Okay, I needed to go to bed but this is one of the stories that I HAD to read when I saw it had updated. I'm so glad you're writing more of it! This is also one of my favorites. It always tugs at my emotions, no matter what is happening.

Would it be all right if I emailed you, Doktor? I am presently writing an odd Spy/Soldier fic of my own and I would love your opinion on what I have thus far, if you didn't mind.

Hm. This Spy Soldier relationship is still something I don't know if it's poised right.

But, I do like the idea of Spy at the very least, crushing on him at the moment.

I was so excited when I saw that this had updated, and I was greatly rewarded. Can't wait for the next chapter.

>>129

I don't mind anyone emailing me. :P I'm actually quite boring in real life, though.

Short, I guess. Hope it works.

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A week passed by. All battles were halted, with no real explanation from the Announcer, but a little poking around by Engineer in the computer systems turned up the fact that BLU was having a 'personnel problem'. Spy could guess at what that meant – how long did it take to find a suitable replacement for a Sniper, she wondered.

Pure conjecture, of course. She might feel a little pride at having broken him so thoroughly, but in reality, she only felt a profound sense of relief that she would never have to see his face again.

The team took advantage of the break, even as some missed the usual bouts of warfare. The tedium was largely broken up by reading, chess, cards – anything to keep hands and minds occupied. Medic also took it upon himself to properly organize the infirmary, with Heavy's help. Spy stopped by to lend a hand as well, and to talk.

Soldier did not take to it very well. The enforced inactivity seemed to make him more antagonistic every day. She couldn't blame him, really; he needed to fight like he needed to breathe. He still patrolled every evening, and spent much of the day cleaning his weapons or doing calisthenics. She patrolled with him, and spent the rest of her time beating Sniper and Demo at poker.

One night in his bed turned into two, then three, and then he finally relented and let her stay indefinitely.

She didn't usually wake before the six am alarm, but tonight her dreams were filled with battles and guns and, for some reason, clouds of dragons that exploded into confetti when something hit them. The early morning light coming from the window suggested it was some time just after dawn. Spy yawned and pulled the sheet around her, dozy and already drifting away again.

Soldier was wrapped around her, one arm under her head and across her torso, and the other tucked tightly around her stomach. They both lay on their sides, her back to his chest, with his nose buried in her hair. Warm and comfortable and safe, but she felt a little stiff. No way to avoid waking him up, and she could only hope he wouldn't be too bothered by it.

Spy twisted and stretched, enjoying the feeling of relief that spread through her limbs. Soldier stirred a little, making an indistinct noise of irritation, and pulled her in close again. A long huff of breath warmed the back of her neck, and she turned towards it sleepily.

Hm. Not completely comfortable. Something jabbed into her hip, hot and hard. When her mind finally registered what it must be, Spy sat up and scrambled away so fast that her shoulder hit the wall painfully.

A number of things rushed through her mind all at once, as Soldier snorted in surprise and woke up with a jolt. Shock, confusion, disappointment. Not him, please – he was supposed to be different! But what if he's not, an insidious part of her asked; what if he's just like all the rest and he's been using you. The sense of betrayal nearly overwhelmed her.

“Goddamnit, Frenchie, what time is it?” he said, then saw the look on her face. “What's wrong now?”

Her gaze flicked downward for a moment, and he took notice of his bulging anatomy. His expression fell, settling into frustrated defeat, and he swung his legs out to sit on the bed. “Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes distractedly.

She said nothing. This changed too much between them, made her question too much of his actions. She didn't want to. Soldier – Jean – was supposed to be the exception. The one who didn't see her that way. Who just... let her be herself.

“You better get outta here,” he said. He didn't look at her. “You're not allowed stay here anymore, private. You sleep in your own bed from now on.”

She had to know. “I thought you were different,” she said softly.

“I'm not a goddamn saint, alright?” he snarled, turning to her and looking genuinely angry. “I wasn't expecting you to come running to me, and how the hell was I going to say no after what he did to you? I didn't expect -” He stopped, abruptly, and looked away at the opposite wall. “The only desirable woman I've met since puberty and she turns out to be a fucking psycho,” he said under his breath.

“You... like me?”

“Yeah, I like you, Frenchie,” he snapped. “I knew you were something else when you kicked Scout in the nuts and pulled a knife on me. I was never going to do anything about it because, A, you're a teammate, and B, you killed the last guy you were with, so do me a favor and GET THE HELL OUT!”

She grabbed her clothes and ran, and didn't stop until she was back in her own room. Her only thought was to dump everything on the floor and curl up in the cold blankets.

This wasn't supposed to happen. She needed him, and she couldn't afford to be afraid of him. Foolish, so foolish, asking a man to not be a man... Why did you trust him? Why did you believe he wasn't like the others? The way he makes you feel safe, is that a lie too?

Spy shivered, having no answers to any question her mind cared to ask. Her body wanted to be back in his bed, in spite of it all. The prospect of never being there again made her stomach clench. Advice, she needed advice, and help.

She needed to talk to Medic.

REJECTED.

