Holy cow, I never saw THAT coming. I love this plot-twist! I'm very much looking forward to the next chapter.

Even assuming that Jean is ruthless enough to turn on the person who was trying to help him, Mutual Assured Destruction makes it highly unlikely that Jean is the rat. Betraying somebody who knows of your secret relationship with the enemy is a recipe for disaster, what would stop them from betraying you in turn? Besides, wouldn't Jean's employers ask him how he came to learn of Spy's secret? What could he say, "I know because of this letter here which also implies that I myself am guilty of the same!"?

...Then again, it's established that love turns people into dumbasses, to the point that a skilled professional spy got caught red-handed by a scout of all people, and half his team saw him doing suspicious things, so who knows...

In any case, HELL YEAH REVENGE! I could understand the person who ratted Spy out if his relationship with Sniper had caused him to do a poor job, but that's not the case at all, both Spy and Sniper were still being productive for their employers. As the motive appears to be unnecessary pettiness, bring the hammer of revenge down on them!

I have one question: if worse came to worse, couldn't Spy and Sniper simply quit their job with RED and BLU and get together as civilians? Of course leaving one's job is a HUGE deal, especially when it's such a specialized job, so I can see why they'd much rather hide their relationship. But still, it's not like they are forced to keep working for RED and BLU, and they probably have a lot of money saved up too. Is it a matter of pride?

Fuuuuuuuu-

I'm doing my best to not cry in front of my mom while I read this, because she'll think I'm crazy.

DEAR LORD. I'm with >>45. This story makes me believe in true love, and unconditional love, and happy endings, and all that lovely stuff that I have yet to experience, but hope to someday.

Please. Let it have a happy ending. That's all I ask. You can throw these two around, and have them suffer right now, but let it end up alright in the end.

Plot plot plottiness! Can't wait for more!

Aw, you guys! Thanks so much for feedbacking. (and hey, you know I can't keep them miserable forever, since Mercy had a far-future epilogue with happy mostly-retired times... so that's something to hold onto while I make them miserable)

~~~Ch. 14~~~

On Saturday the Engineer and I are both dragged out to the nearest town in spite of our reluctance, the rest of the team eager to acquaint the newcomers with life at Coldfront.

The 'town' is a pitiful little outpost, but the restaurant is at least warm. The decor leaves much to be desired, all knotty pine and stuffed wildlife, but our table is near to the fireplace that takes up a good half the back wall. The Medic and the Heavy enjoy their reunion, chattering on inanely about... about I don't even know. The Soldier and Scout are involved in a very American-sounding discussion, the Demoman is flirting with the waitress-- a woman who does not look like she receives much attention, but then again, there seems to be not much of a female population out here... perhaps she is used to quite a good deal of attention, from mercenaries and furriers and backwoods survival-types...

The Engineer has left the relative warmth and comfort of the restaurant to check out the local hardware store. I think it is also the general store, but they seem to carry quite a stock in snow shovels and cross-cut saws, at least.

The Demoman loses his waitress friend and instead turns to conversation with the Sniper, the Soldier is in the thick of a war story... I am content to merely sit here with my glass of wine until the time comes to return to the base. There is little I can ascertain here, I need to be able to look through the intelligence files on-base-- even then, they may do no good, but it would be nice, if I could find something useful here at Coldfront. Who knows when I will be able to search for answers at the company headquarters.

A woman comes in, shaking snow from her coat and boots before making a beeline for the fire. She sits on the wide stone hearth and casts several sidelong glances at our table, and I suppose I could not fault her-- even if she stared at us openly, it would be hard to. The Soldier's boisterous storytelling with the Scout's frequent interjections would draw attention in most establishments, but add to that the giant Russian, the loud laughter he draws out of the Medic, the black Scottish cyclops to my left... And me, my mask in place even indoors... We must be an odd-looking bunch.

At least the others haven't given the poor thing much notice yet. She might run right back out into the snow without her coat if the Demoman started giving her the eye. The singular and red-rimmed, alcohol-bleary eye.

She smiles shyly at me, and dear... I know I have an effect on the fairer sex when I choose to employ my charm for work, but this could be inconvenient... When she turns to face me, it is a near thing, but I muster the cool not to gasp at the scarring across her left cheek.

She slides down the hearth until she is near our table, and for a moment her focus is lost in the flames, I watch her reach out, so that the flickering light plays over her fingers.

"Cold out." She says to me, shy smile back in place. She has a voice that suggests a smoking habit to put my own to shame. "How are you adjusting?"

"Adjusting?"

She looks down quickly.

"Fine, I suppose." I lie. "Is it so obvious I am new in town?"

"N-no. No, of course-- Sorry. It's cold out."

"Yes. You mentioned."

"Fire's nice." She sighs, and she is no longer twisted around to face it, but she leans back so far that if her hair had not been bobbed short, it would be in the flames.

"Yes. It's why we chose the table."

The others have, by now, noticed her. They do not all manage to avoid the topic of her scar, several wolf-whistles peter out half-heartedly. She blushes and turns around, jumps up from the hearth and grabs her coat from the nearby hatstand. Then she is off, back into the snow...

"Well played, gentlemen." I roll my eyes.

"Yes, I certainly hope you are ashamed of yourselves." The Medic sighs at them. "As if you've not seen worse."

"It's different." The Soldier insists. "That was a woman!"

"Woman with half a face's better than no woman at all." The Sniper rationalizes.

"Oh, aye, it's just... surprising." The Demoman agrees.

"No way, man, that's not right." The Scout shakes his head. "You wouldn't see me with a chick who looked like that."

"We are not likely to see you with any 'chicks'." I snort.

"Hey, shut up."

"Oh, I'm sorry, which one did you want? The aged waitress is perhaps more your type?"

"Just 'cause there ain't no fuckin' hot women in Coldfront doesn't mean I couldn't get with one someplace else. One who's got her whole face."

"I did not even notice her." The Heavy says mildly.

"Of course you didn't." The Medic is snide, but... fond?

"Thought you liked redheads." The Sniper says.

"First girl I sleep with is redhead." He admits, a faraway smile coming over him. "But... some other things I like more."

The Medic, I cannot help but notice, is rather unhappy with that turn...

"I hardly think that is dinner table conversation." He sniffs.

"Last time I sleep with someone, though, much better."

"It still isn't dinner table conversation, Heavy..." He softens.

I suppose I might find it interesting, if it didn't remind me of my own contrasting misery. Well, maybe I should be happy that at least one of the teammates to follow me from Doublecross did so without any negative impact to his own social life.

The restaurant is emptying out, and the Sniper grabs his hat and jacket. "Gonna go grab Truckie from across the street, we need to get back before it's much later."

I pick up my own hat, watch the others bundle up against the cold. When we meet up by the two trucks-- the one with attached camper, one without-- the Sniper has an arm around the Engineer's shoulders, and the Engineer...

"Mon ami, you look positively thunderstruck." I guide him to the passenger's side. Someone else will have to take driving duties...

"That's just about right." He smiles at me. There's a bag in his hands, with a new wrench I am positive he does not need, and a box marked 'Mann Co Sno-Chain'. "That is just about right. Hit by thunder..."

"Do any of you know how to drive this infernal thing?" I slap the side of the truck. "I will trade places with anyone who does."

"Bloody won't." The Sniper calls back, before climbing into his own. "Squeeze on into the middle."

I do, with a huff of irritation, and the Soldier crams himself into the driver's seat, wedging me in uncomfortably, leaving the Scout and Demoman in the front of the Sniper's truck-- much in the same configuration-- and the Heavy and the Medic in the camper in back.

"Do those chains belong on the tires?" I peer into the Engineer's bag of purchases. "Should we do this before we drive?"

"We'll do it in the morning." The Soldier snorts. "I have driven in the winter before, don't be a little girl about it."

We do, of course, slide right off the road. The Sniper has driven on to the base, and whether we try to stay in the truck or walk back, it seems likely we will all freeze. Though I suppose if we manage to freeze to death, we can just respawn back at the base...

A squat little car comes to a halt on the road beside our spinning wreck, the woman from the restaurant comes spilling out into the snow.

"I thought I told you to buy those snow chains!" She knocks on the window. "Are you all all right?"

"Ma'am." The Soldier salutes, opening the driver's side door. The three of us come piling out-- it is the only door which opens now.

"I'm fine!" The Engineer assures her, though he needs a hand getting out. His door is pinned shut against a fir tree, but we came to a mercifully gentle stop against it, and none of us were terribly hurt.

"Climb on in before you freeze." She yanks open the passenger's door of her own car, and the Soldier pushes the seat forward and squeezes into the back.

I follow. The Engineer climbs into the front, and the woman resumes her place at the driver's seat.

"You're a very experienced winter driver." I say, and the Soldier merely glares at me.

"Now, I swear we were gonna put those chains on in the morning." The Engineer says. The look he gives her is besotted, but she cannot possibly be the girl he fancied he loved in the town near the Doublecross bases. Is he that prone to falling for ladies he meets in hardware stores? Perhaps only if they are redheads.

"All three of you are heading straight back to Coldfront, ain't ya?" She asks, turning to look at the backseat.

"Affirmative." The Soldier nods.

"You know it?" I say.

"I'm not unfamiliar." She coughs.

Her purse is on the seat between the Soldier and I. It strikes me as familiar, but she did not have it in the restaurant. And it is not as though I routinely see many purses...

We reach the base without further incident, and the Soldier salutes her smartly from outside her car window.

"Ma'am, I will personally whip some shape into every one of those men who might have bothered you in the restaurant." He promises, as though he had not been one of them.

"Many thanks, Mademoiselle." I bow.

"I'll make sure to get those snow chains on. Uh, when I get the truck towed back up here." The Engineer says, leaning back in through the open passenger's door. "Thanks again, Miss. It was quite the surprise seeing you there, but it was a mighty nice one."

"I bet you say that to all the girls who pull you out of a snowbank at nine o'clock at night." She giggles hoarsely.

"Oh, no, I mean-- I mean it was sure nice seeing you in the store, too."

She smiles-- prettily, in spite of her scars. Then again, scars have never been a turn-off to me... in all honesty her gender is more of a barrier to my being attracted to her than the scars are.

And from there my thoughts spiral back to the man I am missing, to the stories he has told me about every scar scratched or gouged, carved or shot or bitten into his skin. I walk back to my room still thinking of the angry red welt still wrapped around his calf from a jellyfish sting years ago, the pale line across his abdomen from a knife fight in a bar right before he had joined RED, the old bullet scar in one shoulder from a rival assassin-- the rival, he had told me with great relish, did not survive to develop a scar-- and the smaller raised red dots around it from shrapnel, from when the next bullet had hit the wall behind him. Even on the run, his shot had been clean through the man's eye.

There were others, some faded so that only after close inspection could I even see them, some still clear. A lifetime of dangerous living, wild animals outside the bounds of civilization, and the even more dangerous animals men like us must deal with in the civilized world. There were the marks of jobs gone wrong and the marks of leisure time interrupted. I had learned every one of them by heart, even the nearly-invisible ones, followed them all with eyes and hands and lips as he told the stories to me.

In bed, I trace over my own scars and remember the way he had watched me as I shared my stories with him. The nick to my wrist when I had first learned to twirl the balisong in an impressive fashion-- or rather, from just before I learned to do so properly. There is a faint raised line down the very center of my back, when luck more than skill saved me from a rival of my own, and I cannot reach to touch it myself, but I recall the way he touched it, his thumb sliding along my skin. The deep cut across my forearm where I had shielded my face once, a thrilling story if any of my stories were. The rough marred spot on my ankle, where I had scraped it to the bone after being tackled to the ground by a night watchman. Whether I killed him or merely hurt him badly, to this day I do not know, but that had been a fairly thrilling tale as well, the fight and my limping escape over a hedge and down a series of alleys...

I am unlikely to scar, as long as my contract with BLU remains-- a contract that will not come up for renegotiation for another year, and I hate to think what reprisals there might be for trying to worm out of it early-- but when we meet again, we can trade stories of the scars that never come to be, we can hang enraptured on each other's words again as we paint pictures of violence and daring.

I do not know how many lonely nights there will be, before this will happen. I cannot go back to Doublecross, if my employers suspect that my connection to the Sniper is at all emotional, they will be on guard for it...

I could go to Teufort. If he has written me, the letter will arrive there. I cannot travel there by conventional means, that perpetual desert is far from these snowbound mountains, but if the Engineer is in a good mood, if the base's teleport system can be tweaked... if it is possible to use it to travel between bases, instead of merely to headquarters, then it will be possible for him to send me there.

It would be possible.

Dat lady is a pyro! i know i dont comment every time but i watch this update every morning before work! i love it! cant wait for more!

I'm loving this story so much! You write a wonderful yarn and seriously spoil us with daily updates.

Will you be letting us know how Sniper is dealing with Spy's sudden disappearance?

I'm also betting that the lady is a Pyro.

I know I've already said that, while I love to read a different pov of the same story, I still prefer to read entirely new events.

But I have to admit, in this case, I'm very curious to read what is going on at Doublecross while Spy is away. How would Sniper react to finding a different BLU Spy? Their first meeting could be hilariously awkward if Sniper doesn't see his face and realizes too late that it's not his Spy (of course the moment of comedy would be immediately followed by serious drama, but the mental image of Jean going all "EEEEEEEK! HE MOLESTED ME WITH THOSE SMELLY JARATE-HANDLING PAWS!" makes me snicker). And both Jean and RED Spy strongly dislike snipers, but they still owe Spy a favour and they understand what it's like to be separated from the person you love. The character interactions could be extremely interesting.

Once this story is over, I'd love to re-read it from the pov of somebody who stayed at Doublecross while Spy was away. Either Sniper's pov, or RED Spy's, or Jean's. Any of those would be extremely interesting.

Thanks so much, you guys. (Yes, everyone's lady-Pyro predictions have come to light...)

I do totally plan to write the Dustbowl side of things post-Spy's-transfer (though I have been having a hard time deciding whose POV to use).

