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No. 328
[In the interest of keeping my finished stuff from the things I'm still working on, please excuse me if I start a new thread. This is Chapter 1, which I posted and then kinda... forgot. Inspired by a drawing by Ms Cat Bountry].
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The RED Medic hated his team’s Heavy. It wasn’t just that he ran headlong into battle, heedless of others and without even the barest attempt to provide cover for the Medic. It wasn’t just that he would lurch out of range as soon as the Medigun was fully charged, the instant before the Ubercharge could be deployed. It wasn’t even that he was a rotten-toothed, vodka-addled, crudely-tatttoo’d ex-convict with rank body odour and an inability to close his mouth when he chewed. It was that he was all those things, AND he wasn’t the BLU Heavy.

The Medic had begun by watching the enemy Medic, hoping to adopt his best strategies and exploit the weaknesses of his worst. However, it was impossible to watch the BLU Medic without also watching his Heavy. The big BLU was always near his Medic, keeping him out of the line of fire, making sure he stayed in range of the blue Medigun vapours. Even in the heat of battle, he found time to thank and praise the BLU Medic, and the RED was almost sure he had once seen them sharing a sandvich hunkered down behind a rock. He couldn’t be sure, though, as a BLU sticky bomb had splattered him all the way back to Respawn just then.

From observing the BLU Heavy’s tactics, the Medic had progressed to watching the man. Unlike his evil-looking countryman on the RED team, the Russian on the BLU team seemed wholesome as a glass of fresh milk. His well-scrubbed skin was innocent of tattoos, and he appeared to shave every day, just to go into battle. Where the RED Heavy’s teeth alternated gold crowns and blackened stumps, the BLU had a full set of white, even teeth. The Medic imagined that he had grown up on a farm, drinking cold mountain water and building his massive physique with honest toil.

When the Medic caught himself inventing stories about the BLU Heavy’s childhood, he knew he was in trouble. He had felt these urges before, had learned to his sorrow how wrong they were. Rather than see him go to the camps, his father had him hospitalised; after a regimen of ice baths and isolation, he had been declared cured. In his soul, the RED Medic knew, he was just as sick as the day he’d been caught with the boy next door.

Perhaps it was for the best that the man with the easy laugh and broad smile was on the other side of the battlefield. A kind Providence, in the unlikely form of the Administrator, had arranged for the Medic to be partnered with a foul-smelling cretin whose few, crude desires were aimed at women. Those unlucky women, the Medic reflected. The BLU Heavy must certainly have a wife or a sweetheart, someone to whom he addressed the tender sentiments that buoyed him through the brutality of battle.

He was doing it again, the Medic realised. He had to stop inventing stories about the BLU Heavy. The man was an enemy. It was vital to see him as nothing more than a wall of meat to be demolished on the way to victory. The Medic had to be prepared to kill him without hesitation; the handsome Russian would doubtless do as much to him.

For this reason, as well as to get out of the RED Heavy’s shadow, the Medic practised late into the night. Bonesaw, Übersaw, syringe gun, Blutsauger. He sparred with the Soldier, he ran with the Scout, anything to become a Battle Medic in his own right. He hurled himself at plywood cutouts of the BLU team that the Engineer had rigged on a series of pulleys. He screamed imprecations at them in German until the Demoman, the monster-chasing drunkard, warned him that he seemed a bit... insane. Then, he whispered instead as he hacked at the BLU Heavy’s portrait, still trying to drown out the words he carried inside.

On the battlefield, the RED Medic became a monster, part of a flying wedge with the Soldier and the Demoman. They left the RED Heavy to blunder about by himself, killing or being killed; they could adjust their tactics to either circumstance. Or at least, they could adjust when everyone kept his wits.

The Medic knew his own torment, but each of his teammates seemed beset by something at least as bad. When gravely injured, the Soldier would refuse healing and wade into the enemy ranks with a pick-axe and a death wish. For no reason that the Medic could discern, the Demoman would sometimes arrive in formation with an antique broadsword, unresponsive and unreasoning, and would attempt to decapitate each and every BLU single-handed.

The... event happened while the Scot was in the midst of one of these mysterious rages. The Medic had taken some buckshot from the enemy Scout, and ducked behind a ruined building with a med pack to patch himself up as best he could. He heard the Demoman’s maddened scream, the panting breath of his quarry, and the sinister whisper that seemed to fill the air when he used that damnable sword. There was a bellow of pain- the BLU Heavy taking some damage, but evading the broadsword’s killing blow.

The RED Medic would have sworn the ground shook as the BLU Heavy rounded the corner to shelter behind the same crumbling wall. He wasn’t sure if it was the man’s sheer physical size, or the sense of destiny that came with standing so close to his beloved for the first time, but the Earth seemed to shift under the Medic’s feet. The man’s clear blue eyes were bright with pain as he clutched a bloody wound on his right arm- the Demoman has almost severed the limb just below the shoulder. However, as soon as he saw the Medic, he balled his good hand into a fist.