Oh lawd. I'm surprised and I'm not surprised. Please continue.

Poor Solly. I'm amazed he could resist having morning wood for that long. I like that it was ruined by sheer physiology and not him suddenly propositioning her.

I hope she'll be able to be with him in the end but it'd make perfect sense if she can't. Even before the horror of rape, Spy was incapable of really experiencing or actually finding an equal relationship with a man. Then her psychosis exacerbated the unfortunate situation, demonizing even the things that weren't actually a display of male chauvinism (though, if the man was chauvinistic enough, it's not impossible damn near everything he did was chauvinistic.) But maybe I'm thinking too hard about it or even getting it wrong. It's a touchy subject, after all.

I'm eager to see what Medic will make of the situation though.

Medic needs to explain to her that morning wood is caused by a full bladder pushing against the prostate.

As understandable as Spy's state of mind is after her traumatic experience, she can't seriously expect Soldier to be the exception to the rule that human beings piss.

YES! An UPDATE! And oh shit, what an update.

I knew something was gonna happen to change their current status quo... I didn't think it was gonna be this. Like Dove, I love the fact that it was something totally out of Soldier's control that threw the wrench in. I'm privately amazed that it took so many mornings for that to happen, or it may have just been the way they were curled together this time... Regardless. LOVE it.

And you cannot imagine (or well, maybe you can) just HOW HAPPY that last bit makes me. I love that Spy has gone from equating Medic with NAZIDOGEVILBASTARD to thinking of him when she needs advice and help and someone to talk to. That warms my black little heart. I just adore this story all around, I really do. You write one of the best Medics, I swear, as well as everyone else. Don't stop ever.

Heyo. I was the anon that was all "eehhhh, not too sure about current romance..."

I am here to say that I...

am ok with this. I certainly like where this is going. Ah, poor Solly. You really think she'd realize that that's not the type of thing dudes have control over. Mostly.

>>136 I... I did not know that. I probably should have, but I didn't. Filing away to mental archives for further research.

You know, I really did think Spy and Soldier's relationship would be purely platonic, and this is definitely not what I expected. However, I find I actually sort of like this development, along the lines of what Tare and Dove said.

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS DOING ON THE SECOND PAGE.

BUMP. FOR GREAT JUSTICE.

This story cuts me to the very soul, it does. MORE FOREVER.

Much thanks to TwoRefined for beta-reading this...

----------------------------------------------------

A whole day of sneaking around under her cloak, avoiding Soldier and the others after the Announcer declared that the battles would resume tomorrow. Spy was starting to go stir crazy, even as the base came alive again and the team bustled around, checking their weapons and ammo, eager to get back into the fight.

Medic had insisted on full checkups for everyone, and the infirmary was constantly occupied. She finally stayed in her room and tried to do anything to take her mind off the current situation. She even tidied up and rearranged everything to burn off the nervous, restless feeling that pervaded her mind.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. All men are like that, aren't they? You're just meat to them; convenient, walking, talking meat for the taking. You should never have trusted him. He would have turned on you sooner or later, just like all the others.

She stretched out on her bed, thinking. You're stronger than this, he said. The words had rung with faith, so unshakable that she believed it too. His hands. His warmth. The way he always looked at her face. He desired her, and he always looked at her face even when she was naked in front of him in the showers, and he let her sleep in his bed, in his arms, and he never once did anything but keep her safe.

HE WOULD HAVE TURNED ON YOU LIKE THE OTHERS, HE'S A MONSTER LIKE ALL THE REST, DON'T FORGET, DON'T FORGET -

A knock at the door. She sat up in fright, hand going to her knife by instinct, but nothing more happened. After a moment, Engie's voice called out to her.

“Spy? You in there? Medic says ya gotta go in for the check-up after dinner.”

“Oui, I am here. Thank you, I will go to see him then,” she said quickly, trying to regain her composure.

“Alright then, see ya later...” His steps faded away down the hall. Spy stared at the door. Everything felt a little more unreal, a little less solid.

She did not go to eat like she usually did. With her cloak hiding her from sight, she crept into the infirmary and waited for Medic to return. That took almost an hour, at which point she felt like she had paced a groove into the floor. Heavy was with him, as always, and once again she had to feel a little annoyed with herself for not spotting their relationship sooner. It was so obvious, the way they unconsciously turned towards each other, the way their hands always accidentally brushed together.

She decloaked, which surprised them both. Medic took it in his stride, however. “Ah, good – Heavy, if you please? I must give Spy her check-up.”

The big Russian smiled at her, even as he looked a little put out. “Did not think Spy would be here so fast. Talk later, da?” He nodded at Medic, and left them alone.

“Just a few zings I must do... ein moment, bitte,” he said as he retrieved a clipboard and pen. He locked the doors and pulled down the blinds before he saw the confused look on her face.

“It is for your sake – I vill give you as much privacy as I can for zis. I vill not have vun of ze ozzers coming in here unexpectedly.” He scanned the clipboard, tapping the list of tests with the pen. “Some of zhese are going to be uncomfortable for boz of us, I imagine...”