~~~Ch. 15~~~

"Can we talk?" I approach the Engineer on Sunday, catching him in the halls.

"I take it the topic's confidential?" He nods.

"With me-- No one will be looking in the supply room on the weekend..."

"All right." He shrugs and follows. Nothing more is said until we reach the room.

"You build teleporters in battle," I begin, pacing the floor. "I can only assume that they are not so different from the teleportation system that runs between the bases and the headquarters?"

He frowns. "Not too different."

"I... I know, I cannot return to Doublecross. Even if I were still so foolish, I would never ask you to help me."

"You didn't drag me down here for your intellectual curiosity."

"Teufort. I receive mail there. And..." And there would be records at headquarters, the answers to who betrayed me-- us. But I do not dare bring that idea up. He may have argued my ultimate loyalty when it was just a question of two men seeking some release together, and after all, I did do my job. He cannot make that argument if I propose breaking into the files of our employers. Even if I trusted him to help without balking, it would be putting him in jeopardy, and that is... that is a lot to ask of any man.

Odd, though... We both assumed he had given something up in helping me, but the woman in town...

My pacing takes me past the lockers while he mulls over what I have asked him, and suddenly, something catches my eye.

"Your lady friend..." My hand closes around the strap of the purse. "Do you know much about her?"

"No." He comes up behind me. "You know, it's not polite digging through your own teammates' things."

I turn to him, purse still in hand. "This was in her car."

He shakes his head, then stares at it, takes it from me. After a moment, he sighs and pushes past me to replace it in the locker. "Still not polite. And... It's not..."

"Not possible? What do we know about him-- or, her? If not, how could this lady show up in Coldfront after you saw her out by Doublecross?"

He pales. "Do you think I should talk to her? She... she'd'a been sitting right there when we all-- Ohh... oh boy..."

I smirk. "Well. Maybe it means she is sweet on you as well. After all, she did not have to take sides and move out to Coldfront."

"Maybe it's a coincidence."

"It would have to be a great many coincidences." I shake my head.

"I don't know if I can get you to Teufort from here. I'll look into it and let you know, though."

"It's all I can ask." I pat his shoulder.

"You really think--"

"I think it is a damn lot of coincidences if it is not so. You are a man of science, presumably of mathematics, you know as well as I do how unlikely all these coincidences would be... Cherchez la femme, pardieu, cherchez la femme! Go."

"Guess I should apologize for, um, bringing up her hips in... mixed company..."

I laugh. "You are every inch the gentleman, mon ami. And I appreciate all your help."

He wanders off in one direction, and after a while, so do I. The Sniper stops me in the hallway, one arm blocking my way.

"Excuse me." I move to step around him, and he blocks me again.

"Figured you'd be wondering," He steps forward to try and loom over me. "Why I'd bother coming along with you and Truckie and the others, when I hadn't exactly been quick to defend you."

"The change of scenery?"

He laughs. "Coldfront? Nah, not my idea of pleasant. I don't trust you. I didn't trust you at Doublecross and I don't trust you anywhere else. Out of every place, this is about as remote as it gets, and maybe a man gets lonely. You picked up your last one in Thunder Mountain, that's what you said?"

That I had been at Thunder Mountain before Teufort was no secret, though I was sure I had not mentioned, at least not to him, meeting my own Sniper there. I say nothing, and the Sniper just chuckles meanly and leans further into my space.

"Well I am here to keep an eye on you. Truckie, he thinks it was just an isolated incident, you and that RED. Said you'd been stationed 'round each other a couple times. But I figure, a man like you crosses the line once, he'll do it again."

"A man 'like me'?" I draw myself up. Our heights are not too different, when I do.

"Sneaky." He pushes my chest, not enough to knock me back, but enough for me to feel it. "Dirty. Can't trust spies any further'n you can throw 'em, especially spies who play... friendly, with the enemy. And I wasn't at Thunder Mountain, or at Teufort. I got no way of knowing if you seduced him or if it was the other way around. All I know is you let it drag on too long. And I better not catch you playing around with any more REDs out here."

He pokes my chest again and I knock his hand away. "You won't."

"You sure about that?"

"Positive."

"It's a lonely place."

"I said, I am positive."

"And I catch a lot of what goes on 'round here."

"If you say." I brush past him.

He snorts. "You... You're not-- Are you in love with him?"

I keep walking. He grabs my arm and I spin around, yanking free. "Don't you touch me."

"I don't know which is worse." He sneers and pushes me into the wall. "I mean, what it says about you either way ain't good, mate, but... it'd be one thing if you were just going 'round trying to get people into bed. Be something different if you were actually using your 'wiles' or whatever to do your job--"

"I do my job!" I spit.

"Course, if you are in love with him, I guess I don't have to watch you... that'd be just sad. But I also know better than to trust anything you tell me."