“Stop!” the RED Medic shouted, raising both hands, but the BLU laid a crushing blow on him. The RED cried out and dodged a second blow before readying his Übersaw. “Stop, I don’t want to hurt you-” but the man was already throwing another punch, and the Medic’s rigorous training came to the fore. He hacked at the man, dodged his blows, saw an opening, took it- he congratulated himself briefly on such a well-timed critical hit before the reality of the situation hit him. He had sliced the BLU’s head from his shoulders, as cleanly as the Demoman had ever managed. The Russian’s lordly body slumped back against the ruined wall even as his head thumped to the ground at the Medic’s feet.

Unable to think, the RED found himself picking up the head, cradling it in his hands. It was oozing blood and the eyes had rolled back, giving the face a tormented expression. The Medic slid the eyelids shut, smoothed the pained grimace into an expression of peace. The BLU Heavy was... beautiful, like this. There was no other word for it.

Although gore was oozing down his rubber gloves and soaking into his sleeves, the Medic could not bring himself to put the Heavy’s head down. Instead, he brought his face close to the dead man’s, inhaling his scent, feeling the short stubble against his cheek. Still avoiding thought, the Medic pressed his lips to those of the dead Heavy.

Those lips were soft, tender as if in sleep. Allowing the Russian’s jaw to slide open in his hand, the Medic pressed his tongue into the Heavy’s mouth. It was still warm, still wet, suffused with the coppery tang of the other man’s blood. The Medic kissed him deeply, hungrily, until he choked on cold air inhaled through the poor man’s gaping windpipe. The Respawn system picked up the corpse, snatching the severed head out of the Medic’s hand. When it was gone, the Medic crumpled to the ground, sobbing. He was only momentarily aware of a blinding blue light on his glasses before the enemy Sniper wiped him off the map.

When he respawned, whole and on his feet, the RED Medic simply let himself fall to the ground again. The Scout had respawned with him, and kicked him lightly on the sole of his boot.

“C’mon, Doc, up an’ at ‘em.”

“I am dead,” the Medic told him, and would not rejoin the battle.
84 posts omitted. Last 50 shown.
>> No. 2382
Damn marty dont tease us juss hive us MOAR
>> No. 2403
PART 11

The Spy didn’t end up visiting the Medic as often as the others, and the Scout was still his most frequent visitor. However, whenever the Spy showed up, he always had a trick to teach their prisoner, some refinement of technique. Of course, he always took the first turn, so that the others could benefit from the Medic’s new skills.

“Spy, I appreciate you know more about this shit than most, but can’t ya let someone else go first, for a change? There’s a thing called ‘takin’ turns’ they teach us about in kindygarden.”

“We are taking turns,” the Spy said levelly. “I am taking the first turn.”

“Ye snake!” the Demoman raged.

“Please, please.” The Medic held up a calming hand. “I agree with the Scout, it is unfair if one of you always claims precedence. However, Scout, you do come to me so often.” He looked fondly at the younger man. “I would have it no other way. I propose to pleasure each of you in turn. A solo visit will count as a first turn, logically. Should more than one of you visit at the same time, the one who has least recently had a first turn takes precedence. I shall keep track.”

“Verra fair,” the Demoman nodded, smiling.

“Yer a genius, Doc.” The Scout hugged his lover, his captive. “But how do we know who takes the first turn now?”

“I have a notion,” the Medic smiled confidently. “It is a thing I have craved for some time, if you will consent.”

“What is it?” the Scout asked, his arm draped loosely around the Medic’s waist.

“I wish to kneel on the ground, with you three standing around me,” the Medic began, as crisply as a general planning a manoeuvre. “I will be able to pleasure two with my hands and one with my mouth, switching occasionally to take on all of you equally.” He leaned against the Scout and reached out to caress the Spy’s shoulder and the Demoman’s chest. “There will be no need to argue about who gets the first chance.”

“Kinky,” the Scout grinned. “I like it.” He kissed the Medic deeply.

“You are becoming an erotic artist,” the Spy agreed. The Demoman didn’t say anything, but kissed the Medic hungrily as soon as the older man’s lips parted from the Scout’s. The young runner kissed the Scotsman’s bearded cheek for good measure.

The Medic slid to his knees, caressing the bodies of his jailers, his friends, as he did so. The men opened their flies and exposed themselves to him- the Scout was already fully erect, while his older teammates were merely swelling with interest. The Medic looked up tenderly at the Demoman and took his soft, dark member into his mouth. The explosive expert’s mouth dropped open with pleasure, and he placed a gentle hand on the top of the German’s head. Sliding his hands up the others’ thighs, the Medic took the Scout in his left hand and the Spy in his right to stroke them.

