A/N: Set within the same general ficverse as 'Mercy', taking place between the main events of the fic and the retirement epilogue, and sort of broadening the focus to look at a few other mercenaries. Spy POV this time around. ~~~Ch. 1~~~ When the announcement came, I did not wait for the weekend-- I could not, of course. We got the news on Wednesday night, giving us enough time, I suppose, to make the necessary calls to settle any affairs in town or between each other. After the meeting, I rushed to my Sniper's van. It was some time before he came trudging out. "You as well?" I whisper, as soon as he is near enough. He nods and opens the door to me. "It seems as though we have not been in Teufort so long." I say, helpless. It is something of a break from the usual rotation, anyway. But none of us are being told ahead of time where we will end up, or who with. We are not assured the same teammates, or the same enemies. A new safeguard against friendship. Even among our own teams, too much closeness is not smiled upon... "We've got tonight and tomorrow. Dunno 'bout you, but we're moving out Friday night." "Moi aussi." I draw him near. "But on the weekend, we will be... wherever it is we are supposed to be. If there is a town near enough, then we will go there, to the bar. There is always a bar, if there is ever a town near the bases. If there are two, go to the nicer one, I will choose the nicer of two places. If we see each other, then we were sent to the same place. If not... You will be back in my orbit someday. But I hope that we are not parted long." "Look for you in the nearest, nicest bar. Gotcha." He kisses my neck, through the thin fabric of the balaclava, before sliding it up to nibble at my skin. We took luxuries we did not have in making love to each other that night, time we could not afford to spend in whispered sweet nothings and soft, slow touches. We spent it regardless. On Thursday night, I begged him to fuck me hard and fast. I did not leave his van until the last moments before night faded into dawn. And on Friday night... On Friday night I found myself teleported to a room of slate concrete and cool gray steel, with furniture of sleek chrome and black leather, and the company of a handful of men, all spies for BLU. There are not many of us. I know for a fact that when the teams must be rearranged, the soldiers spill over into three rooms twice this size. Scouts are also plentiful, and Pyros. Even the Medics there are more of. It seems we spies, though, are a rare breed. All of us are masked, and beneath those, we could be at a glance identical. None of are well-acquainted, but we all know each other, if only from waiting room such as this, before our separate assignments from BLU. Two of my fellow spies are already in one corner, speaking animatedly. Rare to see our class so friendly, or so I always thought. A third stands, gazing through the window we have onto a larger room below-- the room where they are organizing the Engineers. He does not seem focused, more lost in thought. The last of our group approaches me. "I see we are all here, then." He nods to me, smile tight. "I thought we had one more." "Had being the operative term. Respawn... it does not always work well, not in all environs. We have suffered glitches. Between you and I, we shall likely be down another soon." He inclines his head towards the window-gazer. "Why would you think?" "Combat fatigue, as near as I can tell. He greeted us when he arrived, but for the most part, he stands there and stares. From what I have heard, that is how he always is. Whether he is let go permanently or given some sort of rest and re-education training, I could not say. But, I have heard the whispers from on high. They cannot keep sending him into the field as he is. It is difficult to find new spies, though." "Of course. We do try to set a standard." He smiles and wanders off, to try engaging the shell shocked gentleman at the window. One of the others drifts over to me after that-- rather, to take the empty seat near mine. He acknowledges me with a weary smile before lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag. "You are not looking forward to the move, either?" "No." I admit. "Not really. I was comfortable with teams as they were, I suppose. Not friendly with my teammates, but comfortable." "I as well. Still... There's a chance, isn't there? The teams will not be the same, but... There's a chance, that one or two might be-- might get sent to the same place. If it is all done randomly." I laugh. "You have taken a lover, then?" His mouth forms a hard line, his eyes slide away from mine. A blush has crept in from below the edge of his mask. "As I said, I am... comfortable, knowing the men that I already know." "They should have provided us something to drink. We could toast to it." I relax a little. "We can but hope, mon ami. And what sort of man is he?" "It is not important. It-- It is