"Let. Me. Go." I growl. I do not bother reaching for a weapon when one will do me no good, but I prepare for a fight nonetheless. "I have done my job and I will do my job, and I have no intentions of 'crossing the line' again, with anyone in this godforsaken place. Not on RED, and not on BLU."

He takes a step back, his hands up in a mockery of surrender, and everything about his grin is oily. "Well. I'll keep that in mind."

"See that you do." I straighten my suit. This time, he lets me pass, and does not stop me from leaving, but I can feel his stare heavy on my back all the way down the straight corridor.

It gives me a likely suspect, anyway. And with the Scout from Doublecross still at Doublecross, there is no way to investigate my second likeliest enemy further.

I do not return to my room. Instead, I find the lounge where the Heavy and Medic are playing chess, and I take a seat near them. Ostensibly to watch their game, but in reality... In reality, if another potential fight is picked, I would rather it be in the vicinity of a man who can easily put a stop to it. If the Heavy is in love with his doctor, and if the harassment seems based on my preferences-- if it revolves more heavily around my liking men than it does the affiliation of my lover-- he may at least offer me some protection.

At the very least, if I am near my teammates and an altercation threatens our unity as a team, then the fight will be stopped. Unarmed, I do not know that I could take my team's Sniper in a fight, and I do not know that he will be content to keep an eye on me from afar, now that he has already begun to employ strong-arming tactics.

I make mindless and amiable chit-chat with the Heavy and the Medic and hope to ingratiate myself. This Heavy, at least, knows me as a man who sometimes mingles with the team, and I find their conversation is intellectual-- in topic, at least, if not always in content, for both the doctor and I speak English much more fluently than the Heavy. Still, the tone is set, and I am happy to be around men who at least know what an opera is, even if one of them cannot speak about it eloquently.

~~~Ch. 16~~~

On Monday after battle, the mail comes in, and with it there comes a message for me from Coldfront. I retreat to my room with it, tear the envelope open with shaking hands.

'Monsieur,

I hope you will not hold it against me, if I have used your misfortune to my benefit. I find it much warmer here, and the scenery is more to my liking.

I was present, for the hearing (if you want to call it that). I suggested being stationed at Coldfort ought to be punishment enough for any man.

Since the move, I have assured those you left behind that you are doubtless fine. However, if you wish to pass along word of your own, I would of course be happy to see news of you reaches the right ears. After all, I still owe you a favor, do I not?

Sincerely,
Doublecross, formerly Coldfront'

I could read between the lines easily enough. At least a similar circuitous route will let me get word to my Sniper, even if he cannot write me in return.

Once my hands feel steady enough, I set to work writing my reply.

'Monsieur,

It is good, to have an ally I can trust, at least for as long as we remain indebted to each other.

If any men there are interested, I am keeping warm enough despite the weather and getting along nicely. We will rotate out eventually, something to which I look forward immensely, but until then, I will survive. Well, on and off. There are features of Doublecross I miss immensely, of course. A few charming spots you may have already become acquainted with yourself, off-base. If you have not, you could always ask a friend to show you, I'm sure that someone will be glad to give you the scenic tour.

Thank you again for the offer, not that there are very many there who will want news of me. Still, for the one who does, I appreciate it.

Coldfront, formerly Doublecross'

I am heading down to post it when the BLU Sniper once again interrupts me.

"This is getting tiresome, don't you agree?" I sidestep him, but he snatches the letter.

"Who's this to, then?"

"It is inter-base mail. If you could read, you would see that it is addressed to the spy holding my old position at Doublecross." I sneer.

He rips it open neatly with the edge of his kukri and scans the page. "You spies always write all fancy to each other?"

"We were in communication before the switch. I am in communication with many of BLU's spies. And this one has offered to smooth over the switch with our former teammates." I grab the letter back.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I suppose now that I have to address a new envelope anyway, I could add a post-script from you. 'The Sniper is also doing well, but he is practically illiterate, so he has not written any of his little friends. Please tell Scout and Soldier and Demoman that he misses them'."

"And here I thought you liked Snipers. Only when they're killing your mates then, huh?"

My pulse speeds. "Jealous, Monsieur?"

"Not bloody likely." He shoves me, and starts down the hall, but he turns before he can reach the corner. "You can keep your hands to yourself, and don't forget I got my eye on you."

"Oh, no worries." I call after him. "I would not touch you if my life depended on it!"

He leaves me with a rude gesture before disappearing, and I lean against the wall and do my best to smooth away the wrinkles he's left in my letter. At least... at least what? At least there was nothing overt on the page. At least my life does not hinge on being willing to whore myself out to any of my teammates-- and it was such a relief to be pushed away and told off for suggesting he might want me. I am not sure what I would do, if he did. Bad enough to be worried about being monitored, but to think I was being watched-- not just as a threat, but as some sexual object... My skin crawls enough without that.

Besides, I cannot help but think... If it came down to fighting him, physically, I would be motivated, and I do think I could get away. That is not my concern. If it came down to a war of words, though, I would never be believed over any of my teammates. I have one black mark on my record, after all, my preferences are suspected if not known.

The letter smooths out well enough, and I make the trip back for a new envelope without incident. Finally, I post it. When I reach the mess hall, dinner is halfway finished, and the Sniper is watching me from the corner. I take a seat near the Engineer, and even rattled as I am, it does not escape my notice that he and the Pyro seem to be rather more close than usual.

"Having a good evening?" I ask him.

"Oh, sure." He nods. At least the goggles serve to hide his lovestruck gaze from the rest of the team... "Interesting news from your spy pal?"

"Oh, nothing much. No new technology coming in, that anyone knows about. Merely letting me know that the rest of the old team is fine, I suppose, in the wake of the recent changes."

He nods, and at least he does not see any reason to doubt me.

"It is fine, if you cannot fix the teleportation system." I say. "I may not need it, after all."

He just nods some more. The Pyro's posture is... disturbingly coy, really. I leave them alone and return to my room. I am not really hungry...

Man, somebody is a weeeeee-bit sour that he got dominated by RED Sniper. I bet RED Sniper had a cooler hat, too!

Oh my...I am in love with this story. I hope...well I hope something happens between the the BLU Sniper and Spy...just because I'm horrible. Eheh.

Also, I'm loving the adorable Engineer/Pyro pair that is developing. Super cute.

"On Monday after battle, the mail comes in, and with it there comes a message for me from Coldfront."

I think you mean Doublecross.

>>60: Well, "Coldfront" here could refer to "the spy (originally) from Coldfront", and not the place Coldfront. That's a possible explanation.

>>58

Heh, yes. It's all about the hat rivalries... (Now I have to think about which hats they have... if BLU Sniper just has the standard slouch hat and RED Sniper has the Trophy Belt, I could see that being a huge factor in the jealousy...)

>>59

Thank you! (And it's okay, I toy with being horrible myself from time to time...) (And I'm glad you're enjoying the Engie/Pyro. I 'ship it regardless of what the Pyro's gender is, but I had really wanted to write Engie falling for a girl he sees in town only for her to be the Pyro, and I couldn't turn it into anything more than a subplot...)

>>60
>>61

D'oh! No, it was the me-making-a-mistake. Times like this I really wish I could edit after posting...

~~~Ch. 17~~~

The week wears on, much as the week always does. I do my job and I do it well, and when we are off-duty, I spend as much of my time as possible in the company of my teammates. The Engineer, when he is not... otherwise occupied, and if he is hidden away in his workshop or some such thing, my second choice is always to fall in with the Medic and the Heavy. I even build a little rapport with them.

When all three are unaccounted for, I find the Soldier and ask for his strange, rambling lectures on 'The Art of War'. For showing an interest, he takes to me well enough, though I think to him all spies are interchangeable, and he may not remember me from the team we were both on before.

The Scout and the Demoman are both lost causes, the Sniper has befriended them both before I was able to get to know either. I do not doubt that he would be able to sway the Soldier, if it really came down to it-- it is not as though I am close with the man, and I doubt he would have a favourable view of me if certain aspects of my life came out. A friendship across enemy lines he might be sympathetic to, a love affair...

Still, if it comes to that, the Engineer has defended me once, and the Heavy and his Medic are almost certainly lovers, so if it is a question of preference, I can count on protection there...

What quarters I turn to for help depend greatly on what it is I am attacked with, but at least I am building potential alliances within my team.

On Friday the mail brings with it a reply, but before I can get to the Scout with the mail bag, the Sniper is intercepting my letter.

I trust my fellow spy to be cryptic enough, but the intrusion is unforgivable, when he opens it, gaze challenging mine across the lounge.

"Do you mind?" I stride over.

"Kind of do. Always have. You spies always gossiping 'tween each other." He flops back onto the sofa, eyes flicking over the letter. "Guess I always thought it would be more interesting than this."

"This is bad teamwork." The Heavy stands, crossing the room. "If Spy has private letter, Spy has private letter."

"You were with us, you know why they had to transfer--" The Sniper starts.

"Yes." Heavy looms over him. "Liked opportunity to transfer. Do not know about you... But this is letter from more BLU teams, so this is nothing to worry about."

His eyes dart between the Heavy and myself, before he hands it over. "Well. Boring anyway."

The Heavy moves back to sit with the Medic again, and I go with him. "Thank you. Your... faith in me, is appreciated."

"You make mistake on last base, sometimes this happens." He shrugs. "Understand if you do not have many... options."