After that, the prisoner allowed himself to get lost in a warm, quiet world of touch and taste. The other men stroked his hair, pressed their erections against his lips, his cheek, the soft hair at the back of his neck- anywhere they could reach. No man, he thought, has ever felt as save and loved as I, encircled by, in service to, three guardian angels.

His own arousal was a solid ache. While he was alive, he had imagined such things- craved them, and prayed for the strength to resist them. He had failed, occasionally, given in to his need and touched his own body while thinking of kissing his Captain, of seeing a burly orderly naked. Afterward, he had always felt such guilt, felt as though he was sinking toward damnation. If only I had known, he thought, as he sucked first the Spy, then his beloved Scout. I denied love, I resisted the divine plan for my life- he kissed the head of the Scout’s cock- and participated instead in the violence that sent me to Hell. But Heaven is merciful- he moved his mouth from the Scout to the Demoman again, slicking his fingers with his own saliva on the Spy’s cock- Hell is not eternal, even for a vampire such as I. There is a place for everything in Creation, and my place is here, feeding on the freely-given essence of the angels.

The Medic’s meditation was cut short when he turned to face the Scout again. Instead of pushing his cock immediately into the Medic’s mouth, the young man did a sort of awkward dance, toeing off his shoes and socks.

“Hey, Doc,” he grinned. “I can see where you’re pretty hard up. Pull it out.”

Confused but willing, the Medic left off stroking the other two for just long enough to unbutton his pyjama fly and revealed his erection.

“C’mon, suck me, lemme see if I can do this.” The Medic obeyed his lover, taking the Scout’s cock in his mouth and resuming his caresses upon the other two. Steadying himself on the Medic’s shoulder with one hand, the Scout slid one foot up along the older man’s thigh, caressing his erection with his naked toes.

The Medic gasped around the Scout’s cock, his grip tightening on the Demoman and the Spy. The Demoman laughed at the shock on the Medic’s face and caressed his cheek, while the Scout shot the Spy a cocky smirk.

With his body at the mercy of the Scout’s agile toes, the Medic couldn’t hold back any more. He took his young lover’s cock deep into his mouth, and frantically stroked the other two. The Demoman pressed his erection against the Medic’s cheek, while the Spy did him one better and pushed his erection into the Medic’s mouth beside the Scout’s. Taken by surprise, the Scout put both feet on the floor and came, filling the Medic’s mouth with precious, bitter salt. The Spy groaned with lust and followed suit, his semen coating the Scout’s cock and dribbling onto the Medic’s lips while the Demoman came on their servant’s face and hair.

“Man, Doc, that was amazing,” the Scout smiled down at him. As soon as he was stable again, the Scout lifted his foot and took the Medic’s straining erection in the notch between his big toe and the others.

Overcome with pleasure, the Medic screamed. It was long and loud, from the very bottom of his sou. His seed washed over the Scout’s bare feet, and the young man bent down to kiss the top of his head.

“What’s going on in- JAYsus Christ!” The Sniper burst in the unlocked door, kukri at the ready, but stopped short as he took in the scene. “What’re you doing to him?” he gagged, nearly dropping his weapon.

“Just having some fun,” the Scout stood up sharply, tucking his cock away. “Get lost.”

“That’s disgusting.” The Sniper’s face was a mask of horror.

“Now, monsieur,” the Spy had already done up his fly and was lighting a cigarette. “Do not be so judgemental. I am sure you will like it, if you ask him politely to give you a turn.”

“Shut it, Spook,” the Sniper glared. “You can’t treat prisoners like this. There are standards.” He looked down at the kneeling man, covered in his jailers’ ejaculate.

“Calm doon,” the Demoman offered. “It’s all reet.”

“No, no it’s not,” the Sniper backed out of the room. “I’m telling the Medic and the Engineer right away- their sick little experiment has got to end. This isn’t right.”

The door slammed, but the RED Medic was already wailing. He clung to the Scout’s legs, begging his guardian to protect him, not to let the enemy doctor send him back to the hospital, to the camps, to Hell. The Scout tried to comfort him, the Spy wiped his face with his handkerchief, and the Demoman offered him a drink to soothe his nerves, but they could not quiet his wrenching, terrified screams.
>> No. 2404
aw jeez moar
>> No. 2406
Wow. Cowering psycho Medic is such a woobie. Please, sir, can I have some MOAR?
>> No. 2407
Sniper, are you the hero of this mad, mad tale?
>> No. 2412
I eagerly anticipate the next chapter. Somehow I don't think Sniper will be too hard to convince that the situation is not what it appears.

I kind of adore Medic's relationship with Scout in this. Even if he is a bit of a bonehead, I think growing up in a large family would make Scout a little more emotionally aware and it comes across that way when he interacts with Medic. It's sweet.

Also, hopefully hardcore sex soon?
>> No. 2421
89 Fuck, I wrote a woobie. Sorry about that.