exactly the sort of thing these moves are put in place to prevent, anyhow. He is just a man. One who was attractive and amenable, but it is hardly the end of the world if we are not stationed together." "I am the last man you have to lie to." I shake my head. "Besides, I am sure that, with the war being the way it so often is, many men have sought out... amenable partners." He sighs. "He is more than amenable, then. And yours?" "A Sniper." I shrug, only surprised that he is surprised. "Is that so terrible?" "I don't know about the Sniper you were stationed with, but the one on my last team threw his own piss at people. I wouldn't sleep with that." "I got used to him." I chuckle. "I suppose your tastes are so much more refined?" "Only the most refined. Anyway, as I said, it isn't important." In the grand scheme of things, it isn't-- the door opens before any more can be said, admitting a young woman with a clipboard. "Number Eleven," She calls out, her voice carries clearly through the whole room. I wonder at why we have a number eleven, when there are only five of us here... the numbers, I suppose, are assigned randomly. The gossip stands at attention, abandoning his conversation with the loudest and friendliest of our number-- the man he had moved onto after failing to get much out of the window-watcher. "You'll be stationed at our base out near Teufort." "I'm familiar." He nods. "Report to the teleport room, you'll soon find yourself with your new team. Number Four." The spy next to me rises. "Four." "Coldfront. After you meet your new team, there will be an orientation for anyone unfamiliar with the area. Number Two." That would be me. I stand. At least I have dodged Coldfront... it sounds unpleasant. "Present." "Doublecross." She says. "Very good." I nod. I hear her call for number seven, as I leave the room to report to be teleported. The men who assemble at Doublecross with me are not familiar, to me or to each other for the greater part. The Sniper gives me a once over and dismisses me, the Scout ignores me completely but immediately begins talking up a storm at the Engineer. The Medic and the Heavy will not even look at each other, which is so out of line with every other Heavy and Medic I had seen in this war that I do not know whether to be amused or shaken by the turn. "If you never worked this base before," The Engineer announces, hushing the Scout. "You'll want to get used to the schedule, it'll be backwards from what you're used to. Monday night we get to work." I am happy enough to work at night. I am not happy to think it will be impossible to reach the other side during the day, if it is my Sniper who is stationed across the bridge. If the town is near enough, though, we might meet there in the day... I hurry to catch the Engineer. "You have worked Doublecross before?" "Couple-few times." He nods to me. "How near is the town?" "Store's about five miles down a bad road. Town proper's a little further out. The real general store's in town, course, but the close one's got mailboxes for rent and you can buy smokes there. Take it you smoke. Never met a spy who didn't." "I do, yes. Thank you. I think tomorrow I will go into town, just to... get to know the place." "Well, shoot, I can drop you. I gotta hit the hardware store and the library, long as I'm here. Saturday's good a day as any to do it." "Thank you, that will be fine. I assume there is a bar or something like that, where one could... gauge the locals, learn a bit about the general area." "There's the Tap Room. Don't know if it's your speed, but if you want to 'gauge the locals'..." He laughs. "All the times I been through this place, I never seen it closed. Least it don't get rowdy 'til after dark, so that won't be a problem for ya." He heads off, to secure his workspace, I suppose. The others are all headed for their own places on the base. It is not too hard to find mine. I do not sleep easy, not knowing whether or not my Sniper and I will meet. At least I sleep...
Anne, I've said this several times, but it's always worth repeating that I love your writing. Thank you so much for sticking around and writing wonderful things for us.
i...will be watching this closely.
I'm glad you are expanding the Mercy Universe. As enjoyable as Mercy Redux is, it's still a different pov of the very same events. Here we have NEW events, I'm curious to see what will happen next. Normally I tend to avoid fics that feature extra teams (in my personal head-canon, there is one RED team and one BLU team, and both of them have exactly 9 people each), but in this case the existence of other teams is such an excellent source of drama and conflict that I can't help liking it, I'm really looking forward to the next chapter. And anyway, accoding to the retirement epilogue, the characters still occasionally write to their old teammates, that's enough to make my head-canon happy. I wonder if the nice Engineer is Four's lover.
