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Sniper was a professional.
There was no person in the RED team who was prepared to dispute that. They may make fun of him for it. Find ways to poke holes in how he handles himself or how good his work is, but they could not take away the fact that he was a sniper. He was their sniper, and he got the fucking job done.
That was just a fact and that was his life and that was what he knew about himself. That was how he identified himself, that was the standards he held himself to, and that was the thing that made his life have meaning.
If he could not keep up that presentation, then what was the point of continued existence?
These were the kinds of questions he’d realized he needed to either reconcile or put down at a certain point. Of course his job was everything to him, it was where he found his release. He found a comfort in the distance and isolation he needed to live in to complete it.
He was able to come into his own perched up in a tree rather than on the tilled dirt with his family. They needed to look up at him to ask him to come to dinner, bu the could see them coming from more than a mile away.
He protected, he cultivated, and he created himself up there above the populace. It was where he was at his best.
At the same time, though, he needed to shrink himself down to do it.
To get that kind of job done he needed to be silent. He needed to be steady and quiet and ready. There was no room for his personal problems or qualms. There was just him and his rifle up there. The task at hand ws enough to get him through. It gave him a reason to keep going, but also one to ignore any problems he may have personally.
He was holding his breath for things to change, but too afraid to do it himself.
He knew time would have it’s affect, but why did he have to be the one to affect it too. Wasn’t it just easier for him to move through life picking up job after job and losing himself waiting for his target? He didn’t need to exist at that point. He just needed to be the finger to pull the trigger.
He didn’t need to be there to be the one to kill someone, he just needed to get there to pull shoot the shot.
That was the easiest way to live for him.
Don’t think, don’t act, don’t talk, don’t cry, don’t scream, and just don’t be.
This was the path he’d chosen for himself. This was the consequences of his actions, and he couldn’t even be upset about it.
He wanted this for himself. He was content like this for so long and it was easier for him to survive like this. Why should he try and fix it now? What was the point of trying to improve any of this quiet, internal, self immolation now?
Well, Scout was one reason.
He certainly knew how to stumble in and crash a party with no regard for the damage he would leave, especially if it was someone’s delicately built life.
The immediately disturbance he felt when he first had to experience one on one time with the speedster stuck with him so much that he found himself struggling to make shots if he was in the area. Something that he was so used to succeeding in that to suddenly lose that ability was infuriating and terrifying.
Why did that idiot have to be the one to make him crumple into pieces?
It didn’t even make any sense. He was the complete and total opposite of everything Sniper had taken to heart in his life. Most obviously, he couldn't keep quiet to save his life. That was literally the number one thing that Sniper needed to exist, and Scout could rarely hold his tongue longer than a few minutes.
Still, the way his cheeks would get hot around the biggest fool of the mercs counted for more than he was expecting, especially when they both ended up at his camper one night and things escalated quickly.
Scout certainly made up for Sniper’s lack of experience with his years of hard work, though men were just as much of a surprise for him as it was for Sniper, in some areas.
This world shattering action was just one step toward shaking up his status quo, but it was enough to leave him feeling more adrift than he anticipated.
It was already clear to him that his attraction to Scout was more than just lust. This was no ‘one night stand situation’ nor ‘friends with benefits’ one either. Rather it was something more genuine and strange for him, love.
Thankfully, it was mutual too.
However, by all means, it felt too easy for him.
How could he go from total personal isolation to having someone who wanted to be his companion?
It didn’t feel right, it didn’t feel real, and it certainly didn’t feel reliable.
A new tightness settled into his chest because of it. Normally when something like that would happen it would go away in a few hours, maybe a day at worst. Yet he found it sticking with him day after day after day.
Nearly every mission had him noticing a wave of annoying buzzing consume his body, and his throat feeling tight, only to then be horribly tired after. It was annoying an unnecessary and made him feel pathetic.
Why was he being plagued with this? There was no clear issues for him to pin down as the cause. Hell, even on the job there was no reason to explain it’s on set. It just sort of happened, and he was getting real tired of it.
Especially when he was with Scout.
It really didn’t make sense in those moments. They were normally just hanging out in his camper. Scout loved to lounge spread out on his bed while he sat there with him. If anything it would be considered the ideal scenario for him since it didn’t involve gambling with the chance that Miss Pauling or The Administrator would notice them. So there was no reason for the tightness to appear in his throat and for him to find it harder to breath.
He was breathing, yes. That much was obvious since he didn’t start choking on the spot, but it still felt like he wasn’t. His chest ached in such a way that he wanted so badly to scream.
It didn’t make any sense at all, yet there he was. Sitting on his bed, Scout sprawled across his legs with a magazine in hand, and his breathes were becoming erratic.