90 I don't really "do" heroes. However, (for my fellow D&D geeks), Sniper is the only lawful-good aligned character in this tale. (And yeah, I know you don't usually get lawful-good snipers, but why do you think our boy signed up for an outfit where nobody stays dead?)

91 What, bukkake isn't hardcore enough for you? Jeez. You might wanna warn any potential partners, son. Seriously, though, I don't know if this story is trending toward ass sex at all.
>> No. 2436
>>92

Oh no no, no apologies, Marty! It's heart-achingly, terrifyingly, wonderful. Pure genius. I absolutely can't wait until the next chapter.
>> No. 2527
Oh, wow, this is still amazing. I love Responsible Citizen Sniper - although, wouldn't he be the one who caught RED Medic soul-kissing BLU Heavy before, when this all started?
>> No. 2753
Why is this all the way down here? Bumping.
>> No. 2754
95 I hate you forever.
>> No. 2759
>>96
Agreed, but you've effectively done the exact same thing. Seriously, if you're going to express your frustration at someone who made you think there was an update, at least sage your post so you don't do the same to someone else.
>> No. 2790
This is so hot. I really like and enjoy it. I love this take on Medic and am curious about how others would react(especially the other Medic to the report from Sniper). I also like Medic's psyche with redemption and angels and all.
I don't have anything really new to say; I'm just demonstrating how much I like this fic.
>> No. 3256
Anyone enjoying this story can thank Ze Doktor, who prodded me mercilessly to type and post. At least 2 more chapters on the way.
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PART 11

“Scout,” the BLU Medic’s face was gray with worry, “Sniper tells me that you have been- assaulting the prisoner.”

“Jeez, ya make it sound like I been beatin’ him over the head.” The young man looked down at the table.

“You have been taking advantage of a helpless person. It is worse.”

“Yeah?” The Scout snapped, his eyes meeting the Medic’s. “Well at least I’m not the one who left him locked alone in a room with a bare mattress all crusted up with blood.”

“So you are the one who gave him the sheets?”

“Yeah! And look, he didn’t try to kill himself, or anyone else.”

“He did kill you.”

“Yeah, only ‘cause I wanted to see if I’d come out a vampire. He didn’t even want to.”

“DIdn’t want to?” Of all the news the Medic had heard in the past hour, this was the most baffling.

“He didn’t really wanna hurt me. He’s tired of blood and dying and fighting. All he really wants to do is roll around and give head. He’s a fag, and crazy as a shit-house rat, but... he’s not bad.”

“We are not discussing whether he is ‘bad.’ We are discussing the mistreatment of a prisoner, and what to do about it.”

“Look, report me, shit-can me, whatever, just... you can’t put him back out there.”

“Do not let your self-serving desires interfere with another man’s freedom,” the Medic said sharply.

“Just talk to him,” the Scout snarled. “You’ll see.”

The BLU Medic was willing to do that, at least. He felt that he owed it to his patient, his prisoner. However, the insane RED refused to cooperate. No sooner had the BLU stepped into the room than the other man’s expression of pleasant expectation collapsed into a mask of horror.

The madman flattened himself against the wall, alternately pleading and cursing.

<<Sir, calm yourself,>> the BLU began in their native tongue. <<I wish only to ask you some questions.>>

<<I will tell you nothing.>> The RED spat at his feet. <<I have done nothing wrong.>>

<<I know, I know,>> the BLU tried to soothe him. <<Others have done things to you, I understand. It is about this that I wish to talk.>>

<<Never! I will not inform on anyone! I will not make that mistake again.>> The RED was shaking, his knees wobbling underneath him, but his jaw was set.

<<Again?>> The BLU felt as though a cold stone had dropped into his stomach. <<Sir, do I know you?>>

<<No, but I know you, all ice and cures.>> The RED’s voice was rising. <<You would cure me of love to send me to war, cure me of Heaven to send me to Hell!>> He was shrieking when the BLU Engineer stepped in.

“Whoa whoa whoa, hoss,” he murmured at the RED. “Doc,” he shot a gaze at the BLU Medic. “Scout said I’d find you in here. What-all is going on?”

“The same thing zat alvays ‘goes on’ vhen I attempt to interview ze patient,” the BLU’s accent was thick as he switched languages. “He becomes hysterical und I learn nossing.”

“He seems to be settlin’ a bit now,” the Engineer noted.

<<What is wrong with you?>> the BLU Medic mused, only to see the RED freeze up again at once.

“Doc,” the Engineer murmured, “I think it spooks him when you speak German.” He looked at their patient. “Mister, you like it better when we talk English?”

The erstwhile RED nodded mutely.

“What are you afraid of?” The BLU Medic’s voice betrayed some fear of his own.

“I fear the ice of Hell, the eiswasserbad, die elektrokrampftherapie.”