Aww, thanks, you guys. >>4 At some point my headcanon view expanded to include a limited number of most classes (and the veritable Zerg-rush of Soldiers we sometimes see in the Valve videos)... I have a ridiculous amount invested in the ones I never even write about, just mentally. I have lists of names I imagine some of them have, or how various members of any given class are different despite looking identical to any outside view... I might spend way too much time thinking about this stuff. (But I do really like to think that those who manage to stay on teams together for a long time without being switched around definitely develop close bonds) (Actually, nice Engineer is platonically close to the shell-shocked Spy. I hadn't yet introduced Four's lover... but I can promise refinement. If I can write the scene so that I like it, I kind of want to use said nice Engineer to explore the idea of combat fatigue/PTSD in a universe where combatants (almost) never die...) ~~~Ch. 2~~~ The Tap Room, as it turns out, is... Well, it is quite the gauge for the locals, that at least is true. During the day, it is home to depressing drunks-- a heavily bearded man who mumbles to himself, a man who looks like an unemployable ex-farmhand, a dead-eyed woman... The BLU Demoman arrives shortly after I do-- I look up expectantly when the door swings open, but it is only him. There are two of his class that I have worked with more than once or twice, but he is not one of them. He nods to me, but thankfully he is not keen to socialize with me. The door swings open again, again my heart flies into my mouth. Again I am disappointed, this time by my own opposite number. In the instant that our eyes meet, I can see his expression go from pleased to guarded, and after a long moment he leans against the bar not far from me. "I don't believe we are acquainted." "I don't believe so." I nod to him. "So you are BLU's man at Doublecross now... Well, I suppose we will wind up acquainted. In a manner of speaking." He snorts. "I hope you will be a worthy opponent, at least." "I hope I will be as well." I am served, and raise my glass to him. "Have you been at Doublecross long?" "No, I was at Gravel Pit. You?" "Teufort. Before that, my team did a stint at Thunder Mountain." "Teufort. How banal... I do not think I have ever been at Thunder Mountain. Exciting?" "I would not really know. I spent much of my time there inside a refrigerator." I shrug. He laughs. "Also banal, I take it." "Terribly. Removed from civilization." "They always are." He turns to the barman. "Muscatel would be too much to hope, I imagine?" The barman says nothing. "A martini, then." He sighs, disgusted. "What did I tell you? Completely removed from civilization." The door opens again, and this time it is my Sniper. He approaches, looks between the two of us warily. "Making friends?" "Perhaps you would not understand, bushman," The RED Spy says, shooting a withering look down his nose. "But there is no reason why a civilized man should not behave in a civilized manner when confronted with his enemy. Or I suppose you could just douse them in urine." My Sniper shrugs. "Sure there are worse things to be doused in. Lighter fluid." I laugh, much to the other Spy's surprise. "So. Bustling metropolis here, yeah." He takes the stool next to where I stand, leaning back against the bar, his legs sprawling out so that one knee touches my elbow. "It is not quite so provincial as Teufort, no." I smile. "What will you drink?" "You know me." I roll my eyes. "Very well. Bartender, this man will drink whatever cheap beer you have lying around with little complaint." "Now that's not nice." He swats lazily at me. "Or true. Long as I'm in town, I'll take the best they've got. Anyway, I'm buying this round." "You know each other." The RED Spy's expression is unreadable. "When we're not stabbing each other, he tries to rob me at the card table, yeah. Sorry, what was that you were saying about civilized men before?" "Well." He takes his martini and stares into it a long moment. "Of course I did not think the system would be foolproof. Are you friends with many of your old enemies off the field, Monsieur Sniper?" "I don't believe in holding a grudge off the clock." "No, nor I. Honestly, when I did not know any of my current allies, I-- almost-- hoped I might at least see a familiar enemy. Well. You mentioned the card table, perhaps we will get to know each other over the poker game. I understand it was a regular activity at Granary-- where our Heavy was of late." "Sure. Maybe. If I'm not off on my lonesome." Sniper nods, smiles. He digs a bill out of his vest to pay for the beer when it comes, and I watch him take a long pull of it. We stay in the bar a while longer-- long enough for us both to finish our drinks, and long enough for his teammate to depart. The other Spy's demeanor is still impenetrable, but no warning bells went off. He just has a strange disconnect about him... his first time being traded to a new team, perhaps, though that only makes sense if he was close to his old team, and that is unlikely... Perhaps just a different style of poker face, in which case it is commendable. I cannot figure him out. We sneak out, when we are able, vanish down an alley-- literally, in my case-- to reach his van. "I was so afraid it