I want to argue the point-- it wasn't a mistake, nor limited to the last base-- but either one of those things would be a whole new can of worms, and one that might lose me an ally. "Well, thank you."

"Mistake?" The Medic looks between us now, mildly interested. "Options?"

"Will explain later, Doktor. Need to start dinner, is my turn to cook..."

"I'll come help." The Medic stands, smiling fondly.

I look over the letter. A smattering of facts about Coldfront and the outlying area, and a heavily-coded assurance, that my Sniper was all right, that there were no problems with his team. That he was happy to hear I was fine.

I start towards my room, to put the letter away, but out of the corner of my eye, I catch the Sniper tailing me, and I instead make a detour, walking quickly, to the mess hall. There is a large pass-through window, between the mess and the kitchen, where I can hear the Medic and the Heavy talking and laughing, about nothing in particular outside of the preparation of dinner.

I make enough noise with a chair when I settle, so that they will not continue to think they are alone.

The Sniper takes a seat opposite me.

"Can't hide behind fatso forever." He whispers.

I look as unconcerned as I can manage-- and I manage it much better than I feel-- and shrug. He just shakes his head and stays.

The wait for dinner is uncomfortable, but when the others begin to filter in, he makes for the other end of the table.

Oooh I thrive on tension, and i could cut this one with a kukuri. I must commend your refreshing Sniper characterisation - it is unusual to see what is effectively a 'role reversal' between personalities of the Spy and Sniper, but it does fit surprisingly well. I feel an adrenalin rush whenever the Sniper appears in all of his stealthy Australian glory and this makes me a happy woman.

Thank you for your fabulous contributions to the Fan fiction world Anne, you are credit to team.

Aw, thank you!

~~~Ch. 18~~~

It is on Sunday that the Sniper finally corners me again away from the others. I am expecting insinuations or even threats, but I am not expecting what it is I get.

The shock wears off fairly quickly, though the revulsion does not. Still, after a bare fraction of a second of his lips on mine, everything breaks down into clear, logical steps.

Step one, my foot and half my weight onto the instep of his left foot.

Step two, to occur at the same time, my pressure on his foot unlifting, my hands shoving against his shoulders, at half strength. I want him off me, I do not yet want him on the ground.

That is step three. If I am lucky, steps three and four.

Step three is a sharp uppercut, step four a jab to one eye, and his glasses shatter. I keep my weight on his foot even as he does go down, and when he cannot catch himself, it wrenches his ankle. Only after that do I step off.

He swears around a mouthful of blood-- and, I hope, a loose tooth or two-- and pulls himself up.

"One of us is going to regret that." He growls, pointing at me.

"Monsieur, I assure you, my only regret with regards to my actions would be the ineffectiveness of friendly fire, and the limits it places upon me. Whatever my preferences, I do not whore myself out to any man who comes along, I do not take well to being bullied, and I do not intend to be the one who comes out of this encounter worse for wear."

"Yeah? It's your word against mine."

I laugh. "Going to the team with your made-up stories? So short-sighted... I will trust the more level-headed men here to believe what they will. My concern is not in making you look guilty before our teammates, nor even our employers. But tell me, are there no skeletons occupying that closet with you?"

"What are you getting at?" He tries to crowd me again.

"If you have ever done anything... regrettable, within a matter of days, I could know about it. And if you never have, then..." I shrug. "You have said yourself, I am a sneak, a despicable man with no moral compunctions. The kind of man who would not hesitate, I am sure, to learn what he could about an enemy's family."

"Touch my family and I'll end you."

"Touch me again, and every man on RED will know where they live and what they look like. I am not joking with you. There may be things in my life which I wish to keep secret, but every man has secrets, and between the two of us, who do you think is the most adept at revealing those secrets?"

Impotent rage twists at his face, but he says nothing and does nothing.

"Now," I continue loftily. "Our colleagues do not need to know that you are a deviant yourself..."

"I'm not-- I just-- It wasn't supposed--" He sputters, and I cut him off with a look.

"They do not need to. But some of them will believe me over you. And they will hear of this if you are not cooperative."

He bites down on his lower lip, crossing his arms and throwing himself against the wall, but the tension running through him keeps the lean he affects from looking truly casual. Merely resentful.

"I came under censure. Whose fault? What testimonies were given, which were coached and which honest? Who benefits and how?"

"The Scout... the Scout saw 'im kiss ya." He growls. "While you were getting stabbed. Dunno if that's some kind of... thing--"

"A precautionary measure, if not enough of one. Continue. The Scout did not hang me alone."

"Nah. Must've happened after I took a bullet between the eyes, or I woulda caught it. Scout said he thought the RED Sniper was some kind of... dunno, murder-rapist. Got up in arms about it, too, 'til Truckie talked him down."

"And?" I flex my hand. The knuckles still smart, but at least I am able to fish out a new cigarette and light it without any visible signs of pain.

"And I saw him grab your hand. I saw him help you up onto that deck and you let him kill you. It was the first thing I saw when I got back to my post. Once I heard what the Scout had to say, it came together."

"The others?"

"Coached." He admits. "Even with Truckie calming him down, it didn't take much for the Scout to spill it all to Soldier, and once he had, it didn't take much for the Soldier to think he'd caught you being suspicious once or twice. He put the squeeze on the Doc to get you out. Didn't want fruits on the team."

"I see." I regard him coolly, walk closer to flick the ash from my cigarette onto the toe of his boot. "And of course none of these... upstanding gentlemen, suspected that you were a 'fruit'?"

"I'm not!" He makes an aborted lunge towards me.

"Ah ah... I already know your file, Monsieur. Tracking down the family will not be difficult, remember that."

"You can't really--"

"I have a vast network." I say. Something of an exaggeration, but any spy he has worked with will have notes collected, not to mention the RED Spy at Doublecross, who should have a file on all the enemies he has faced. "There is quite a lot I can do, when properly motivated."

"I could still ruin you." He says.

"If you think it is worth it." I smirk.

I stand my ground in the hallway, and this time, he is the one to lope away like the frightened rabbit.

That's right, run you stalker you!

I love actually getting up in the mornings to read your work everyday, and today as suspected left me awestruck. This totally makes up for that two hours of sleep I have.

I'm sure the sniper will do something again soon, since he's so conflicted. Also, I really love the side story between engineer and pyro, for some twisted reason I never really see enough of that.

But tell me, are there no skeletons occupying that closet with you? Oh snap!

I love this story so much. I love everything you write, actually, loved Mercy and Mercy Redux, and your Tentaspy fic, and of course this. I especially like the BLU Sniper here, even though he’s supposed to be the bad guy. He’s just so conflicted and doing all the wrong things, and I can’t help thinking that he’s got some very confused feelings towards Spy – it seems to me like he was hoping that with Spy’s Sniper out of the picture he would have a chance himself, only he really sucks at not being a jerk.

I actually suspected he might try something for a while, ever since this exchange:

“And I better not catch you playing around with any more REDs out here."

"You won't."

"You sure about that?"

"Positive."

"It's a lonely place."

"I said, I am positive."

I was thinking, who’s lonely out here, Sniper, the Spy or yourself? And later when he reacts to Spy’s mocking:

"And here I thought you liked Snipers. Only when they're killing your mates then, huh?"

He then runs off when Spy asks him if he’s jealous. It’s like he has no idea what to do and resorts to what he knows, which are threats overlying hinted suggestions, like someone’s who’s too wary of incriminating himself or in denial about his own feelings and don't understand how to deal with it or how to interact socially with another person. Maybe he even felt an attraction towards Spy before he found out about the other Sniper, and this is all a result of him totally failing to understand how other people work and thinking he’d have a shot with the competition out of the way, since Spy so obviously likes Snipers. He even followed Spy to Coldfront - if this was just a matter of professionalism, he could have split Spy and his Sniper apart and stayed at Doublecross himself, but he didn't.

Maybe I’m reading too much into this, but I’m actually feeling a bit sorry for him. Not that he’s not a total ass, because he is. I kind of wish Spy could help him sort out the mess he’s made of himself, only I also want Spy to end up with his own Sniper, so now I’m really confused.

In any case, looking forward to finding out what'll happen in the next chapter!

I must admit, while BLU Sniper was a dick and totally deserved the beating, I can't help feeling sorry for him.

Guy grew up in a country where homosexuality is illegal, must have been repressed as all get out just to survive, spent decades in loneliness, convinced himself that he could never ever have what he wanted... And then he finds out that a fellow Australian he duels against everyday has been happily flipping the bird to those idiotic laws and making love to BLU Sniper's own teammate.

Must have burned something fierce, no wonder he was so resentful :/

It really speaks well of your abilities as a writer, that you can make your antagonist act like an asshole and still inspire sympathy.

In any case, now that we know that Soldier was the rat, I'm SO glad that there are several teams! I love Jane Doe, I'm so glad the guy who turned Spy in is a different soldier.

Ahh I love reading this in the mornings!!! And I actually, like Spy, totally did not see that kiss coming. AT ALL. But when it did I went "aha...that makes sense." Anne, I love you. You turn a situation that so easily could have been about homophobia and hate and persecution into repressed lust. ...And a li'l bit of hate still, I think.

The one thing I do actually feel bad for BLU Sniper about is that it seems to have blindsided him just as much as it did Spy, and that I find both sad and hilarious. That kiss puts him totally off his game, which he deserved for being an ass. I am mildly surprised he answered all of Spy's questions so thoroughly without more smart-assery, but hey. Shocking self-revelations can do that to a man.

Hehehe. ....I do miss the fluffy happy romance though. I hope they see each other again soon. Or that the RED and BLU spies at Doublecross take some pity on them and figure out something.

Oh, wow. Okay, thanks, you guys, so much. I'm glad the BLU Sniper could tug at audience sympathies while still being a total asshat there, because I was definitely trying for 'inexcusable behaviour but understandable motives'. He's a ball of neuroses right now...

(And definitely under-representing his own part in things while he pins it all on the soldier and scout...)