“Were you in a camp?” the BLU Medic’s face was drawn.

“Nein. I went to hospital, instead. Für der Schwulen.”

The BLU Medic’s head drooped. The Engineer waited a tactful moment before putting a hand on his teammate’s shoulder. “Well, now we know why he doesn’t care for German-speaking doctors. It ain’t your fault.”

“It might as well be,” the BLU said. “Sir,” he addressed the RED, “I am-” his voice hitched. “I am profoundly sorry for your pain. I cannot in good conscience keep you prisoner here any more.” The Engineer knew his Medic as a man of iron will, and was shocked to see tears on his cheeks.

“But, I do not want to go.” The RED Medic reached out and took the BLU’s hand.
>> No. 3259
Yah for more! I was so afraid this had withered away. And two more chapters in the works! It's not Christmas so it must be my birthday.

Many thanks to Ze Doctor for poking Marty...

I know that sounded wrong, but it feels so right.
>> No. 3262
I usually go anon when posting on other topic in the adult threads because one of my friends from outside teh interwebz found this site, and I'm sure she's stalking me on it, but hell if I care anymore.

Marty, I just read all of this in one sitting, and it was DELICIOUS. Like a friggin' steak dinner or something. From France. Your Medic is a lot crazier than what I'm used to and this story has a really somber feel to it (like I'm one to talk about dark stories, ugh), but you handle it all tremendously well and, if I don't say so myself, one day I aspire to be as great of a writer as you are.

I REALLY DO.

God bless you, you magnificent bastard! I read your fic!
>> No. 3264
GUYS, UPDATE!
I love this story. There needs to be more!
Guess what, Diphthong? Tommorow is my birthday! Early birthday present from Marty! I feel so special.

I love you and everything you write, Terato Marty.
>> No. 3269
Holy Doly. Marty, you got your self a little gem. the chapters are short, nice and tidy, and very enjoyable that keeps everyone coming back for more.
>> No. 3412
This is Chapter 1, which I posted and then kinda... forgot. Inspired by a drawing by Ms Cat Bountry
Which picture?

Of course, you're going to answer that because you've got to update some time.
>> No. 4070
This chapter is dedicated to Ze Doktor, who encouraged me to keep working on this story. Uh. I've had a bit of a rough time lately, and indeed spent a little while in a mental hospital myself. I'd like to say that today's hospitals are VERY different to what Medic experienced- NOT being in Nazi Germany is terribly helpful. I was in for depression, and part of a program specifically for LGBT folks. The therapists were all gay, too, and nobody made a big deal of it. What I'm basically saying is, if you have problems, don't let this story put you off asking for help. OK, on with the plot.
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PART 12

After a long night, the BLU team members who had managed to get some sleep were startled to see the deranged RED Medic in the mess hall. He was sitting next to their own Medic, being served breakfast by the Engineer.

“Doc!” the Scout crowed and rushed to his side.

“What is meaning of this?” The Heavy halted in the doorway, arms spread out as if to protect the teammates behind him.

“Heavy,” the BLU Medic spoke. “In light of... certain events, I can no longer justify holding this man prisoner. I feel it is best to discuss this in the open, to then decide how to proceed.”

“What events?” The Soldier ducked under the Heavy’s arm. The Scout hesitated in the act of touching the RED Medic.

Both Medics straightened into the same posture- Prussian, military, at attention to give an unwelcome report.

“While I have had this man confined in order to determine the cause of his insanity, certain of our teammates have been- mistreating him. Sexually.” The BLU Medic’s tone was neutral, wooden, but his jaw snapped shut to hide an expression as he finished.

“What is?!” The Heavy dropped his arms in shock and the rest of the team swarmed the room, though the Demoman merely sauntered over to get his breakfast.

“Look, it’s not like th-” the Scout began, but the RED Medic raised a hand to hush him.

“While I would rather not be restricted to one room, I must stress that I have not been abused or harmed in any way. All that I have done has been completely voluntary.”

The Sniper stared at the RED in frank disbelief, and the Engineer looked wearily skeptical. The Heavy was baffled, disgusted, but the Soldier and Pyro were unreadable, eyes hidden as always.

“Mister,” the Engineer began, “plain and simple, you’re not right in the head. You’re in no fit state to say yea or nay to- to the things some people might ask you to try.”

“Sir,” the RED replied calmly, “I lived for years in a Hell where all I cherished, all I loved, was forbidden to me. Since I was seventeen, I thought I was insane. Now, in a world of peace and pleasure, I feel sane for the first time. How can you disagree?”

“Is he cured, or...” the Sniper murmured to the BLU Medic.

“I... he is no longer violent, but he still believes that he is a demon who has been redeemed into Heaven.” The German pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Not to tell you how to do your job, Doc, but weren’t respawn that did it, and there ain’t anything about it we can fix,” the Engineer said over the RED’s head. “He really ought to be in a hospital somewhere.”