wouldn't be you," He slams the camper door shut behind us and begins tearing at my clothes. "I went crazy each time someone in that bar was not you," I admit, struggling to do away with his shirt. "We won't be so lucky every time, if they shake us up like this often." He cradles my head and kisses me, the kind of kiss that sends heat curling through the belly and weakens the knees. "Maybe the experiment will not work and they will abandon it. There is a good chance our Heavy and Medic will refuse to work with each other, did you know that? Because the Heavy says, this is not his doctor, the Medic says he cannot work with this Heavy and he thinks he will just follow a Soldier around instead... If it like this on all the teams, then the arrangement is a disaster," "For same teams, maybe. But there's no reason not to send us out against different people." He slips my balaclava off. "I just-- I don't want that. But I can't just sit here and think it's always gonna go so good for us." "I have a post box in Teufort, along with the hotel, outside of BLU's aegis. If I am stationed anywhere near there, I will be able to at least check for messages on my weekends, even if I cannot stay long in the hotel. If we are separated, you could try to write. Even if it is a long time before I can get it, it is something." "Yeah. Except I get all my post through RED..." "You can set something up. In the next town, if we are not together. You can set something up, just so that you can write me. They may go a long time before changing things again, but we can at least have a plan." "Yeah. Sure." He pushes my trousers down and pulls me in close. "Sure. A plan." "It is better than nothing." I wind my arms about him. He squeezes my ass lightly and backs me the few steps to his bed. "Maybe it will be a long time, before we need to worry. At least we don't have to worry today, yeah?" "Yes," He slips his hands down and grabs my thighs, lifts me up just slightly, our mouths clashing against each other as we land on the mattress. We bounce once, I cut my lip on his teeth as we do, and he hisses out a curse and pulls back. "Sorry," He sweeps his thumb across the split, gentle. "Fuck, you're bleeding, sorry," I laugh. "You bite me a little too hard in bed and that is a crisis? Every day we die perhaps a hundred times, sometimes at each others' hands, but my lip bleeds and this you need to agonize over?" "Well, I didn't mean to!" "My fault just as much as yours." I push his hand away and kiss him. "That will teach me to try to kiss you while we are falling." A lesson I'll remember for all of a day, if that... Kissing him is intoxicating, falling into bed with him doubly so. How could I resist combining the two? He kisses my bottom lip softly before trailing down my body. "Still sorry." "Mm, I don't even notice it," I stroke his face. He catches my glove with his teeth and tugs at it. I already know the little uneven marks I will find in the leather later, but like battle scars, any damage to my clothes will reset with the respawn when next I am killed. I should retire this pair, get new gloves and keep these bitten forever... a tangible reminder of the way he strips me with animal need and the marks he leaves other places, beneath the suit. There is nothing I can do to keep those from fading when respawn takes me up, but if I changed gloves, I could keep one set of teeth marks always... Once the gloves are stripped away, I bury my fingers in his hair and stroke his scalp, as his mouth maps out my skin, like he is desperate to taste all of me, like being devoured... like I do him a favour merely by lying here. "Mon grand," I murmur, tracing a finger along his ear, sweeping a thumb along his cheekbone. "Mon beau, mon amour..." The growl against my skin and sucking kiss to my hipbone are all the answer I need, to keep up the whispered encouragement. I am whispering them still when we are both drained and passing the customary cigarette between us. "Love you." He slips it between my lips, avoiding the split. "Can you stay? Still early." I shake my head and sit, reality an unwelcome intrusion. "I do not know when my ride back to the base intends to leave. I may already be missed at the bar." He watches me dress. I find a scrap of paper and a pen among his belongings and write down the address for my post office box in Teufort. He is still naked, when we kiss one last time before my exit. The Engineer has indeed beat me back to the Tap Room, where he is laughing with the Demoman. They both take one long look at me before laughing all the harder. "Doesn't take you French boys long to pick up a lady, does it?" He slaps my back. "Is it that obvious?" I smirk and adjust my cuffs. "Aye, looks like you bagged a real wildcat, laddie." The Demoman does the same, and with rather more force. "Wild enough." I allow. "But I'm sure, Labourer, you had an enjoyable time at the bookstore." "Library. And maybe the only lady I picked up has been dead a couple hundred years, but I'm perfectly happy with how I spent my day." He picks up his stack of books and leaves his empty bottle. "Demo, you need a lift?" "N-- Probably. Probably a good idea." Well. Among my new team I already have a reputation as a ladies' man... That could be useful, I suppose. It is not as though they can ever learn the truth.