~~~Ch. 19~~~

Monday morning, I breakfast with most of the team and do not see the Sniper at all. Neither this Scout nor this Soldier were present at Doublecross, and neither is overly unpleasant to be around. Of all the Soldiers I have worked with, this one is... or was, perhaps, at one point, the most mentally stable. Not that I am saying so very much by that, but he does his job well enough and when he is not going off on angry rants, he is fine to have about the place.

I cannot help but think of his counterpart at Doublecross, though, and the boy's... No, perhaps that Scout I could not blame too much. I need to find out something about the Soldier who convinced him to go to our employers with my transgression. Soldiers, unlike spies, are... plentiful. If there is anything in his past or his present behaviour which is heinous enough, I could lose him his job. Even if there is not, I can find some way of getting even with the man, if we are ever stationed together again.

The Medic is unexpectedly kind, during breakfast and after, when we make our preparations for the coming battle. So his Heavy has told him that I am a lonely homosexual prone to making foolish mistakes, perhaps. At least none of his kindness speaks of a more personal interest.

Before the battle, I still do not see our Sniper, but... I had been so sure his refusal was genuine, he was vocal enough about it. I should have listened instead to the last bit of doubt, the warning bells. There is not much we can do yet, but it's strange for any member of the team to be missing before we leave the base.

The Engineer... the Engineer is happy, and I am happy for him. I am not used to second-hand happiness, but it is the best I can do out here for now, and so at least I have that to warm me. No one else on the team knows the reason for it, of course. They don't notice too much, I think... the Soldier, the Demoman, the Scout, they all seem happy to let the private lives of their teammates go largely unremarked upon. Oh, there is teasing, of course, whenever someone makes a target of themselves, but no longer are these men who have known each other long months, and none of them are over-invested in each other.

That is fine with me. Too many people have been invested in my private life.

The battlefield is cold, as always. The Scout never stops moving long enough to feel it, I suppose, and he goes running out every day with nothing but an undershirt. The Heavy also has no use for sleeves, but perhaps Coldfront is nothing unto the winters of Siberia, and it's not as though he doesn't provide his own insulation.

The enemy Spy here is somewhat listless. Not by any means incompetent, he does his job, but there is no personal touch to it, no real relish. He manages to best me more than either of the previous two RED spies I faced, but never rubs his victories in my face.

The enemy Medic is dour, though you can catch him cackling madly if the spray of syringes from his gun downs our Scout. The enemy Heavy is a slow and inscrutable killing machine, in that respect no different from any other heavy I have seen on either side of the field.

The enemy Soldier is unhinged, the enemy Engineer is a machine-loving freak with a robotic hand and a screw loose, the enemy Demoman is boozy but sharp, and the enemy Pyro is, of course, a soulless monster. The enemy Scout seems no different from our Scout, speedy and unthinking in the face of combat.

The enemy Sniper... He is so very clearly not my Sniper, for all their similarities. The differences are so obvious to me that I do not give any additional thought to the man. If I come across him, I kill him, and my only pang of regret is that I am here instead of back at Doublecross. For all that any of us look so much like the others of our class, when I look at him there is not even an instant of confusion where I think I might be looking at my own.

And our Sniper... aside from ducking briefly through the supply room before the start of the day, our Sniper does not show himself until well after dinner, though there is ample evidence on the field that he has been performing his duties, neat headshots that were not the result of my efforts with the Ambassador, neatly gutted enemies kicked down from high places, patches of yellow snow.

After dinner, though, he is in the hallway outside my room, head bowed and hat twisted between his hands. An apology would certainly be in order, but I cannot quite believe I am going to receive one. Every time I think I know what that man's problem is, he sends me for a loop.

"I shouldn't've kissed ya." He says. Not quite an apology.

"No. You should not have."

"It isn't even you, not really. Nothing wrong with ya, I mean, just... It could've been anyone, over there, with him. And I guess I would've... Just so hard to find someone in this mess, and..."

"The next time you think you may have found a gentleman amenable to your advances, I suggest not going with a campaign of insults and threats." I snort.

"I'm not-- I'm not really-- I just--"

"No." I shake my head and push him back from my door. "No more of this. We agreed that I would not speak of what occurred between us without further provocation, but you do not get to do this, this... pretending. It is hard to find someone because you are not interested in going into town to fuck the women there. If you cannot admit that much--"

"Look here," He shoves back. "You don't know what you're talking about, so--"

"I know enough." I grab his wrist and twist it away from myself. "He lived with the same laws that you did, the same fear and reluctance, but he never behaved the way you have behaved."

He steps back. "You do love him. Don't you?"

I nod. "I do. If you want a chance at finding someone to love you, and maybe you don't, I don't know, but you need to get over yourself and these... hang-ups. Nothing will ever happen between you and I, and no change in your behaviour will alter that, but there are other men in this world who want what you want. Most of them don't want to be beaten or spit on or made to feel as though you're thinking it always."

He nods, hat now crushed between his fists, face red.

"I do not wish to be disturbed." I tell him, my hand on the knob.

"No. No, I'll just... go."

"If you ever need any counsel on the subject, my door is not open. The Medic can offer his services on that front, I believe it is a part of his duties."

"I can't talk to that bloody ex-Nazi about this!"

I smirk. "You might be surprised. At the very least, there is confidentiality to hide behind. And I do not think the good doctor was ever a member of the party. He does not quite seem the type..."

"Like you'd know."

"I would." I answer, stone-faced. "Granted, it's been twenty-four years."

"Oh. Right. Well. Going, then." He waves awkwardly and heads down the hall.