She caught the pen. “I need to talk to you,” she said quietly. “I need advice.”

Medic put the board back on his desk. “It is Soldier, ja?”

“How do you know that?”

“I did his check-up earlier. For vunce, he did not insult me or make any reference to my nationality or to ze Nazis.”

Spy smiled a little at that. “Does he usually...?

“Every time, for as long as I have been giving him medical care.” Medic patted the examination table. “Sit up here, and tell me about it.”

She did so. Medic had turned into something of an odd case, in her mental categorization of men. The revelation that he was gay and a rape survivor had abruptly shunted him out of the list of men to wary of and into a grey area that couldn't be easily defined – not unlike the way she thought of Soldier, but definitely not the same. He sat up beside her, and rested his elbows on his knees while he waited for her to talk.

What to say, what to say... her thoughts were too jumbled for this. “Soldier likes me,” she said abruptly, and then mentally berated herself for sounding like a complete fool.

Medic just looked at her over his glasses. “Is that all?”

“It is not – I do not know, it is just – I thought he was different, and he is not. He is like the rest of them. Like the BLU Sniper,” she said bitterly. “I do not know what to do about this.”

Medic stared at his hands for a few moments before replying. “Tell me what happened, zhen, zhat you vould zhink zhis about him.”

“You know he let me sleep in his bed?”

“Ja, so you have said. Vhat did he do?”

She paused, feeling desperately awkward. “I woke up early, and he had... what... men sometimes get in the morning. I woke him up when I jumped away from him. And then we both said some things, and he told me to leave. So I did.”

He smiled faintly. “I zhink I understand. Men cannot control zhat, you know. It is a biological reflex, and nozzing to do vis you being zhere.”

“He told me as well. He said he would never do anything about it because I am his teammate and – because I killed the last man I was with.” She put her face in her hands. “I do not know what to do about knowing this. I wish I had never learned of it.”

Medic touched her shoulder gently. “Tell me, liebchen, vhy do you zhink zis makes Soldier like ze BLU Sniper?”

She looked up at him. “Because it means he is like all the rest of them!” she said, he voice thick with anguish. “I am just a body to them, not a person! Like, like meat that they can take and use and throw away when they are done! The other men I have been with, they were just like that – they said that they cared for me, but in the end I was just a, a thing that they wanted to control. And I have...” She drew a hasty, choked breath. “...I have been in his bed and in his arms, and I cannot think about it now because he might have...”

He put his arm around her, and waited for her to recover a little. It wasn't just the feeling of betrayal, she realized – there was also fear. Not the kind that had so recently tried to consume her; this was poisonous, insidious stuff that made familiar things suddenly threatening. She was afraid of Soldier.

“I wish I was with him, even now,” she said. “He makes me feel better.”

Medic rubbed her arm comfortingly. “It is somevhat ironic, zhat you are telling me zis, you know.”

“Why?”

“I am a man as vell. Do you zhink I am like all of ze rest of zhem?”

She gave a short, humorless bark of a laugh. “You prefer giant, bald Russian men. You might as well be a woman right now.”

He chuckled at that. “From your perspective, ja. But I am still a man, and I do not see you zhat vay. I never have. And I zhink Soldier does not see you like zhat eizzer.”

“But how do you know?”

He shrugged. “I do not, really. Call it a gut feeling. Soldier has never struck me as being zhat shallow, for a start. I did not believe he had an interest in anyzhing ozzer zhan fighting until you arrived.”

“When I arrived?

“Oh ja, I suspected zhen. I have many years of experience, vatching for ze signs of attraction from men who hide zhem. It vas ze vay he did not look at you, you see. He vas being far too careful.”

He'd always wanted her. He'd been hiding it. The sense of betrayal worsened. “That does not really help me,” she said.

Medic sighed. “Desire is not a bad zhing – it is simply a part of us. Vhat is good or bad is how ve act on our desires. To be hurt, as ve have been hurt, makes us afraid of vhat ozzer people desire from us.” He squeezed her shoulder, and let her go. “Soldier desires you, but he has done nozzing but care for you vhen you needed it ze most. I zhink you know, deep down, zhat he vould never hurt you like ze BLU Sniper did. Besides, do you really zhink he only vants your body? A strong, intelligent voman like you?”

“He still told me to go away.”

“Vell, I never said he vas smart or entirely sane. But he is honorable, and he means somezing to you. Remember ze night vhen you knocked me down in ze hallvay? You vere hurting, and you ran straight to him.” He leaned forward onto his knees again, looking rather thoughtful. “Do you desire him?”

Spy honestly had no idea. The feeling of needing Soldier in some undefinable way didn't seem to match up to anything else in her experience. She was not unfamiliar with lust, and the strange urge to be as close to him as possible wasn't the same at all. “I do not know,” she said. “It does not matter really.”

Medic took one of her hands in both of his. “Vhat you vant alvays matters,” he said emphatically. “Never forget zhat, liebchen. Some men might see you as an object, but you cannot zhink of yourself zhat vay. You must believe zhat you have value, because you do. Ve all do, no matter vhat happens to us.”