“No!” the Scout and Demoman shouted in unison with the RED Medic. The Pyro had a strong reaction, too, thought what it was remained unclear.

“It was a stupid hospital that made ‘im crazy i the first place!” The Scout continued hotly. “You’re not sending him away.” He wrapped an arm around the Medic’s shoulders.

“What’s he talking about?” the Soldier demanded of the BLU Medic. The Heavy was silent, taking it all in.

“I believe that the source of his... mental imbalance was an effort to cure him of something that has no cure. Something I can no longer believe to be a disease.” He clenched his jaw again, then continued. “During the war, I worked in a camp, trying to establish a cure for homosexuality. I discovered nothing, except that my subjects were men like any others.”

“For years you’ve sworn blind that you weren’t a Nazi!” the Soldier roared at the Medic.

“I was not, but I can no longer tell myself that there is a moral distinction between the Nazis and the scientists who followed their orders.” There were tears standing out in the BLU Medic’s eyes. The Soldier was silent for a moment, then turned to the RED.

“Are YOU a Nazi?”

“No. I never applied, because institutionalisation for homosexuality would have disqualified me more readily than time served in prison, for all that I hoped I was cured.”

The Soldier nodded. “Are you a sissy?”

The former RED winced, but stood his ground. “I am a homosexual, yes.”

“We can’t put him in a mental ward,” the Soldier barked at the rest of his team. “I’ve seen what they do to sissies, in there.” The RED Medic saw a crescent of the man’s eye under his helmet- steel-blue, frightened.

“He needs real help!” the Sniper snarled. “Wot’re we gonna do? Keep ‘im here?”

“Why not?” The Pyro had peeled up the bottom half of his mask, revealin a wash of scar, a lipless mouth. “For one reason and another, many of us here are not made for the world outside- lighting fires, committing mayhem, drinking at oh-six-hundred hours,” he nodded indulgently at the Demoman. “Surely we can make room for another misfit.”

“Yeah!” the Scout agreed, and nudged the Demoman until he said “Aye.”

“A vote,” the Scout suggested. “Everyone who thinks he should stay, raise yer hand.” Scout, the Demoman, Soldier, and Pro all affirmed.

“All in favour of sending this poor man for proper treatment,” the BLU Medic spoke up. “I swear to you,” he addressed the RED, “it is better now. The fact that you are homosexual does not matter. You need not tell anyone. The doctors, the other doctors, will help you. All in favour?” He raised his hand, joined by the Engineer, the Sniper and the Heavy.

Everyone looked at the Spy. “I abstain, “ he said archly, flicking ash from his cigarette. “It is impossible for me to throw in my lot with any side, in any argument.”

“You sneaking Judas!” The Scout slammed his fist on the table.

“Scout, please,” the RED medic laid a hand on his shoulder. “I vote that I should remain here.” He locked eyes with his BLU counterpart. “If I cannot vote in this matter, who can?”

“I-” the BLU ground his teeth. “I change my vote to accord with yours. You may do, must do, as you wish.”

“Thank you.” The former RED extended his hand and shook the other Medic’s unresisting hand. “Do not distress yourself. I wanted a cure to exist, more than you did.”

The BLU Medic covered his face with one hand and sobbed, a harsh and ugly sound. The RED and the Engineer tried to soothe him, but then the Heavy spoke.

“This is not good. I do not want this person here.” He strode from the room and slammed the door. There was a silent moment, everyone frozen in their seats.
>> No. 4074
ooh, plot!

Do we get Heavy angstage now?
>> No. 4076
I'm sorry to hear that you were feeling bad enough to have to spend time in a hospital, I do hope you're doing better, Marty.

I am really liking this story and how you portray Medic.
>> No. 4077
I really like how this is going, especially with Heavy.

Don't wanna be rude, but maybe you didn't see my question.

What Cat Bountry picture is this based on?
>> No. 4079
>>105

I'm glad that you're doing alright, despite your trials; depression by itself is difficult enough without the added stresses that dealing with sex and gender issues can cause a person.

As a minor technical quibble, the (canon) Medic is actually from Baden-Württemberg, which is in Germany's southwest. The once-Prussian territory that is within German borders is further to the north, and Prussia itself was to the northeast of the Swabian states; admittedly, "prussian" also describes a certain countenance, which is what you might have been going for. </historyfag>
>> No. 4082
Yay an update! Sorry to hear about what youve been through, trust me, i went in for depression too, treated me like i should have worn a straight jacket but thats a different story. I hope to see more of this story and how the other characters...let's say 'accomodate' to the medics prolonged stay. Hope you feel better!
>> No. 4083
Oh Marty!I'm so glad you updated, but it breaks my heart to hear about your health. I hope you can find some solace in the fact that you are an amazingly gifted writer, and you make so many people happy with it. Especially me. Never stop.
>> No. 4084
Thanks for all your kind wishes, everyone. I'm doing better now, and keeping an eye on my own mood.

