Work Text:
Sniper squints his eyes, sunlight entering through the window of his caravan. Groggily sitting up, he blinks the sleep in his eyes away. Although it was a ceasefire day, he didn't fancy sleeping throughout the whole day.
Going through the morning routine, the tall man glances at his calendar as he boils water for his morning brew. Immediately his mood downcasted; tomorrow would have been the official date she was declared dead. They had found a body buried a few miles away from the house robbery, years afterwards. Initially, the bodies of your parents were found in cold blood, lifeless in the living room. Valuable belongings were not accounted for, only concluding that it had been a robbery. The case could not yet close for a long time. Police suspected that there had also been a kidnapping. The body of a 16 year old girl wasn't found. At least, not until years later.
Subconsciously, he abandons the heating kettle, turning around to his wardrobe. Reaching to the back, he pulls out an old photograph. It had been a photograph of you and him, taken by his parents while the two of them were in their early teens. Anyone can see the photo was well-loved, creased and folded obscuring the girl’s face. The scene depicted her with a tarantula in hand with a cheeky smile; and Sniper, shielding himself with his arms in the middle of laughing. Along with the photograph. As much melancholy it gives him, he couldn't bear to get rid of it.
Setting the memorabilia back in place, he hears his kettle hiss. Making good use of his time, he pours himself a mug of coffee and begins to sip. He was suprised when she had not come to his caravan. She was never one to be late. After an hour, he made the decision to jog to her house. What he didn't expect, was police tape all around it. He was confused for days until the local newspaper broke the news. Beyond devastated, he engaged himself into his work. Shooting. As he became better and better, he lived a more and more isolated lifestyle. What was the point of friends or lovers if they could never amount to her? She had been his best and only friend; and unbeknownst to her, his first love.
With nothing better to do, and a lot on his mind, he grabs his rifle and makes his way toward the main building, intending to practice some shots.
“Oye! Snipes- Yous just in’ time. Paulins here.” He hears Scout call as the bushman passes the lounge room. “We’s was bout to call you.”
“Hey Miss Paulin! I got Snipes!” Scout calls, dragging the man into the room. “Miss Paul-”
Scout did a double take as Miss Pauling was no longer standing there. Instead, another girl stood in her place.
Spy, reading a sheet of paper, ranged from emotions of confusion to caution.
“Gentlemen.” The Frenchman clears his throat. This was not needed as the rest of the men had their attention set on the new person standing in the room. “It appears that this is our new teammate. Ze Chemist.”
“Hey.” She greets with a quick wave. This was reciprocated with a few of the men waving or greeting as well.
“HELLO MAGGOT. I AM SOLDIER.”
“Mornin lass! I'm the demoman, you can call me Demo.”
“Hello. I am Heavy Weapons Guy.”
“Guten Abend Frau.”
Were amongst other greetings. Sniper simply waved and curtly responded with “Sniper.”
“Oo whats the paper say?” Scout hurriedly bounced over, shoving a few of the men out of the way.
“Miss Pauling wrote you were a chemical warfare specialist,”
It felt as if time stopped as she stopped to think,
'How did you get here.'