Easy enough to say. She still had moments of self-doubt, even though she knew he was right. She leaned against him, and put her head on his shoulder. It was still good to have support, and understanding. “I still do not know what do do about him.”

“Just talk to him. I zhink you are judging him too harshly, but I know you vill resolve zis somehow. You fought ze Nazis, after all – vhat is vun American to you?”

Spy laughed quietly. “What indeed,” she said. “Thank you.”

“You are velcome.” He patted her hand. “Ve vill do ze check-up tomorrow evening. Go see your Soldier tonight – zhat is more important.”

She couldn't keep hiding away from him, of course, but confronting him so soon... No. Spy was better than that. She could do this. She would go to his room and talk to him in private.

It only remained to be seen if she would face the knight or the dragon.

Thank you, for not being a bumper.

never ever stop you amazing person.

I cried a little bit when Medic said that we all have value. I've never heard anyone say that before, and I want to believe that it's true.

Spy and Soldier's reconciliation is something I'm really looking forward to.

sdfhjkhsFUCK i read through it all in one go and it's riiiiight before things get REALLY good that there isn't any more to read yet.

Jesus Christ, that was fucking magnificent. I read it all in one sitting (And now I'm am itching for the next part).

Medic talking about being raped? Made me God-damn cry. My God.

Love the exploring of the characters, and I love Spy's little trait of liking music. Great descriptiveness, great characterization, just all round awesome.

I cannot wait for more.

I has a sad now. Y U NO POST MORE

(Y U TALK LIKE UNDERAGEB&?)

I am glad you 'has a sad now' considering all the people that are going to think there was a post. Only to find this.

>>148

Perhaps I can console the forlorn due to necrobump with the comfort that from this point forward I will be banning necrobumpers that add nothing to the thread.

This post has been deleted.

>>150

What nameless post bumped this thread? Dissapointment.

I have been neglecting you guys. I'm sorry. Nanowrimo kicked my ass, in case you were wondering. And now, on to more of whatever the hell this is.

I'll be finishing up soon on this. Overall, I think it's some of my better work.

-------------------------------------------

It took her until half past nine to work up the courage to go to Soldier's room. Oh, there was the question of whether he would be there at all, but Spy knew his routine at this point. He always finished his patrol at nine o' clock, and, barring any other business, he went to his room and stayed there for the rest of the night.

The feeling of apprehension grew as she approached the door. She steeled herself, and knocked loudly. Strength. Remember that. You are strong enough to handle this. You've dealt with worse in Paris.

It opened abruptly to reveal Soldier, still in his uniform but without his helmet. He glared at her, annoyance already written plainly on his face. “What do you want, private?”

Time to prove yourself... Spy shoved the door out of her way and walked right in, daring him to stop her as she shut it behind her. “We have to talk,” she said in a tense, clipped voice.

“There's nothing to talk about, alright? Get the hell back to your own room, we got a battle tom-”

“Oh, shut up about the fighting, Jean! It does not matter!” She gestured around emphatically. “This is not a real war, and we are not in Europe and surrounded by Nazis! We cannot even die here, so do not pretend that it is somehow more important than -”

“Than what?” he said darkly. “You?”

She briefly wished for her sunglasses, so she could hide herself from his eyes, but they were in her coat and back in her own room. “Us,” she said.

Soldier pointed at the door, and loomed menacingly over her. “Get. Out.”

“Do you care about me at all?” she snapped. “Or do you simply enjoy the fact that the only woman in this base likes to sleep in your bed?” She poked him in the chest, far more roughly than she originally intended. “Tell me what you really think of me, Américain.”

He snarled at her. “You already know that – I think you're a goddamn psychopath, and EXCUSE ME for not being able to get more specific because I'm not a fucking shrink!”

“Why did you let me stay, then? Why did you say you liked me?”

“Because I DO, Frenchie, and I wasn't going to let one of my team get hurt like that -”

“Would you have done the same if one of the others was raped?!”

“YOU BETTER NOT BE QUESTIONING MY HONOR, BECAUSE I WILL NOT HESITATE TO BEAT YOUR SORRY ASS OUTTA HERE!”

The argument fell apart. They shouted at each other, throwing insults in various languages. She was so angry at this, at him. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right, and why did she always have to lose the good things in her life – he grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the door. Spy reacted by instinct, twisting out of his grip and throwing a punch at his face. It connected with a solid, meaty feeling and staggered him for a moment, and when he looked back at her, his lip was bleeding.

The dark, ugly anger in his eyes sent a surge of adrenalin through her. Soldier bared his teeth, put up his fists, and attacked.

She fought back just as viciously, glorying in the sick satisfaction every time she drew blood. Every time he struck her, she absorbed the pain and didn't really feel it. There was no holding back, no pulled punches, and she could take anything he threw at her and keep going. Any time she thought she might have gained an edge, he recovered as well, fueled by his own incoherent fury. There was no sense or reason to any of this; it was a race to see who would beat the other into unconsciousness first, and neither were willing to give in.