>>104
Sorry, didn't mean to ignore you, I just had to hunt around a bit to find the picture. It's posted here: http://tf2chan.net/fanart/res/4178.html

>>109
Yes, Yang, I meant the Prussian military ideal that the German army tried to instill in its soldiers. Neither of the Medics here are ethnically Prussian, they just both went through the same sort of basic training. Thanks for noticing this sort of detail, though. It makes me glad I put it in.
>> No. 4091
Wonderful story! I'm sorry about what happened; my parents are giving me a hard time for being bi.
>> No. 4117
I'm literally sitting in shock and awe.
It was the best decision I've made today to visity tf2chan today. Wow this fic is incredible. In every possible meaning of the word it is, outstounding.
>> No. 4130
>>105 This chapter is dedicated to Ze Doktor, who encouraged me to keep working on this story

If by 'encouraged', you mean 'wouldn't shut up about it and constantly annoyed you', then yes.

I'm just going to sit over here and cackle like a super villain now.
>> No. 4133
Reading this made me feel horrible, dirty, and sad.

and I LOVED it. Great work, Marty.
>> No. 4178
alskdjlaskdhjaskldgjh I NEED MORE LIKE NONE OTHER. MOAAARRRRR D8

Marty, why you so amazing?
>> No. 5278
Finally, an update. Latest and final chapter, dedicated to Cat Bountry, who inspired the story, Oper, who gave it direction, and Ze Doktor, who encouraged me to carry it through.
------------------------------------------
PART 13

In the ringing silence that followed the BLU Heavy’s departure from the mess hall, the newly freed ex-Medic glanced over at the Scout.

“Excuse me,” he told the younger man. “My apology to your Heavy is long overdue.” He stood, pushed his chair in neatly, and followed the big man.

The Heavy had retreated to his bunk- the Medic was in time to hear the door close behind him.

“Sir? May I come in?” There was no answer, so the former RED turned the knob to look inside.

“What do you want?” The Russian was wild-eyed, spinning up his minigun and bringing it to bear on the man in the doorway. “Why follow me?”

“I want to apologise,” the Medic said, holding up his empty hands. “I am unarmed, with no desire to harm you. Even unarmed you could defeat me; with your minigun, you could obliterate me. I ask you not to, at least long enough for me to beg your forgiveness.”

The Heavy did not look at all happy, but at least he spun down the minigun rather than fire the huge weapon in an enclosed space.

“I am sorry that I chased you,” the former Medic continued, “sorry that I frightened you. Sorry that I killed you repeatedly and unpleasantly. I was in a Hell where love and blood were confused, and I thought that I loved you.”

“Love me?” the big man’s mouth hung open. “So you kill me and eat-” he gagged slightly.

“It was the only way I could hope to be close to you. You were so distant, so perfect. It did not occur to me that you could be frightened by a worm such as I. I am a lonely parasite, you are a god.”

“Lonely?” The Heavy’s brow furrowed and he took his hands off his gun.

“So very lonely. I had to fear what I loved, stand separate from all men, even in the centre of a crowd. I was... insane with isolation. I am sorry that I brought my madness to bear upon you.”

The Heavy looked at the doctor for a long moment. “You have been to Siberia?” he asked conversationally.

“No, never.”

“Is lonely place.” He motioned the Medic forward. “Come. Come in.” The Medic stepped hesitantly over the lintel. “You promise, you never again drink my blood, eat my heart, kiss- kiss when I am dead?”

“I swear.” The Medic raised his right hand.

“In twenty years, I fear nothing, no man. Now, I fear you,” the Heavy locked eyes with the Medic, “but I forgive you. I have been lonely, also.” He opened his arms and embraced the Medic, holding him tightly. When he loosened his grip, he kissed the gaunt man on both cheeks before letting him go.

“I am blessed,” the former RED said, resting his hands lightly on the Heavy’s. “I no longer feel that I love you, we may relieve each other’s loneliness.” He kissed the Russian on both cheeks.

When the former RED turned to leave the Heavy’s room, he was surprised to see the balance of the BLU team in the corridor outside. They were silent, frozen, holding their breath. The Sniper was staring at him down the barrel of a rifle full of tranquiliser darts.

“Jesus, Doc, I thought he was gonna pop your head off!” The Scout was the first to break formation, lunging forward to wrap his arms around the older man.

“He would have been justified,” the Medic nodded, pressing his nose into the Scout’s hair, “but there is mercy here.” The rest of the crowd broke up, returning to their breakfast with the Heavy behind them.