I lock myself in my room feeling unaccountably exhausted.

~~~Ch. 20~~~

Too much time passes, lonely months of the perpetually-freezing hell of Coldfront, but in January I return to Teufort, much of my current team intact. In what would be the depth of winter, the desert days look to be a blessing.

More than that, though, a return to my off-base lodgings, to my non-company-vetted mail. My heart is thundering high in my chest when I go to the post office, to give my made-up name and collect whatever mail has gathered in my absence.

There are five letters, all posted from the town near Doublecross. When I am safely locked away in my hotel room, I open the one I judge to be the oldest.

'I heard where you were at and I don't know when you'll even get this but I couldn't not write.' It says, with no preamble. I have never before been familiar with his handwriting, but somehow it could be no one else's. For that, it is dear to me.

'I don't know how to go about writing a love letter, either. I don't much write letters at all. I send postcards home, it's really not the same.

I miss you. Hasn't even been much time but knowing I'm not going to see you, knowing there's no telling how long, I guess it makes me miss you faster.

You know I love you, right? You know I do. I've said it, we both have, but you've got it in writing now, so that's something. I told you I wasn't any good at this...

Figured the name on the PO box was made-up. Half mine is, too. Not used to having that many aliases, reckon, because I didn't come up with a phony last name, but maybe that doesn't really matter.

Funny we never used our real names. Think I was half afraid to. Don't know why. Like saying them during the war would jinx things, except that's silly. Beyond silly.

I'm gonna miss you, until you're back with me. Love you'

For a long moment I just hold onto the letter, then I carefully open my room safe and place it inside. That done, I open the second.

'Don't know if this is some kind of breach of letter writing etiquette, but I couldn't wait, and no knowing when you'd be able to pick up the first one and write me back. Besides, this is important.

I've been warned off you. A lady came by with a letter from RED telling me not to look for you and not to try keeping secrets. The spy we've got over here-- well, you remember him-- he's baffled over it, because no one ought to know. He's even sniffed around the base and nobody here so much as suspects.

I told him there was another spy for RED who knew what was going on, but he'd be far away from me at least, if not from both of us, and it seemed odd he'd pick that kind of time to turn us in.

I won't say I'm not rattled by all this, but I love you dammit. That's got to mean something. Well it does to me, even if they got some girl telling me it shouldn't.

Just stay safe. I don't know what's going on, yet, but I will. This won't be forever.'

This letter leaves me numb. Warned off of me? If the first spy to learn our secret had no motivation and none of his current team had any idea...

Then someone from BLU went to RED. Higher up the corporate chain-- neither the soldier nor the scout who sold me out would do such a thing.

Professional courtesy? If our relationship had the potential to damage both sides, then it is a safeguard to BLU as well as a warning to RED, to inform them. Twice as many eyes with half the effort.

I open the next letter.

'I dreamed about you last night, I picked up a pen the second I woke up. I'm still half-groggy and my coffee hasn't kicked in yet, but I needed to write.

Don't even know what I was going to write you... to tell you I dreamed about you, I guess, but that's not strange or anything, I do all the time.

Reckon I don't often remember them so clear. It was so much like having you here it honestly hurt waking up to realize things were like this.

That's probably stupid. It's four in the morning, though, so you'll have to forgive me.

It wasn't even dirty, either, it was just you and me and little bits of old conversations we had and you were in my van and that's all it was.

Probably shouldn't have bothered writing, even. Maybe we'll be back together before you can even get this.

That's a lot to hope for, I know.

I'm just stupid and not awake yet. I love you, though.'

I place the second and third letters alongside the first, in the safe, and open the fourth.

'I don't know if it counts or anything, but today's what might've been our anniversary, I guess. It's been at least close to a year since.'

My hands shake when it comes time to open the fifth letter. It's the last one I have...

'I love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

I've run out of things to say, or I don't know how to write them, and fuck me if I haven't thought at least a hundred times of going AWOL to get to you, but maybe we're both lucky I've got one bloke on this team I can trust to talk me out of anything stupid, because that'd only land us both in worse trouble.

I miss you.

I don't know how else to say it. I miss having you in my arms, I miss having you in my bed, I miss the smell of your smokes and the way you laugh, really laugh, until you can't even pretend to be suave anymore and you sound like an idiot and you can't even breathe enough, I love that.

So, I think about you all the time. I think about how dumb I got, and maybe we both did, I don't know. New BLU Spy-- well, not so new anymore-- says it's probably my fault. Just because him and his guy have never been caught out.

I hope you get this. I hope you can tell me it won't be forever, before this all goes away and you and I can make a real honest go of it together. I've been thinking about it for so long I'm not even scared anymore. Well, I'm not paralyzed. I always used to think, being out in the open, hell, if it's not a death sentence it's still a record. So when this is over, I'll go with you, we'll live somewhere where that isn't true. I'm miserable enough now I ought to get to be happy sometime.'

I make a grab for the hotel stationery and write back, to all of them, even if he has moved on by now, even if we may meet again before he can ever reach his own mail. Still, I write back.

'When we see each other, we will talk. There will be so much catching up to do, and not all of it talking. Still, there are things I want to tell you, and things I do not want to tell you but they need to be told.

I like the name 'Mundy'. Someday I will learn the first name that goes with it.

I have not put my own name down on paper in too many years, and I still have some dread of it. When we are together, though, I promise, if you want to hear it, I will whisper my name in your ear, and every syllable will be the truth.

I am back in Teufort, after so long. I fear it will still be some time before I know where you are. If you were in Teufort, you would be at my door by now.

All of my best lines are in french, and I do think you would hesitate to ask your teammate for a translation, lest it be something too personal, so for now I suppose this is all. Just this, and I love you. A thousand times, I love you. With my heart entire, I love you. To the point of madness, I love you. I love you until I forget myself completely and I love you to the exclusion of all else, and if I (truly) died tomorrow, and the Lord in his infinite mercy offered me a seat in heaven (somewhat unlikelier even than my permanent death), I would instead choose to wander the earth a ghost for the rest of your natural lifetime, even if in the bargain I consigned myself ever after that to hell.

I will wait for you until there is no more need for waiting. And then, when I am yours, I promise there is no pleasure I would deny you, nothing I could deny you. Once I am with you again, all of me is yours, do with me as you will please, and I will be pleased as well.

Je vis d'amour et d'eau douce.'

Hm. Well, at least that is nothing embarrassing to ask a translation of, if he even felt he needed one for a signing-off.

I very carefully daub the envelope with aftershave, just at the corners, and once it is perfectly dry, I seal the letter inside. With my own letters locked secure inside my safe, I go at once to post his.

Sniper's letters are adorable.

I live in love and freshwater.
bad translation? lol anyway, that was so cute!

Oh my heart. I am alternately sighing at the lovely romance and at the same tie soooo sad for them!! Anne, you are a master of heartstring tugging.

>>72 I read that as I live for love and sweet water .
I should have really payed more attention in French class

Okay, so I know I'm commenting AGAIN, but I was still groggy my first comment, and I needed to comment again, okay??

Just...Sniper's letters. I love. But Spy's reply back just makes me sigh in longing. It's so very *French*, and by that, I mean the kind of romance that seems to only be respectable in French culture. ...Or Shakespearean sonnets.

"I will wait for you until there is no more need for waiting." = TEARS. Just...guh, my poor heart. Spy's poor heart, and Sniper's too.

So invested in this story!!! I shall now set up a tent and proceed to camp until tomorrow morning.

I want to draw fanart for that last chapter so badly.

So, so, so badly.

>>72
>>74

'I live on love and fresh water', basically meaning 'love (and water) is all I need to survive', and one of those things you can really only say in French without sounding strange.

>>71
>>73/75

I liked writing the letters (so I'm glad other people liked them!) because I love both Sniper's awkward, self-deprecating 'I have never written a love letter' missives, and Spy's oh-so-French 'writing the proper letter (or improper one) is an integral part of a gentleman's education' right-word-for-everything approach.

>>76
I would also love for you to draw fanart so, so, so badly. (I would love you forever! Just link here if you do it so I can't miss it)

~~~Ch. 21~~~

I recognize a few of my enemies, over the course of the week. Some are the same men from Coldfront, though like our team, not entirely.

The only replacements we have taken are a different Scout and a different Sniper. I am acquainted with neither, and I am honestly somewhat relieved, in the Sniper's case. Even with amends made on Coldfront, I would be more comfortable not to be stationed with that one.

This one stares at me every so often, but it is never for long, and it is never with any malice or lust that I can ascertain. Wednesday when the teams break for a quick lunch, I do find myself beside him in the mess area.

"Can't quite figure if I know you or not." He shakes his head at me. "Seems I can't tell anyone in a mask apart, so... sorry if I seemed rude or anything, just didn't know if you were from Granary or Hydro or Pipeline."

"No." I smile politely. "None of those. I think we can safely say I am a stranger to you."

"Right. Well, you seem decent enough. So I suppose I should've known you weren't from Hydro."

I laugh, just enough to be polite, and then he easily goes his way and I mine. I eat alone-- at lunch, it is easier. There is little time for a leisurely talk during the midday meal, and that is of course a travesty, but best to be able to rush back out onto the field without having to awkwardly leave a conversation.

The Engineer and his secret ladyfriend eat together, of course, but she is often enough guarding his buildings from my opposite number, that they could finish any lunchtime conversation over a roaring fire and a dispenser later.

The Soldier is moody, and does not even express this by shouting at the rest of us. The new Scout is perhaps taking some advantage of this fact, to get away with the sort of behaviour normally deemed 'insubordinate'.

The Heavy and the Medic are as they ever were. The Demoman is, during lunch, sober enough, but that will change. It always changes, by the end of the day. He takes deep swigs between setting his traps or taking his grenades on the offense, and like most of his class, it never greatly affects his abilities.

And me...

I survive.

I survive-- with short breaks-- through Thursday and Friday as well. My spirits are a little higher than they had been, before coming here.

I am surprised, on Saturday, when my perfunctory stop by the post office sends me to my hotel with another letter.

'They only moved me far as Yukon! It's on the other side of that town out past Doublecross. The drive's longer, but I got your letter. Read it about five times before I even started writing back. Probably read it a half dozen more once I finish.

If that wasn't your best lines there, boy, I'd love to see what you think are. And you can whisper your name to me anytime you like. I'd like to know it, one of these days.

I don't know how long I'll be here-- they told us when they sent us in it was only a temporary assignment-- more temporary than usual, I guess they meant-- while something or other gets mussed about with. I don't understand it, something went down on another base and now we got two whole teams on either side here, and I might be the one they ship off once it's all clear.

Well, I don't know, but since they wouldn't be sending me to Teufort anyway, I hope they keep me around here. I could at least get your letters.

Miss you something fierce and love you something worse.

'Til then.'

I smile like an idiot for hours, but at least no one is there to see me.

I write back as well, though my attempts at translating anything truly beautiful into English are painful. There is no poetry to it, and I'm afraid the cultural differences might not let things carry well. Well, it is still a letter, anyway.

I float through the rest of the weekend feeling even better than I had going into it.

Their letters make me "d'aaw" and smile like an idiot. The temptation to post a smiley face is great, but I shall not give in.

~~~Ch. 22~~~

It is midweek when the reason for the Soldier's moodiness of late becomes clear. Midweek, when he makes amends with the RED Demoman he had once known. And on Thursday morning, just like that, we are all pulled away from Teufort, before I can even write another letter to explain the move.

I cannot mourn long, we are moved right into a working week at Granary. The Engineer, I think, noticed my melancholy in the resupply, but there was no time to really speak, before the start of the round, beyond a general wishing of good luck, a few motivational cries as we all rush the field.

I have never been stationed at Granary before, and the short film they showed us before sending us out to fight was little help to me. I wind up separated from my team right out of the gate, but at least I am invisible, if I run into any of the enemy.

Then I see it, the little red dot sweeping over the wall of one of the buildings, not far from my position. Well, whoever they have in that tower, I will be able to remove him, perhaps before he can sight any of my teammates.

I make my way up the winding ramp as slowly as possible, I stop entirely once to let my cloak recharge, but I reach the top without making a sound.

At first, I do not believe my own eyes, but the hands on that rifle I would not mistake for any other man's, the way he holds himself, the little things like the wear on his hat and vest, worn spots and notches and old stains.

I creep closer, still silent, and reach forward to brush my fingertips across his cheek. He turns with a gasp and I uncloak. The instant we are face to face, we are dragging each other into the corner, weapons forgotten. The fight has not yet reached this far, we will have at least a moment.

"I thought you were in Teufort!"

"So did I. You were at Yukon!"

"I was one of the ones they moved out. How are you-- No. No time. My van, later. Your turn..."

"No." I shake my head. "We start over, please."

He smiles at me like he cannot help it, and maybe he can't. The flat of his kukri slides up my side. "Same time, then?"

I trace the tip of my knife lightly along his skin, his jawline and down the side of his throat, and I watch him breathe hard and swallow at the touch.

"The same time." I agree. I bring my arm around him, the point of my knife between his shoulderblades, and I can feel the kukri at the ready now as our lips meet.

"I still have all your letters under my mattress." He whispers.

"Yours are in a safe back in Teufort."

"A safe?" He smiles.

"It came to my attention that we could not be too careful."

One hand cups my face, one of mine curves about the side of his neck. My thumb rests across his throat, and perhaps if anyone comes across our bodies, it will look more violent than tender.

The countdown is unspoken. His eyes burn into mine, mine to his. We hit home at the same time, and then all is bright light and the buzzing little pains of respawn.

This makes me so happy you would not believe

I am sitting here flailing in happiness and my roommate is looking at me oddly.

Aaaaand I burst into tears on my lunchbreak. I regret nothing!! Thank you, Anne. This is wonderful!

Eeeeeeeeeeee, update. Yay!

Thanks so much, you guys. (Erg, realizing just how short the last chapter was! It felt so much longer when I was agonizing over writing it properly that I never paid attention to the word count...)