It would hurt later, when the madness wore off, but in the rhythm of combat she barely acknowledged the pain in her ribs or the blood streaming out of her nose. It was immaterial in comparison to the feeling of power when she hit him, and strength when he hit her back. It was wild, and brutal, and glorious in so many ways; everything she imagined it would be, if she had been thinking clearly.

They toppled to the ground, Spy kicking and swearing and snarling. Soldier kept trying to pin her arms; she kept trying to plant her knee in his crotch. Without the use of her fists, she snapped at his face and bit him on the lip. He hissed in pain, and slammed her down roughly, and then what should have been a bite in kind turned into... something else.

The raw, violent feeling didn't change, but the nature of the fight did. His mouth was so hard, like he was trying to punish her for some unknown crime. Her twisted soul wanted it, even liked it. She thrashed under him, tossing him to one side and rolling on top of him, the sudden feeling of his body, hot and straining against hers, making her gut boil. She grabbed his jacket and kissed him.

It tasted like blood, and it was sloppy and painful where their teeth knocked together. But Soldier responded, one fist balled up in the scruff of her jacket and the other digging into her waist, still fighting back with his tongue and lips. He sat up abruptly, nearly tossing her backwards, grabbed her thighs and dragged her into his lap, growling in frustration. Yes, he wanted this, or he was too irrational to care that it was happening. Spy tore at his uniform, left bloody trails on his neck where she bit him, and on his back where her nails ripped into his skin.

Those others she had loved and lost had been here too, once. They had never wanted to be strong enough for her. Women were supposed to be delicate and gentle, not vicious, angry and mad. They wanted her to be weak enough for them to handle instead. So there was no blood, and every damn time she had to hold back in case she hurt them, and letting even a fraction of her true nature show brought censure and sometimes fear. It wasn't a life worth living. It was barely an existence, a cage that she couldn't escape without alienating or killing them.

Soldier groaned when she scratched him, and threw her around as easily as he handled his rocket launcher. He lifted them both off the floor and staggered to his bed, dumping her onto it and crushing her there.

Maybe you're not afraid of him because he's a man. Maybe you're afraid because he's a man who's got the will and the strength to beat you into submission, and that's what you've always wanted.

He struggled out of his jacket and threw it off to one side. It was swiftly followed by her own jacket, and her pants, and more brutal, bloody kisses. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her this way and that mercilessly. She clawed at his vest, tried to grab his short hair, looking for anything at all as long as it was more – but did it really matter whether it was pain or pleasure? She had already lost her mind along with her inhibitions.

The heat in his hands and groin was staggering. He had always been warm, but now he was burning up and setting her on fire. The feel of it made her desperate, left her snarling and spitting like a wildcat, tearing into his arms and biting anything within reach. More, she needed more; he had to prove he was worthy of taking her, to show he was strong enough to lie with her and live. Soldier slammed her down again, bit her neck and collarbone, pinned one of her arms beside her head; nothing but bared teeth and maddened eyes and the sharp, cold metal of his dog tags bouncing on her chest.

She threw her head back and pressed her body into his, but he forced her hips down, undid his belt and ripped his pants open. The sound made the boiling feeling in her stomach surge in anticipation; now now now, she was sick of waiting, sick of having to control herself. He kissed her again, his free hand tangled up in her shirt for a brief moment, then -

A low, guttural, animalistic noise erupted out of her throat as he entered her. There was pain, somewhere on the edge of her mind, but she was elsewhere, in a place of such violent pleasure that her whole body lifted off the bed. Soldier threw his arm around her waist, holding her in place as they rutted together. It couldn't be called 'making love', or even 'having sex', but it was so undeniably intense that she almost forgot to breathe.

That was how she remembered it, later. Fury and depraved instinct and lust, and Soldier's fingers tightly woven through hers. He didn't let up for a second, not even when the side of the bed cracked ominously and threatened to tip them both onto the floor. She tore his back to shreds with her free hand when she climaxed, her eyes screwed shut and his hot breath against her neck. It was almost like dying, in a way – a few minutes of crazed thrashing, then blissful, empty peace.

It was a measure of her, as well as him. It was the only battle worth fighting, where victory and defeat were meaningless. And she was strong enough, tough enough. With a strange kind of clarity, she knew that she hadn't thought of the BLU Sniper once; the experiences were as different as night and day. The rape had not been a battle. It was nothing. It meant nothing. It could be forgotten, as easily as ice melting before the sun.

When the euphoria dissipated, Spy slowly took stock of her surroundings. Every inch of her body ached. Soldier rolled to one side, breathing quite heavily, and slowly managed to untangle their hands. The bones in her fingers complained loudly.

She remained silent. There didn't seem to be much they could say. Spy looked over at him and met his gaze; it was hard to tell what he was thinking, under the blood splatters and the black eye, but he seemed resigned if anything else.

“I still think you're a psychopath,” he said.

“I thought you said you would not do anything about liking me,” she replied.

“I thought you had a problem with it,” he shot back. “You sure as hell acted that way, Frenchie.”

