THE EMPTINESS of the shooting range helps Ellie's thoughts. It's 4 AM. Her nightmares had her up in a cold sweat. She tried making tea like Ghost did and it was crap. So now she's got her gun propped and is practicing her long-range shots. Also crap.

She thinks she's cursed. She's never been able to figure it out. Close range, all day. No issue. These stupid rifles, however... she's had enough. Failure isn't something Ellie likes. When she sucks at something, it burns her up inside. She's leaned down into the scope, eyeing the target as she sighs heavily. Something shifts in the air and her head whips around to look behind her.

Ghost is standing there silent. She hadn't even heard him come in.

"Your stance is all wrong."

Her mouth falls slightly open. "Hello to you, too." She grimaces and turns back to the scope. "My stance is just fine, thanks."

"Your legs aren't near as wide enough."

The sentence makes her cheeks burn, and Ellie turns back to him again. "I'm doing fine."

His eyes flicker to the target. Sporadic holes litter it. Some are on the wall. "Target says otherwise."

She huffs and moves away from the gun. "Okay, smart guy. Are you willing to give me advice on how to be a better shot?" she hisses.

"I'll give you advice when it comes to you being a liability," he replies bluntly.

"A liability?" she scoffs. "I am not a liability."

"Get back on the gun," he orders, stepping closer to her. She does what he commands and soon she feels him right beside her. "Are you even aiming down sights?" he asks, sounding fed up. "Lower your head."

She listens. Her fingers are gripped tight around the gun. As much as she wants to be mad, she finds her cheeks flushed from a different emotion altogether.

"Legs. Spread them." She shuffles and he sighs angrily, using his large, boot-clad feet to lightly kick hers further apart. "You're in control of your weapon. Remember that." He's closer now. "Aim down sights."

She looks through the scope. "Like this?"

The feeling of his hand on her hair makes her gasp, Ghost maneuvering her down and to the right more. "Phillip not teach you where the sights are?"

She doesn't respond.

His chest is pressed against her back as he leans down, standing behind her. "There, that's it. Now breathe in deep." She does, Ellie, hoping he doesn't hear her heart about to jump out of her chest. All memory of him being a jerk yesterday is out of the picture. "Release and squeeze the trigger. Slow."

Exhaling, her now sweaty forefinger starts to grip the cool metal. When it's fully compressed a clear shot rings out. Ellie leans back away from the gun and stares at the perfect hole in the middle of the target's head.

She could punch him with all the different emotions he's making her feel right now.

"Again," he orders.

She gets back into the same spot, Ghost having leaned away now, watching her with crossed arms. She mimics how he just had her and the memory of his hand in her hair makes her stomach drop. She hits another headshot.

"Sparring practice at 0800. Don't be late, Miller."

He walks out and she feels herself release the breath she was holding. After unloading and packing up the gun, Ellie practically runs out of the gun range. She heads to her barracks. She needs a cold shower. On her way, she runs into Soap, about to make him drop the cup of coffee he's holding.

"Noo jist haud on!" he exclaims, Ellie apologizing profusely. "Yer looking a bit peely wally, El. What's gotten into you?"

"I need to go sit down," she replies, walking past him.

Soap watches as Ellie goes around the corner. When he turns back, Ghost is walking in the same direction she came from. At that sight, he smiles.

Ghost stops. "What is it, MacTavish?"

Soap nods. "Didn't know you had it in you, Lt."

"What are you bloody talking about?"

He smiles in response and nods over his shoulder. "She went that way." Soap goes past as he chuckles, leaving Ghost standing there in a slightly stunned silence.

—

Ellie is at the small gym before the requested arrival time, Ghost standing there, twirling a knife through his fingers. Great. She steps in and watches as he throws the knife at the target, it landing perfectly in the middle of the head.

"Are you just perfect at everything you do?" Ellie questions, watching as he grabs the knife.

"Grab one," he orders, gesturing to the table off to the side. He has an array of knives laid out.

She reaches for a long and slender knife. "Now what?"

"Try to stab me."

Ellie laughs, waiting for him to do the same. He never does. Her smile drops. "You can't be serious?"

"I am."

"I'm not going to-,"

Before she can finish, Ghost lunges at her, a feral look in his eye as he does so. He meant it. She dodges the attack and quickly gets in her defense stance. His long limbs are moving fast, Ellie hoping he knows how to hold back. She lunges for him next. He moves, of course. They're moving in sync somehow, like one lethal dance. Despite the height difference, they're evenly matched.

She misses a step and he nicks her. Lightly hissing, she grabs the spot on her upper arm where he got her. "So, we're playing that game?"

He lunges again, Ellie grunting as she hits his arms away. She slices in the air with the knife she had to choose. He's a split second ahead of her. Always. How a man so big can move so fast, she doesn't know. She thought physics would be more on her side.

When Ghost comes forward again, Ellie ducks, using her arm without the knife to elbow him in the stomach. When he's distracted by that, she slices again. This time, she gets him on his shoulder.