“C’mon, Doc,” the Scout tugged at his lover’s hand. “Let’s go get some pancakes an’ take ‘em to my room. I wanna show you pictures of Joey an’ Louie an’ Mark an’ Doug an’ Hal an’ Mel an’ Cal an’ Ma, and then I got some other ideas.”
>> No. 5279
*braces for the chorus of 'awwww'*

heh.
>> No. 5281
This whole story has been one delicious twist after another.

Also: awwwwww!
>> No. 5282
awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

With that over with, that was a pretty satisfying ending. Good on ya, Marty.
>> No. 5284
That's a pretty haunting ending right there. I mean, he's obviously still not mentally well, it's just that now his psychosis is working in his favor. Kind of a question of happiness vs sanity. Tbh, I would personally be a lot more satisfied if there had been some attempt at actually rehabbing him (I mean, wouldn't the BLU Medic at least try to get his hands on some antipsychotics?). Still, I respect you hugely as an author, and this whole thing definitely captures the RED Medic's inner struggle, which I believe you said was the point... It just feels somehow not over, if that makes sense.
>> No. 5299
Scout bros fo' liiiiiife
>> No. 5349
>>122

I'm glad you feel that way, Anon. Seriously, this is the kind of comment I live for. Not all my stories are worth it, but I was actually trying to make a point with this one, rather than just having sheer smut. Pretentious for smut, maybe, but yeah.

No, Medic isn't cured. Pyro said it- the Forts are good places for people to make their damage work for them.

Realistically, there wasn't really much rehabilitation happening back in the sixties. Standard treatment for delusions was actually a lobotomy (it was also used to "cure" homosexuality). People stopped hallucinating, but also thinking, feeling, or interacting in any meaningful way. The only antipsychotic available, cutting edge, state of the art, was Thorazine. It has been called a "chemical straitjacket." It made lobotomies obsolete by chemically converting patients to mumbling, shuffling lumps. This is what would have happened if Medic had gone to a real hospital like Sniper and Engineer wanted.

That's really beside the point, though, except that only the oldest treatment could help. All of the Medic's problems were caused by isolation, and his only cure was companionship.

Thank you all for reading, and I'm glad you enjoyed it.
>> No. 5350
>>122

I'm glad you feel that way, Anon. Seriously, this is the kind of comment I live for. Not all my stories are worth it, but I was actually trying to make a point with this one, rather than just having sheer smut. Pretentious for smut, maybe, but yeah.

No, Medic isn't cured. Pyro said it- the Forts are good places for people to make their damage work for them.

Realistically, there wasn't really much rehabilitation happening back in the sixties. Standard treatment for delusions was actually a lobotomy (it was also used to "cure" homosexuality). People stopped hallucinating, but also thinking, feeling, or interacting in any meaningful way. The only antipsychotic available, cutting edge, state of the art, was Thorazine. It has been called a "chemical straitjacket." It made lobotomies obsolete by chemically converting patients to mumbling, shuffling lumps. This is what would have happened if Medic had gone to a real hospital like Sniper and Engineer wanted.

That's really beside the point, though, except that only the oldest treatment could help. All of the Medic's problems were caused by isolation, and his only cure was companionship.

Thank you all for reading, and I'm glad you enjoyed it.
>> No. 5483
Thank you, Marty. I can definitely feel the RED Medic's inner peace now that everything is said and done with the Heavy. Wonderful writing as always. Cheers to you !
>> No. 5529
Incredible fic you have here, Marty. You have a real talent for writing this sort of psychodrama. The ending was fantastic. On one hand, RED Medic is better now, but on the other he is still far from well. If I can offer any criticism, RED Medic is a little Mary-sueish at times. But mostly, he was realistically and beautifully portrayed. I'm curious, where did you get all of this experience with psychology? It was all spot on. Hell of a story, looking forward to more of your work.
>> No. 5549
>>127
where did you get all of this experience with psychology? RED Medic is a little Mary-sueish at times
I think you just answered your own question, Anon.

Seriously, though, which bits strike you as Mary-Sue? Let me know so I can hunt 'em down and kill 'em in future writing.
>> No. 6166
This story scared the crap out of me. It's so.... weird :S. But well worth reading.
>> No. 6167
I am very glad this got bumped, otherwise I might not have ever seen it. I have to say, this is quite excellent, definitely something I'll probably reread some time or another.
>> No. 15245
This is amazin! I love Medic/Scout!
>> No. 15248
A very unnecessary bump, but then again I never would've read this masterpiece.
>> No. 15253
i second >132. holy shit.
>> No. 15297
I found this via my own whim, searching for something more to read.

I must say, that my situation has somehow.. quite perfectly been broken down and presented here.

It is Hell and the lone soul is the demon left to identify with broken visions.

I myself will not see resolve any time soon, but it was a beautiful experience to find something so close to home that can help me understand.

Lovely work, of course.
>> No. 16071
I honestly cannot describe exactly how this story made me feel, but I know that it is good. Fantastically well written!
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