“You could have stopped me, Jean.”

He gave her a rather unimpressed look. “I didn't want to. I told you I'm not a saint.”

She had to give him that much. “What does this make us now, then?” she asked.

“I don't know.” He sat up slowly, and climbed over her to get out of bed. His back was still bleeding in places, streaks of dried blood and bruises everywhere. Spy watched him strip off and use his vest to clean his face. It looked painful. He didn't seem to notice.

He sat down on the bed rather heavily, and poked her in the shoulder. “Move it.”

She followed suit, sitting up and undoing her shirt and bra. Her whole right side felt like it had been pummelled, probably a broken rib or two if nothing else. Another war wound for her to carry around inside. Spy tossed the last of her clothes onto the floor, and hissed through her teeth at the sudden ache when Soldier slipped one arm around her waist and pulled her in close to his chest.

He made it better when his hands drifted up her body. It was surprisingly gentle, as if he were trying to map out the texture of her skin and memorize the curve of her breasts. Spy turned her head, enjoying the feeling of warmth, and she felt his nose in her hair. “You were telling the truth, then, when you called me desireable?”

He didn't respond for a moment. “I saw plenty of women, back home,” he said, in a voice that was uncharacteristically quiet. “About half of them were scared of me, and the other half threw themselves at me. They were all... soft, or something. Like they'd shatter if I touched them. Maybe that was alright for some guys, but not for me.”

“So you went to Europe to kill the Nazis? Suddenly it all makes sense,” she said playfully.

“I resent that implication, private, and I will have you know I got laid every goddamn weekend when I was still in the U.S. of A! There was just something missing, alright? When you pulled the knife on me, I thought...” He trailed off for a moment. She could almost hear the gears turning in his head, trying to find the words that would explain the unexplainable. “Felt like I found it.”

It didn't make sense to her, and it probably didn't make sense to him either. The effort of thinking about it all was too much. But he wanted her, and the thought of it didn't seem so frightening in light of what they had just done. In fact... he still expected nothing of her, except that she do her job well.

“I can leave, if you want,” she said suddenly. “We do not ever have to speak of this again.”

“Yeah. I know,” he said, huffing into her hair. “But you can stay, if you want. And maybe we can talk some more.”

The door was just over there. She could take her clothes and leave, and it would be as if she had never walked in. Soldier wouldn't stop her. The choice was hers alone.

She couldn't stop the profound sense of happiness from reaching her face, and she smiled. Spy pulled the blanket over them both, and pushed him down onto the bed. “I think I will stay a little while, Jean,” she said, tracing one finger across his broken lip. “Just promise you will keep me warm.”

Thank you, Ze Doktor.

When I first found this chan and started reading, this fic is what made me stay.

Wow. At first, I assumed it was the typical weirdo bumping it with nothing credited to the story itself. But the curious side of me took over regardless of being 2 a.m. here, and boy was I glad I checked it out.

There was so much intensity and power within your words, and the whole closer we finally see of Soldier and Spy. I can honestly say that you were a big reason why I really got into playing Soldier and that your works were very inspiring. Glad to see you again!

We missed you Doktor!

You get a million of underaged happy emoticons for this.

Holy fuck. This was amazing in every way, Doktor.

I wish I had more to say, but honestly, there isn't anything else. Just HOLY FUCK.

I really, really liked this chapter. I'm a total sucker for character introspections and powerful emotions.

Your Spy has really grown on me. At first I felt rather "meh" about her, regardless of her actual merits, simply because I don't like genderbending in and of itself. But she has really, really grown on me.

I especially loved this part.

Those others she had loved and lost had been here too, once. They had never wanted to be strong enough for her. Women were supposed to be delicate and gentle, not vicious, angry and mad. They wanted her to be weak enough for them to handle instead. So there was no blood, and every damn time she had to hold back in case she hurt them, and letting even a fraction of her true nature show brought censure and sometimes fear. It wasn't a life worth living. It was barely an existence, a cage that she couldn't escape without alienating or killing them.

Mayor props for writing such an interesting and multi-layered character :)

The desert at nighttime was always cold. Spy could never work out why, seeing as it was so hot during the day. She also didn't know why she still felt inclined to step outside and lurk in front of the base for a while in the evenings, despite having not touched her cigarettes since the Sniper incident.

They were calling it that now. Not 'that time Spy was raped'. It was as if they were afraid to call it by its real name. She hadn't decided whether this annoyed or amused her. The event had faded, the pain washed out. Medic had been right about some things – there would always be a scar, but it was just one among many. Just another mark on her skin that told the tale of her life.

Soldier called it rape. She talked about it a little that night, about how she was dealing with it, trying to make him understand. He didn't, and told her as much. All that mattered was that she understood, and she could deal.

Spy shifted against the wall and shook out her hands. Their relationship was another thing that needed understanding. It wasn't love, but the feeling of needing each other in some undefinable way was mutual. It had been two weeks since they had had sex, and much of that was spent being together but not actually saying much. There was only a vague sense of belonging, of ownership.

