Work Text:
The first time she wakes up from the nightmares, sweating and shaking, she goes to Yon-Rogg. He takes her to the sparring room, tells her to work things out with a fight, and ends up flat on his back after she loses control for one brief moment. The next time, it happens again - and then again, and again, and again.
“This isn’t working,” he eventually says, getting back up on his feet with a weary sigh, and Vers grits her teeth, torn between defensiveness and apology. Yon-Rogg runs a hand through his hair and casts her a rueful smile. “I have a better idea.”
Vers narrows her eyes. “What’s that?”
Yon-Rogg’s ‘better idea’, it turns out, is the shooting range. The next time she knocks on his door, he leads her there, hands her a gun, and walks off. Vers examines it for a minute, turns around, and walks right into Minn-Erva.
“I’m sorry,” she says, surprised, embarrassed. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Minn-Erva cocks her head, expression neutral. “It’s my usual time,” she says. “I’m more surprised to see you here.”
Vers glances away, exhaling. “I had another nightmare, and Yon-Rogg’s gotten tired of being beaten in a fight.”
For the briefest moment, the ghost of a smile flashes across Minn-Erva’s face, before it smooths back over into placid coolness. “Well,” she hums. “Ten rounds with a rifle should take your mind off things, and the row beside me is free.”
“A competition, then?” Vers grins, already feeling the remnants of the nightmare fading away. “I’d say you have an unfair advantage.”
“Of course,” Minn-Erva replies. “Isn’t that the fun of it?”
She leaves the shooting range ten rounds later feeling stronger for it, tension gone from her muscles, more ready to face the day. Minn-Erva reholsters her gun as they leave and gives her a nod. “If you ever want a rematch, you know where to find me.”
It’s an invitation, and Vers takes it in the spirit it’s given - the next time she shoots bolt upright out of bed after dreaming of blood, dust, fire, she throws on a jacket and heads to the range. Minn-Erva is there, selecting her gun, and she looks up when Vers enters. “Again?”
“Again,” Vers says, and Minn-Erva smiles, wide, rapacious, inviting. “Ten rounds. Ready?”
She goes, always. She never talks about what brings her to the range like clockwork, and Minn-Erva never asks - just nods towards the wall of weapons and lines herself up at an open spot. The same words, the same routine, every time. “Ten rounds. Ready?”
“Ready,” Vers replies - lets her world narrow down to a target, a gun, her finger on the trigger.
It’s nothing like sparring with Yon-Rogg, largely because she never wins. Minn-Erva is their sniper, Starforce’s elite, and handles her gun like it’s an extension of her body. Her ten rounds effortlessly hit the bull’s-eye, every single time.
They stop competing, after a while. Vers gets her to teach, instead. Minn-Erva watches her shoot and gives cold, quiet tips on how to improve her posture, how to breathe, how to be better, all around.
“Thank you,” Vers finally tells her, one day, after a long training session that lasts far past the sun coming up.
“I’m not doing this for you,” Minn-Erva says, and Vers knows - they are teammates, fellows of Starforce, effortlessly watching each other’s backs in battle and moving in tandem, but they are not friends, and this is no friendship. “It is important that you improve your skills, become a better warrior, more able to serve our people. This is for the good of all Kree.”
“Of course,” Vers agrees, but she’s smiling. “For the good of all Kree.”
“For the good of all Kree,” Minn-Erva later echoes, once more, when she pushes Vers up against the wall in the range, guns left forgotten on the tables, and kisses her, fiery, unrelenting.
They are not friends, and there is no love in it, no passion - but Vers kisses her back, tastes blood and ash and raw, undisguised want. Here there are no nightmares, no cold sweat and sour fear on her tongue, just surety, safety, knowing exactly where she stands.
Minn-Erva’s eyes are dark when she pulls back, gaze steady. Vers rests one hand against her jaw, just a breath away, and smiles. “Again,” she says, and lets herself go.