He pauses and looks down at the small cut in the fabric of his shirt. His eyes meet hers. Her back is against his chest from how she was still leaning into him with her offense.

"Drop the knife," he whispers. The weapon clatters on the floor, his following soon after. His large feet kick them off to the side.

Before she knows it, he throws her to the ground. She lands with a thud and sharp gasp, anger bubbling up as he tries to pin her. She rolls out from under him and kicks him in the back, making him stumble forward. When Ellie's leg goes to kick him again he grabs her ankle in his gloved hand and flips her. He spins around and tries to pin her again.

She scrambles from him and stands to her feet, Ghost doing the same. They both have their hands up in front of their face and are ready to attack at a moment's notice.

"That all you got, Miller?" Ghost teases, voice dripping with venom. "I've seen one-legged soldiers tougher than you."

She grits her teeth. Stepping forward, she swings her arm out. She doesn't hold back the force. He blocks it and does the same motion. Neither land the hit they want, the other person always deflecting it. Ellie's frustration is palpable.

"Will you just let me hit you already?" she growls, spinning into a kick.

"You have to earn it."

"Cocky Brit," she spits at him. When he goes into a hard punch, it connects with her jaw. Ellie stumbles back and grips the throbbing area. He doesn't let up.

Having had enough, she runs at him, wrapping her arm around his neck, and jumps. Using the force from her impact, she spins him around and then sweeps her leg under the back of his. He falls flat on his back. While he's on the ground, she can't stop herself. She crawls on top of him and straddles him, rearing her fist back to punch him right in the mask-clad face.

His strong hand catches hers and twists her arm at an angle it obviously isn't meant to go in. She yelps and he latches his thick legs onto her and throws her to the side. He pins her down underneath his weight and Ellie feels his hand gripping her throat. She claws at his hand and then his face, reaching for the end of the balaclava and yanking it upwards, trying to get it over his head. He immediately releases his grip on her and pulls her hands away from his face.

"Are we interrupting something?"

The sound of the voice makes them both whip their heads around to see Soap standing there with Alejandro. Both are smiling.

"Were you two about to kill each other or make out?" Soap asks, not hiding his crap-eating grin.

"We're done here," Ghost snaps, pushing away from Ellie.

Ellie stands, clothes disheveled and hair a mess. Ghost fixes his mask to cover his neck and stalks out of the room, slamming the door open on his way out. She lets out a big breath.

"What'd you do to him?" Alejandro asks.

"Nothing. I just exist and it's enough to set him off. He got started real early this morning."

She plops down against the wall. Soap takes a seat next to her while Alejandro grabs some knives and starts throwing.

"I saw you take him down," Soap says. "Pretty impressive, especially for a lass your size." He looks at her inquisitively. "How'd you manage it?"

"Manage what?" she retorts, picking at her fingernails. Her jaw hurts badly. "He practically beat the crap outta me."

"No, I've sparred with him before and walked away worse than you. You not remember my black eye and bloody nose a few weeks ago?"

"So, you're saying he went easy on me?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'm saying you're better at hand-to-hand than me. I'm a sniper. I can use a knife well if I need to, but I am not the most graceful. He's an excellent fighter and shooter. There's a reason Price got him on this team."

Ellie looks over at him. "What's the reason?"

He laughs. "Cause he's a killer. Without remorse. He gets the job done. They say if you see the skull mask, it's already too late. He's that fast and that deadly. Hit ya before you even know what's happened. Makes me sweat just looking at him."

"What's his story?"

Soap sighs. "I've only heard a few things... no parents. No family. He was captured years ago. Tortured. How and why, I don't know. Price does, but he doesn't gossip with me about it. I know the mask is a sensitive thing. He never takes it off. Or, he tries not to. It's to keep anonymity. I've never seen him with it off."

"Yeah, he drank tea with it the other day. It was weird. But funny." Ellie sighs. "Why does he hate me?"

"He doesn't hate you, Ellie. I think he feels the opposite."

Her eyebrows furrow. "I think you're feeling unwell."

He nudges her side with his elbow. "I mean it. If he didn't like you, you'd know. He wouldn't even acknowledge you. He cares. I think he's been through... a lot. So, he doesn't show it like you or I. You know I like you. Cause I tell you."

She smiles. "Yes, you do not hide what you're thinking.

"Never have, never will. Now, you need to hit the showers. Lt got you all sweaty." He stands and holds his hand out for her to grab to stand up. "I think he's just testing you out. Seeing if he can trust you. The way you came to be on this squad was sudden and, gotta be honest, a little odd. He was probably thinking you were Shepherd's niece or something, someone who isn't worth anything out in the field. Just with us because someone pulled strings for you. I think you hold your own though."

"Maybe you're right... he did show me how to aim a long-range weapon and get a good shot." She shrugs.

"See. He likes ya. Now go bathe."

TRANSLATIONS:
Noo jist haud on: Scottish for "Take it easy"/"Slow down"
Yer lookin' a bit peely wally: Meaning you look pale or ill