The door opened beside her suddenly, making her jump and activate her cloak by reflex. Soldier stepped outside, and stared at the spot where she had been. “Too slow, private. If I were an enemy, you'd already be dead,” he said nastily.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, decloaking. “Why are you out here? We are not due to start patrolling for another ten minutes.”

“We're going early tonight. We gotta start varying the schedule in case the BLUs figure it out. Besides, I was looking for you.” He stood beside her, staring out at the opposing base with his arms folded.

“Really.” She looked sidelong at him, but his face was partly hidden, as always, by the helmet. “Is there something you wanted to say?”

“Something you wanna know, Frenchie?” he snapped.

“You are the one who came looking for me, Jean. I presume you had a reason?”

A muscle in his jaw tensed for a moment. “No.” But before she could say anything more, he pulled off his helmet and ran a hand through his hair, looking rather frustrated. “I mean, yeah, but I don't have a reason. I just felt like it.”

It could mean anything, or nothing. Or, the more likely explanation, because this was Soldier: it meant exactly what it sounded like, that he just wanted to be close to her. She was still trying to get used to the way he tended to say exactly what he was thinking.

Spy leaned against his shoulder. He shifted in response, returning the pressure. They both stared out into the night for a while, just being together.

A singular thought occurred to her. When she was younger, she had read stories about hunting expeditions in Africa, and what beasts they encountered there. They said a lioness was one of the most dangerous predators; vicious, powerful, easily capable of ripping a man limb from limb. Who could get close to such a fearsome creature without risking a messy death?

The answer, in retrospect, was obvious. Who could walk with a lioness and live? A lion, of course.

Spy glanced at Soldier and chuckled to herself. Maybe some things didn't need to be said. And she had to admit that being here, with him, in this strange earthly Valhalla was actually a pretty good life. Perhaps it didn't need explaining, or understanding. Perhaps this was as close as she would ever come to true happiness, because he was probably the only man who could make her happy.

“You find something funny?” he asked.

On impulse, she threw one arm around his neck and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. “If I do, it is not you, Jean. I was just thinking.” She held up her revolver in her other hand, and checked the cylinder. “I think it is time we went on patrol, oui?”

He looked at her, and then smiled. In all the time she had known him, Spy had never once known Soldier to smile. It wasn't a particularly friendly expression, but it did make her wish briefly that they were alone and naked in his room instead of out in front of the RED base.

He shrugged off her arm and put his helmet back on, then squared his shoulders. “Right. First the armory, then we'll do half of the inside sweep and half of the outside sweep, and vary the routes every time. MOVE OUT, PRIVATE!”

She gave a lazy salute. “Sir, yes, sir,” she said, and followed him into the fortress, humming 'Nessun Dorma' under her breath.

FIN

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That's all, folks. Thanks for reading, and thanks for all the praise and feedback. You guys have no idea how much I value the stuff you say.

I'll be moving on to finishing up the Seduction of the Doktor story now, so keep an eye out for that if you're interested in Heavy/Medic drama. I'll get to it in the new year once I post some other one-shots that I've been meaning to get to for a while. Then there's the highschool alternate universe whatsit that I have tentatively decided to call Teufort High for no particular reason, which I swear I will write. (I have a plot and everything! And it may not be stupid!)

So yeah. Busy busy :P Now's a good time to get your requests in. I may even get to them sometime soon.

ANOTHER UPDATE?!

Wait.

ANOTHER UPDATE OF BEAUTIFUL PERFECTION?!

And such a lovely ending...

I still love this so much and I'm so glad you were able to finish it. It was worth the wait. I couldn't ask for anything more, really. But then, I'm a sucker for sweet Soldiers and weird relationships.

Don't know how realistic it would be for them to have sex that soon after the rape. Don't really care. At least there was some time inbetween (weeks? Months? I lost track of how much time passed anyway.)

>>161

I think it helps that she had sex before. It wasn't like a first experience that completely ruined her or anything. But I know nothing about psychology, so I could be wrong about that.

>>159

I am so happy you finished this. I don't come to tf2chan much anymore, and I was thinking "all of those great stories that will probably never be finished..."

But here you are. And here it is, finished. Give yourself a pat on the bat.

Wonderful, Doktor. Simply fantastic.

Great ending and I can't wait for you to go on with Seduction of the Doktor. Your stories are always the best!

>>162

Give yourself a pat on the bat.
162, I don't know whether that was deliberate, typo, or Freudian, but it is SO appropriate here that I'm still grinning. Thank you. (I also agree.)

Now's a good time to get your requests in. I may even get to them sometime soon.

Err... Weeeeeeeeeeeeell, since you are asking...

Pleasepleaseplease write a sequel to "Watcher" and give it a happy ending! Pretty please ^^

(Now cut that out.)

Haven't been on the chan in ages, thought I'd take a peek to see what I've been missing and holy mother of fuck my favorite fic just updated.

So many lovely quotes but my favorite was this one.

The answer, in retrospect, was obvious. Who could walk with a lioness and live? A lion, of course.
So much love!

wonderful!!!