He knew he could breath, he knew that he was breathing, but the constricting sensation was too much. He was already inherently panicked by it, and then he decided to more obviously show it. Which, to his dismay, got Scout’s attention.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’, Roo, nothin’s wrong. Just go back to sittin’ there an lookin’ pretty, okay?”
“Don’t get nippy with me, Snipes. Yur breathin’ all weird and shit. Actin’ like yur fine ain’t gonna make me worry less, you big dummy.”
Sniper very obviously rolled his eyes as Scout sat up and put his hand on his chest, “Jesus, yur breathin’ so fast. What the hell is wrong?”
“Nothin’ is fuckin’ wrong! That’s the bleedin’ problem.”
Scout’s fingers curled inward in confusion, his body recoiling slightly as well, but at most he looked perplexed. “What do ya’ need to do then?”
“I don’t fuckin’ need to do anything! I never need to do anything. Its just bloody there makin’ me feel like shit.”
“Okay, no, I meant, like, do ya’ feel like ya’ need to do anything?”
“What?”
“Like, so, when this happens is there anything ya’ want to do but don’t feel like ya’ can?”
Sniper stared at him in total confusion but still got what he meant in the end, he just didn’t want to commit to it.
“Don’t look a me like that. Don’t ya’ get what I’m sayin’?”
“No, I think I do, I’m just not sure.”
“Not sure about what?”
Sniper’s eye darted away from Scout as he tried to find some way to articulate the innate feeling that came with these situations. It made sense to him that the extra lump in his throat was from his body begging to release sound, but to anyone else, he assumed, it would sound crazy.
“Snipes, come on, whatever it is it’s okay. It’s just us out here.”
“Roo, its just a lot for me, alright? You ge that, don’t cha?”
“Course,” Scout scooted back from Sniper to try and give him more space, “but I don’t want ya’ to ignore somethin’ just cause I’m here.”
Sniper gritted his teeth before looking back at Scout again. There was a genuine look of concern on his face looking back at him, and it made his breath shudder. “Alright just, I’m sorry if it’s a lot.”
“Oh, Snipes,” Scout cracked this really stupid smile, “yur always a lot, baby.”
“Shut it. Don’t fuckin’ call me that you god damned wanker.”
“Don’t like the new nickname, baby? And here I was thinkin’ you’d be thrilled.”
Sniper let out a breathy chuckle, tilting his head downwards as he shook it slightly as well, before he just started screaming.
Scout flinched back at the surprise, but immediately settled into the understanding that this is what Sniper needed.
He kept doing it over and over again. With each deep breath in he started to feel tears well up in his eyes as well, but it never stopped him from tearing his throat apart to let the pain out.
Every part of him that had been held down deep inside came spilling out. There was no reason for him to stay quiet anymore. No, he needed to be loud.
He needed to be known.
He needed to be heard.
And he needed to know that he really did exist.
He’d left a mark on this godforsaken plant, and he was going to have himself be realized in the loudest way he could.
Eventually, he slid forward as his hands moved over his face and is screams morphed into rough sobs. He wanted to be heard but he couldn’t keep up his anger. No, instead all the aches and pains and betrays and fear was bubbling up to the top.
He didn’t need emotions to commit an execution, so why did he need to acknowledge them at all. At least, until those same emotions made themselves known within him.
Scout moved closer as Sniper’s cries turned to shaky sobs, and his hands wrapped themselves around his hunched over form. He was promptly met with Sniper’s arms wrapping themselves around his waist and his body leaning against his.
He felt Sniper’s tears seep into his shirt and every shake of his partner’s body as he took in air, but it only served to make him pull him closer.
“It’s gonna be okay, Snipes.” He tried to comfort, “I’m right here for ya.’ I’m not gonna go anywhere.”
He leaned his head down until he was able to lay a kiss on the back of Sniper’s neck, and his arms began to lightly rub circle into the back of his sniper’s back. It felt meager to him. He didn’t have any grand words to offer to make it any better, but he was there. And if that was all he could do by god was he going to do it to the best of his ability.
It wasn’t that big of an issue though since Sniper refused to let go of him for the rest of the night. The two stay connected as he kept randomly breaking down for no clear reason. It was scary in it’s own way because neither knew how to fix anything. All Scout could do was offer his support and all Sniper could do was let himself fall apart.
There was so many layers to work through and this was clearly barely touching the surface. Though, Sniper would admit in the morning, that it was obvious a step in the right direction.
He’d first started this path by letting Scout in, and now he’d have to walk the rocky road of unpacking the deep emotional distress that lay just beneath the surface.
At least, if nothing else, he knew that he could rely on Scout for whatever those next steps would look like. Especially, if he needed a shoulder to cry on.