>>5 I'd never considered PTSD in the TF2 universe before. I hope you do end up writing it because I find the idea very interesting. Love the chapter by the way.
Never read Mercy, but I liked this quite a lot! The 'shuffling' of teams is also my secret personal headcanon, so hooray for that!
<i>It is not as though they can ever learn the truth.</i> And with that, I am filled with an inescapable sense of dread for Sniper and Spy.
Does anyone else sense foreshadowing? I... I can feel it. And I love it and hate it.
Foreshadowing? Moi? For something bad? Why, I don't know what you could mean, I am just sitting here innocently... doing innocent things... in my lair of innocence. (just ignore the evil laughter) ~~~Ch. 3~~~ The Demoman has fallen into an inebriated slumber behind us, as the Engineer drives back to the base from town. "So I guess you got a feel for the place." He says, without too much of a snicker. "Exactly what I wanted." "Guess I can give you a lift out next weekend, if you think she's special." I take a long drag from my cigarette. "Oui, il est... magnifique." "Il?" There's a note of surprise. My stomach clenches. I have slipped into my native tongue a thousand times around my teammates before, to be dismissed with indifference and incomprehension, and I have often used the language gap to say all sorts of things I really thought or felt, without any fear of reprisal, and here he has picked up on nuance? "You know," His hands resettle on the wheel, and he drives like he speaks, slowly and deliberately along the dirt road. "You might not want to say that in front of the others." "The others do not speak French." "True." "I thought you did not speak French." I accuse. "Learned more than science when I was in school." "I... I cannot believe you speak French." "Like a Spanish cow." He laughs. "What the last Spy I worked with always said. Well, I was rusty. But we put up with each other. I talked mostly about engineering. He'd talk about philosophy. And women. That was back when he talked..." "Oh." I remember the window-gazer, with the combat fatigue and the rumours of a forced retirement. "I shoulda been there. Or-- Well, not there. But I wish I'd known when it happened, had a dispenser or a teleporter handy for him. Well, you don't need me prattling on--" "No, please. Tell me. I-- I saw him, when they were reassigning us all. I wondered..." "Ain't much I could tell you. It wasn't a bad death. We all get 'em sometimes and shake 'em off, but... It wasn't a death, guess that's the problem. I heard most of it from one of the soldiers, but he didn't know much. Saw him take a bad hit and crawl away. He made it into hiding but he couldn't get to a first aid kit and our Doc never found him. He waited the whole round out, and probably he knew he ought to just die and come back, but even with respawn to fall back on, the body always fights to live." "The pesky survival instinct." I chuckle. "Well, pretty much. Since then, he'd freeze up on the field sometimes, time his cloak wrong or pull the wrong disguise, just little mistakes or moments of hesitation. Little things setting him off-- not violent, just... not right, exactly. He stopped talking, even to me-- even in French, I mean. Doc knew what it was right away, just not what to do about it. Hell... Hell, I been around roughnecks and mercenaries more'n half my life by now. I know how hard it is to get a man to talk his problems out." "What is this 'roughnecks'?" "Roughnecks, son, oil men. Working the oil fields was how I paid for half my education. Some of 'em Korean vets, some of 'em just hard blue-collar men their whole lives. None of 'em all that different from the kinds of men you work with out here. I get not wanting to talk about your perceived weaknesses. And he stopped wanting to talk, period. But with talking off the table, there wasn't anything anyone knew to do about the shell shock. I didn't even see what happened to near-to-kill him. Just know he spent maybe an hour not dying and waiting to be found." Hoping against hope... I nod. The mind knowing death would be an impermanent relief, the body fighting to stay alive. With friendly fire turned off, I do not know if suicide is even possible, in such a circumstance. Unable to even reach a first aid kit, I cannot imagine the agony of that wait. I have certainly spent my fair share of time on the field gravely injured, but I have always been able to find a means of either regaining health or losing the last of it. Holed up somewhere wondering how long you would be in agony and whether it would be friend or enemy to end it, able only