~~~Ch. 23~~~

I wait until well after dark, until I have observed from the cloak of shadows and the watch all my teammates turning in for the night. I make my way out to my Sniper's van then, sure that none of my colleagues have had chance to observe me.

His door is open. He is on the bed, boots and shirt off, and I suspect the book in his hand he is only pretending to read. I close the camper door behind me, and he places the book on his nightstand. His arm reaches out to me before I am even visible.

"I never want to be without you so long again," I fall into his arms to be kissed, held. After kissing me, he lays his head upon my shoulder, content within the circle of my arms.

It is strange, most of the time we fall into the opposite position-- not that I consider myself to be very passive, I would certainly never call myself womanly, but he is taller and he is unused to sleeping with men, so if I spend more time tucked up against him, it's never felt anything but natural...

This, though... This, I like. The feeling is different. There is a weight of responsibility I am unused to. The odd thought that I should be the protector now somehow. Silly to think of it as being that simple, but then again, I know I've let myself feel too secure resting on him...

"Missed you, something awful. Just awful." He mutters, words smothering themselves into my collarbone, and I stroke his hair.

"I will be more careful. They are not coordinating so carefully now, if no one knows we are together. Only a few of my teammates now were there at Doublecross, even then they may not recognize you."

"I'm with a completely different team. Which ones, on your side?"

"The Heavy, the Engineer-- I hope that I can call him a friend, but I am not so foolish as to tell him we have been reunited. The Pyro, but... about the Pyro I know a secret as well. I am hesitant to use it, I doubt I will need to, but... Now it is only the three. And... and they do not really know you. They are not the ones who turned me in, those men are elsewhere."

"Not sure what I think of that." He lifts his head. "I'd've liked to take a few good shots at those bastards. Do you know who?"

"The Soldier wanted me gone the most. The Scout thought you attacked me, but he was not hard to convince, to give testimony. And... And the BLU Sniper stationed there..." I frown.

"What about him?"

"He followed me to Coldfront. He said to keep an eye on me in case I-- I thought because he hated me."

"... Spy?" His hand closes over my shoulder, warm.

"He tried to kiss me. I hit him. He apologized, eventually he did. It seemed sincere enough, but I am just as glad not to have to see him anymore."

The hand on my shoulder tightens. "Damn, well I really wish I could kill him."

"I hit him." I repeat.

"Course you did." His lips brush my cheek. "Course you did."

"I hit him."

"I know."

"He is not like you, not really. I hit him."

"Sweetheart, I know. I believe you, you don't got to promise me anything, I know."

I hold fast to him, press my cheek to his and turn so that I can breathe in deep the scent of the sweat in his hair, just up behind one ear. "I hit him."

"C'mere. Of course. I'd still put a few bullets in his brain for bothering ya."

"You don't have to, I hit him, he is gone, I..."

"I know."

"I never wanted him. Not even for a moment."

"I know. Saw the sad bastard in my scope a few times, remember?" He pulls back, cracks a smile at me. "I know I'm more handsome'n he is."

"You are a better man in every way." I laugh.

"Dominated him enough times, too."

"In every way. I just assume in the ways I have no proof of as well. I may be biased..."

He loosens my tie. "I don't mind if you are."

We stretch out on the bed together, he strips me of everything, I wrest him out of the rest of his things, and then...

"I missed all of this." I trace the line that cuts across his abdomen, the old knife fight, my thumb following its path across his skin.

"What, this sad ol' sack?"

"Yes." I outline the scars on his shoulder, then I merely feel out the sinewy muscle and the ridges of bone where covering flesh is thin, feel all of him. "So much."

"I missed you, too." He gets his hands full of me, pulls me to lie atop him.

A little wriggling has us lined up perfectly, and I kiss him greedily as his grip on my hips keep us in rhythm, sliding against one another. He breaks the kiss to spit into his palm, to reach down between our bodies and wet us, and the slide is a little easier. By the time that wears away, there is sweat. On my back it cools quickly in the dry and chilly night, but between us everything is damp heat.

I feel frantic, feel too-hungry, and he bites at my lip and sucks at my tongue and one of his hands squeezes my ass, fingers parting the cheeks.

"I want you inside me," I gasp.

"Too close," He shakes his head, loose, his head merely flopping to the side. "I'm too close."

"Oui, d'accord, I need to come, soon, but I want you in me," I pull away from him, enough to keep from bringing us both off too fast. "Tell me... tell me you still have what you need? Fuck me?"

"O-okay." He kisses me again, before I roll off of him and he digs through his nightstand.

Once he is in me, neither of us last long, but once he is in me, neither of us needs to.

He smokes half my cigarette after, smiling lazily at me, with my hand in his and his blanket pulled up to almost cover us.

"I even missed these." He admits, blowing a lungful of smoke to the ceiling of the camper. "Never thought I'd get used to 'em first smoke I bummed off you, now look at me."

"I cannot stop looking at you." I stroke his cheek, then his chest. "I wish that I could stay longer. The Scout and the Soldier are early risers, I cannot risk them catching me as their predecessors have."

"Yeah. Yeah, reckon. I should be careful, too. Don't got anyone protecting me now."

I kiss him, and find myself smiling in spite of the parting. "I hope they are still stationed together, then. The other spies. I feel generous. Everyone ought to be happy, as long as I am."

He laughs, and does not release my hand even when I get out of bed. He kisses my knuckles before he lets me go, and his eyes are on me while I dress, with the same wolfish look of a man watching his lover striptease.

I could try that, some time... if he is this intent on watching my hands fasten buttons and tie my tie, I'm sure I could slow down the reverse in future and get no complaints...

I make it back to the base and see no one stirring. As much as I would have liked a few more minutes in my lover's company, I am glad of that security.

And... while we are both at Granary, we will have other nights.

So. Much. Joy!

I fall into his arms to be kissed, held. After kissing me, he lays his head upon my shoulder, content within the circle of my arms.

This line is a little confusing. Spy is being held, Sniper is in Spy's arms? It's possible they are hugging each other, but the next paragraph explicitly says that Spy is the one in the typical male position.

Pity the 2 Spies and the BLU Sniper are gone. I like your Spy and Sniper, but your secondary characters are very interesting as well and offered more varied character interactions.

Speaking of secondary characters... It has been a while and nobody has claimed my prompt about the shell-shocked Spy, that prompt I posted in this thread (>>14 and >>20) and in the previous now-autosaged Request Thread. Would you consider writing it? I had asked your permission to take the general idea, but the character himself is yours in the first place.

This chapter has given me a ferocious lady boner. Unf.

Why does that last line leave me feeling nervous, oh why??

I love the switch in who needs comfort more. By having Sniper be the one to snuggle up against Spy, I thought it communicated rather elegantly what we never got to see; Sniper's side of having his lover suddenly gone. We know the pain that Spy went through, and after Sniper's letters, we know he had a rough go of it as well, but the fact that he reversed their usual speaks to me of desperately needing comfort, security... Of wanting to feel totally that Spy is back with him. And it makes me tear up.

Never stop writing, bitte.

Thanks so much, all!

>>86

Oops, that did turn out kind of confusing... I should have transitioned better. I meant for an initial clinging-pretty-equally-to-each-other turning into Spy holding Sniper after the kiss, but yeah... that could have been communicated more effectively... (And while they've moved on from this fic, I don't think I'm done writing about some of those supporting players... Think I'll have to pick up that shell-shocked Spy prompt, definitely.)