Omfg. You heartless bastard. PLEASE learn to sage! Its been 4 fuking months too

This is the second or third time they've done it too. Last time they said "wonderful" as well. They trolling hard?

I just found this thread and I'm glad I decided to check more than the first page.

I am stunned.

All I can say is...

DOKTOR IS CREDIT TO TEAM!

I don't know what really ot say your writing is beautiful.I do not normally read fanfic cause well its odd but you do really need to think about being published.I have no read anything so moving in a very long time thank you

Why did you have to bump this, jenn?

the happiest necrobump I've ever experienced!!

So I posted this on Tumblr in response to an ask and forgot to post it here. And now I'm posting it here. It's sort of a follow up or... I dunno. Enjoy!

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She’d missed the coffee, more than anything else. There was something about real French coffee that simply couldn’t be replicated anywhere else. It was so strange, that this alone spoke to her of home the way nothing else did. The Parisien cafe was pleasant, yes, but it held no hint of familiarity. The last time she was in Paris, it had been a very different place.

Still, the woman who was sometimes a Spy was content. The feeling was unexpected, but there it was. All that time during the war, all the sacrifices she had made as part of the Resistance - it had been worth it. French men and women walked the streets as free people, carefree and lazy in the summer sun. They could because of her.

"What the hell is this crap?" her companion said, holding up the tiny espresso cup and peering into it suspiciously. "It tastes like goddamn motor oil."

She smiled at him behind her own cup. Of course he didn’t like it. He hated the shirt and jeans she forced him to wear instead of his usual uniform. He complained about the food at the hotel. He shouted at the bewildered porter who tried to take his suitcase. He didn’t particularly like the dress she had chosen either, but he knew better than to make an issue of it.

"It is the finest French roast available on this side of the Atlantic, Jean. Please try to appreciate it," she said pleasantly. His natural antagonism could not ruin her mood.

He slumped in the chair and glared at the passers by. She watched him, more than them. She still wasn’t sure why he had agreed to come with her, but his presence still soothed her. He guaranteed that she would not receive any unwanted attention. And she could still catch him glancing at her, every once in a while, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was still with him.

"Why hello, Mademoiselle. I did not expect to see you here."

Well, almost no unwanted attention. She immediately resented the interruption to her afternoon musing. The object of her annoyance was a tall, thin man who looked entirely ordinary in slacks and a shirt. Anyone else might take him for another tourist, but she knew his eyes. She had seen them often enough while the rest of his face was covered with a blue balaclava.

"You never expect to see me," she said snidely. "Go away. We are on holiday."

"Please, my dear, we are not ‘on the clock’, as the Americans say. Why not share some of this fine coffee with me? I am sure you have many stories to tell." He had switched to English for some reason, but his voice was still mocking. Her companion had noticed, and he watched the intruder with narrowed eyes.

"I think not. Go away," she said. Professional courtesy, she told herself. It would be… messy… if she took her knife to him here. It was strapped to the side of her thigh, an ever-present and comforting weight. It would be very easy to carve her initials into his hide, but she would give him a chance to back off at least.

He made to say something more, but Jean cut him off. He rose from his seat, grabbed the man by the collar, and twisted his arm up behind his back. “Beat it,” he snarled, and shoved him away roughly.

The man stumbled, but recovered well. He sniffed in irritation, cast a contemptuous look at her, and stalked off through the crowds. Needless to say, he would probably taunt her about this when they next met on the battlefield.

She glanced at her companion, who had returned to his seat with a furious, threatening look in his eyes. “I could have dealt with that myself,” she said.

He grunted in response. “I don’t like him.”

"Of course not. You hate everyone. But I can solve my own problems, or did you forget that?"

He fell into a mutinous silence. She sipped her coffee, watched the passing crowd, and absorbed the new life of the city that she had suffered so much for.

"You know that’s not true," he said suddenly.

"What is not true?" she asked.

"I don’t hate everyone."

Her eyes had not moved, but now she couldn’t help the way they were drawn to his. There was that sidelong glance, to reassure himself that she was still here, and still with him. There was the anger, towards anything that was not her, in this strange city. But a look could hold more than words, more than feeling, especially between them.

"You have a strange way of being romantic," she murmured.

He looked away. “You finished yet? I’m getting bored.”

She put the cup back on the table. “I believe so. Shall we go? I wish to see the Louvre today. There is a very famous sculpture that you should see, called Diana à la Biche.”

"Fine, let’s go."

They stood, and she left a few notes on the table to cover the bill. He walked ahead of her for a few paces before she caught up. As he glowered at the world, she reached for his hand, and their fingers naturally slid together.

He looked down, and then up at her face. Then he smiled, dark and dangerous and only for her, everything else forgotten.

They walked on together, and for a short time, Paris felt like thunder and rocket fire and muzzle flash all over again; lightning in her veins and her heart.

Pssst... I really liked this and I'm glad you posted the epilogue here. It was perfect.

Wow! Probably the only Spy/Soldier I have ever read that made sense.

Still a great fucking story

Yep, I concur, still a great fucking story