to relive what brought you there? I had always thought the mere idea of combat fatigue in a war with such impermanent deaths silly-- I used to think it impossible. "I am sorry, about your friend." "I just hope he gets taken care of. Short vacation could fix him up. Anyway, that's what I hope. Well, home again, home again..." He pulls the key from the ignition and reaches back to slap the Demo's shoulder. "Wake up, there, Scotty!" "If ye do tha'gain, 'm goan vomit... seats..." "If you go and do that, I'm cutting off your alcohol supply." The Demo struggles out of the back. "Well. If you ever need someone to talk to, my door's always open. I don't need to hear about your escapades in town, but... I won't tell anyone else about 'em, either." The Engineer offers. "Doesn't hurt nobody, after all." "Right." I chuckle. "I will keep that in mind, then, thank you." I returned to my current quarters feeling like the most inept spy in the world. My own hubris again, as well. I need to operate under the assumption now that my teammates may speak any language I do. Most men would not be so accepting, and even the Engineer, for all that he is friendly, would not be so forgiving if he knew my lover's identity.
Awww, Engie is such a sweetie!!
MOAR. I mean, uh.. *clears throat, and proceeds in an Oliver Twist-y manner* Please sir, I want some more!
Here's MOAR (and thanks!) ~~~Ch. 4~~~ On Sunday, I walk down the dirt road towards town-- not the entire way, that I would not attempt. Just down to where a rickety wooden bridge spans the gorge between our bases. It's narrow, a footbridge, but unlike those that connect the bases, this one remains open when battles are not fought, it lies just far enough outside the property lines. I make my way across with the utmost caution. The last thing I need is to fall to my death, or to have to explain the fall afterward. In the sparse wood that lies beyond the RED base, near their own poor road into town, I am able to take some cover as I lope closer. When I am near enough, I employ my cloak. It takes some sneaking and some navigating, but I find his van. I knock gently, and after a moment, the door opens. He looks about, then smiles. "Good to see you. Or, not see you." He mutters. "Wait for me a sec." Instead of inviting me in, he comes out of the van with an old blanket and a transistor radio, jerks his head for me to follow. I do. There is a little place in the woods, of flat soft ground surrounded by a few good trees and a mess of brush, and he spreads the blanket out. Not much comes in over the radio, it is tinny and static hisses and pops, but the quality of the music itself at least is preferable to what came in at Thunder Mountain. "I know it's not taking the sun out in the desert, but... too nice a day to be cooped up in the van." He smiles, spreading himself out. I lie beside him and let the cloak go. "A fine day." "Figured no one'd come hiking out this way. Everyone's trying to adjust back at the base, and even if someone did, we'd hear 'em coming through the brush before they ever saw us." "And I could cloak, and wait. When did you find this place?" "Earlier today. Got restless, thought I'd do some exploring. How'd you get out here?" "There is a footbridge, down the road a ways. I suppose the road is closer on our side-- I saw it on the drive back yesterday." He slips his arm around me and kisses my forehead. I drape an arm across him and settle against his shoulder in return. After a while, he turns the radio off. It was competing with and losing to the birdsong. "We could meet here sometimes. Parking's closer to the base, I don't feel safe asking you to sneak out to the van." "It never felt 'safe'." I laugh. "We could meet here. And in town on the weekend. Talk to me... about life. Things. How is it going on your side?" "Won't know 'til Monday night. Guess it's fine. Our engineer's got a screw loose-- not like the Soldier, but... I don't know, he's a bit weird. Doc almost seems normal, we'll see how long that lasts. Scout's like any scout. Demoman's okay. You can understand the bloke, at least. Last night was a bit of a mixer, he wasn't even the drunkest one there." "My my. Who does this dubious honour go to?" I chuckle. I stroke his chest. "Our Spy. Got tanked and started spouting poetry, then he passed out. Scout thought it was hilarious. I'm just glad this one doesn't have incriminating photos of me-- and if I'd wanted to, it coulda been the other way 'round..." I should have attended my own team's official get-together, it wouldn't have hurt to meet them all formally... "Our Engineer is actually quite