>>88

This time, I promise I'm not foreshadowing something terrible (well, not anything very terrible). Glad you liked the positioning change-up there, too.

~~~Ch. 24~~~

The Engineer stops me after the last round on Friday, the others moving on to shower off or find dinner without us.

"I was a bit worried the other morning... seemed like you weren't happy with the move, but... guess that's all cleared up?"

"Well," I hesitate. "They moved us early in the morning before the fight, instead of between working days, it was unusual. And, Teufort is where I--"

"Take your mail, that's right. Anyway, you seem... settled in."

"Very well, thank you. I am perfectly content. I do not receive too much mail, anyway, that cannot be delivered through our employers."

"Spy..."

I cringe inwardly, though I make no show of it. With the goggles on, I cannot see his eyes at all, only imagine that they look through me. I place a hand on his shoulder. "You are a good friend, and as you know I have not had many. There are few men I would regret lying to, you are in that select company. So please, do not ask me any questions I might have to lie to answer."

"Wasn't planning to. Change in mood's just a bit of a surprise. Yesterday morning you look like death warmed over, today you head out onto the field with the kind of spring in your step only a few things cause, though..."

"I had a productive day on the field Thursday. A few unexpected victories can change a man's outlook."

"Promise me he's someone on our team this time, at least, and I won't pry."

"It isn't like that." I frown.

"Sit down." He takes a seat on the bench in the supply room and stares across at the wall, and after a moment, I do the same. "Gonna tell you a story I haven't told many folks, and then you're gonna tell me the truth. And not just the truth I already figured out."

"I'm sure you've figured out quite a bit." I shrug.

"My best friend growing up killed himself. Nobody knows that, excepting the folks who knew us both back then."

I do not know what to say. "I am sorry."

"He jumped off a bridge."

I wince, and perhaps I gasp. "I am incredibly sorry."

"He'd been rejected, and... guess he felt he had no choice,"

"Ah, yes... young love is always a matter of life-and-death... I am sure many young men who would have thought better make too hasty a mistake when the sting is fresh."

The Engineer shakes his head. "News spread fast. On both counts, so some people heard the one first and some people heard the other."

"What happened to the girl who rejected him?"

"Boy. And he wasn't sorry to hear about it. And thing was, before... Before I knew, hell, I was bad as anybody. I spouted off all the same things I heard because I never knew better, and if I hadn't, he might've known he could've come to me. He could've been... been not alone in the world. Could've lived, at least. Well, maybe. And that's why I don't care what you do with yourself, long as it doesn't hurt the team. But you jumped off a bridge once, too,"

"I am sorry, I--"

"And I wasn't the only one to find you. And I stood up for you when they moved us, and I'd hate regretting it. So tell me whoever it is putting a spring in your step this time is on the right side."

"Right side." I snort. "Do you believe that?"

"Well, I believe there's a side that's paying the both of us, and more'n a couple other folks I come to care for."

"I have a lover. It has nothing to do with the war. My contract will come up, in only a matter of months now. It is two months. If you cannot abide the thought that I may be in this sort of relationship, then I will not renew that contract, but give me those months."

"Spy--"

"Please. Have I not kept a dangerous secret for your love? A secret you would not even have learned without me, at least not so quickly. Please, do not think I am threatening you when I bring it up. Only reminding you. Please. Two months, and if you are opposed to the idea, I will be gone when my contract is up."

He slumps back against the wall. "I really don't like it. You get caught again, I can't keep sticking my neck out."

"I will not be. And I will not ask you to. Two months of your silence, for as long a time as you need of mine."

"You can't tell a soul about her. I-- I worry, you know. If any of the others knew, even on our own team. I just worry."

"I cannot blame you." I stand and turn to face him, my hand once more on his shoulder. "And as I said, you have my silence."

"Guess you got mine. If you can keep your business separate from your pleasure... Hell, you're a good man to have out there, rather not see you disappear at the end of just two months." He smiles, and it is weak and watery but true.

I do the same. "We shall see, then, we shall see. Thank you, for your understanding."

"Well... doesn't cost me much to be understanding, I guess."

Perhaps it is so, perhaps understanding costs nothing, but it is still a rare commodity...

That night, when I watch my teammates turn in, the Heavy and the Medic are not the only two to pair off when doors are locked.

"Bon chance," I whisper, in the direction of the Engineer's workshop, where there is a line of light under the door, the sound of a radio and shadows cast by a couple dancing slow. "And it took you long enough."

Well, perhaps he is more of a gentleman than I. In any case, with the base all quiet, I am free to slip away once more.

I always want to comment and then never do, but I am doing it now. Normally Spy is not really my cup of tea to follow (same with first person POV) but I keep checking this series on and off and I am growing rather attached to him and Sniper.

And I must confess I am totally in love with your Eng - stout and yet understanding, kind but firm, and a southern gentleman at heart. Ahh.

Minor thing: 'chance' is a feminine noun in French so you would use 'bonne chance'. But very minor error and your French has been very good throughout your writing.

(Captcha says 'Titcomb', which... yeah. Good job, Captcha.)

>>90
Thank you! Hey, glad I could get you to read something you normally wouldn't, I'm flattered. (And I'm glad you're loving this Engineer, because guh, every time he finds his way into this fic I wind up loving him more myself... and I've been trying to walk the fine line of having him remain an ally but not a pushover or a completely blind eye)

And d'oh... the time I don't check the gender of a noun, I go and get it wrong... Well, good to know I'm still mostly all right even though I've now gone about nine years since my last French class... I'll try to remember-- or at least, to remember to always look up a noun's gender if I'm not used to writing it!

~~~Ch. 25~~~

As the months that follow go by, we do remain more careful. If the way to his van is clear, I visit more frequently and do not stay as long, if we wind up on bases where it is too difficult to meet, we see each other on the weekends only, and pretend to be strangers to each other until we are alone.

As the months that follow turn to years, we are not always opposite each other on the battlefield, but rarely are we apart for too long.

We are both at Pipeline, after the most recent separation, and our reunion is... not the same. He is as sweet and as fervent when he kisses me, his hands are just as sure when they are on my body, but there in the moment when we are not completely wrapped in each other, he is unhappy.

I pull him onto his bed and hold him, and when the tension and worry does not bleed away no matter how I try to soothe, I ask.

"What is bothering you that even having me again will not fix?"

"My contract's back up in a little while now."

"You want us to quit this all?" I still. It is not as though I had never contemplated it, of course. I had been willing, the last time my own contract was up for negotiation, to leave this war. Certainly we are at a point where we may... may want to start a life together, far from all of this madness. I had been willing, but the two of us had never spoken of it. The war was what introduced us, after all. The war was what we had in our lives. We have never before discussed having something more instead.

"No. No, I'm not asking you to quit. I'm saying... I'm saying, it's-- it's a young man's game, isn't it? And maybe... maybe I'm not so young anymore."

"Who is?" I laugh. "So you are having a mid-life crisis. Shoot some people, and then use your hefty paycheck for shooting those men to buy yourself something impractical, and then have wild sex with someone attractive and French."

He does not crack a smile at that.

"Cher?" I stroke his cheek.

"It's my eyes."

"Oh..."

"I've got a good scope and I figure I can sit out the end of my contract just fine, but... But I can tell the difference, without the scope my sight's not what it used to be. I'm not gonna hang on getting sadder, getting worse at my job. In about six weeks now, I... I'm retiring, while my record's still good."

"War is a younger man's game. Before coming here, I was at Sawmill. My shoulder hurt all the time, from the rain. It had never done that before... And, it was not bad, certainly, but I could still feel it. You know, the rumour mill has it BLU has recently brought on a couple of new spies. I know one of my old colleagues has already taken a desk job and now he is never in the field. I... even if I do not retire when you do, there is no reason for me to continue to run around, to dirty my hands. If you are retiring, if you are really retiring, then..."

"Then you want to come with me?" He smiles now.

"Come with you?" I snort. "Take you! Take you, to France!"

"Sure." He kisses me, just on the cheek. "Guess I'd like that well as anyplace."

"As well as anyplace, please. The most beautiful countrysides in the world, and you say it is as well as anyplace. We... we could, you know. We could live there."

"Think you've mentioned."

"Have I? I didn't think we'd discussed it."

"Well, I guess nothing concrete, but sometimes you go on."

"Oh?"

"And I let you."

"You let me?"

"I like listening to you when you go on." He shrugs. "I guess we never planned it... I guess-- respawn kept me so young for my age I thought I might never... And I mean, I thought about glasses, but... ah, without any tint to 'em, they'd still be useless to me, and... And I don't mind retiring, if you think you want to make some concrete-type plans about our future outside of this war."

"Nothing would make me happier." I promise him. "Nothing would make me happier."

~FIN~

As happy as I am to see a happy ending (even though I knew it was coming), I'm sad to know it's over. I hope you have more things in the work!

“It’s my eyes”

I had the biggest ‘Aww’ moment there. I’m sad to see this fic over but it just ended so well

I almost can't believe this story is finished. You've taken it on such wonderful twists, and with such attention to character, that I can't but thank you again and again for writing it. "Mercy" and all of its companion tales will continue to be my favourite fiction-verse of this pair for a long time coming.

Thank you, Anne.

Almost never comment, but, well, had to, for this one.

But, wow, I actually read the Defiant Ones way back when and lurked on your lj, but could never work up the nerve to actually say how much I loved it. So consider this comment filled with the thousands of hearts and smiley faces I'd wanted to type earlier, even though it'd be 'underage' of me to do so. Anyway, thank you so, so much for writing this, can't wait to read more of your wonderful work!

Captcha says: Lord artheoi. Don't know about that last one, but this work is definitely 'lordly'.

Your writing always throws me into emotional loops. This actually managed to drag me out of a bit of a depressed slump. Thank you very much.

Thanks so much, everyone. Y'all are too sweet to me.

>>96
That is the nicest thing I could hear. I am very happy to have done something to help somebody be less depressed. (especially since I usually look to fandom to keep me from being too depressed when I start slumping)