ad a smoking 'abit?"
"All o'you Europeans do, eh?"
"But of course! Zhe same way every Australian 'as a kangaroo wife, non?" the man retorts, Sniper smirking and tossing Luc his cigarette case.
"Not the sheilas, I imagine they'd prefer Joeys; but get bloody goin', mate!"
"I am, Jack—"
"Go, go, go, go, go!" Sniper snaps, pressing various buttons in his disguise kit, Luc's cries of "Hey!" muffled as the device works as it typically does and shifts the man's appearance within a matter of seconds.
"Don't waste no time, 'nd don't forget t'laugh a lot—this bloke seriously had a case o'some fuckin' giggles…"
"I'd rather like to remain zhe only person wizhin 2Fort who hasn't suffered any sort of brawl related injuries,"
Sniper does a double take as the frame of Luc remains the same, save a paper plate with a pictorial rendition of Dmitri's concealed face that sits atop Luc's face.
"Hope you speak good Italian, mate," Sniper sighs leeringly. "'Cause your disguise sure ain't foolin' me,"
"Zhat is because we are allies, you imbecile," Luc mumbles indignantly, taking Sniper's advice and wasting no more time. Cloaking himself, he makes haste for BLU's base, and Sniper can only pray that Scout sees more to the man's disguise than a paper plate.
-
Scout licks his lips quietly, eyes about the field.
'All it takes is one moment. One moment, 'nd that's it…'
Gulping slightly, he tries not to allow the flow of words and second thoughts cloud his vision or separate him from his will.
'Just keep watchin' for him'
Sniper saw the bullet hit the dirt a few feet away from himself before the sound of its fire registered itself in his conscious; he jumped, sure. The sound of a bullet slicing the air in its wake was always a loud and jarring sound; especially when the sounds of battle were deafened due to the lack of combat, when the throttle of gunfire was once again back to being an extraordinary happening, a rarity of an experience.
It was all Sniper could do to keep quiet when he saw the bullet penetrate the dirt, the crack of a sniper rifle echoing across the light green fields and well into the cloudless, blue sky; and when Sniper craned his head upwards, eyes following the trajectory the bullet must have taken, his heart stops completely as if the shot had been on target, and a horrified Scout, sniper rifle cradled in his arms, stares at him, the two rooted in the same disbelieving shock.