pleasant to be around. I will have to watch myself, though, he speaks French." "Oh?" "Don't be jealous." I roll onto him, to deliver a quick peck. "You know what I like..." "Not jealous. Cautious, is all. Seen you run your mouth when you know I can't understand you." "That's different. Pillow talk, usually, and it is not my fault if everything truly romantic sounds horrible in English. No, I will be careful. But... he is friendly. I did not get on well with any of my old team, so... I know hardly anything about our Demoman, but I know he thinks I am a skilled ladies' man. Your fault, by the way. I walked into the bar looking like I had been fucked to within an inch of my life." "Don't think I've ever fucked you to within an inch of your life." He teases. "Maybe I should try it one of these days." "Not outdoors." I roll back over, off of him and onto the blanket, and he rolls after me. "So what can I do to you outdoors?" "To within an inch of my life?" I nudge the collar of his shirt open. "Maybe I could think of something..." We use just our hands, we do not even undress completely. It is deliciously sordid and he never stops kissing me, until we are both spent and panting for breath. "I need to get back to my side... as much as I hate to run so soon." I kiss him again, soft this time. He walks with me to the bridge, blanket thrown over his shoulder and radio tucked under his arm. He kisses me once more there, one hand cupping my chin, one hanging onto the handrail as he leans forward, as I stay glued in place for as long as it takes the kiss to end. "When can I see you again?" He asks, his tone playful. I draw away, but no less playful than he. "On the battlefield? On ne sais rien. To play around in the woods? Maybe Wednesday." "Wednesday sounds fine." He grabs my hand, squeezes once before letting go. "Noon, I'll be at the same spot, you think you can remember it." "Cher, I know I can. And if I catch you before then..." "Be gentle with me." He jokes, placing a hand over his heart. "You won't know I was there 'til I am gone and you are respawning. Unless, of course, you tempt me into stealing a kiss." "Oh, I might tempt you. Might get you first if I do." I find myself lingering even longer on the bridge. "Get me first? To kill me or to kiss me?" "I can do both at the same time." He says, not that it needs saying. "Guess one's a little more fun than the other..." "Oh, a little more?" I lean back towards him. "A little kiss." He shrugs. "A little death. What? What's so funny?" "Nothing," I snort, clinging to the handrail. "You said... It's nothing. Between a little kiss and a little death, I know which one I like more, that is all." "You should get back." "That is what I said, ages ago. You are hard to leave." "Good." He whispers, touching my face softly. "You're pretty hard to push away, but sometimes we both oughtta do the hard thing. And don't snigger at me, you know what I mean." "I know, I know. Sometimes we must both do the hard thing. That's where the little death comes in." I giggle. Well, not giggle. Some... some respectably masculine substitute. We only keep gazing at each other another long moment. "Hit the button on your watch." He suggests. "Then I won't have to stare at you." It sounds like a solid enough plan. Once I am invisible, he only lingers a moment before turning and walking away, and after I ogle his leaving ass for a little while, I am free to do the same. Once that part is taken care of, it isn't too long before the BLU base looms large before me. Due to my absence from the party Saturday night, my disappearance today merely fit into the pattern. It is a pattern I am sure I can keep up with, though I would not mind having the odd conversation with the Engineer I now work with. I should endeavour to at least meet all the others once before Monday night... I can do that over dinner-- or, breakfast. Whatever it is the next meal is around here. Before that, there is time for a shower, a little sleep. A few moments with my own thoughts... and my plans for Wednesday.
Sometimes we must both do the hard thing. That's where the little death comes in My inner 12-year-old can't stop laughing. Can't. Stop. Laughing. Poor RED Spy. At this point I'm 99,9% sure that he is Four's lover. IF that's indeed the case, he must feel so lonely, no wonder he got so drunk... I think I've read too many fics where the mercenaries are casually killed off as soon as they outlive their usefulness, because now I'm wondering if "let go permanently" is a euphemism. I hope the poor shell-shocked Spy doesn't meet a tragic end. And now I'm wondering how the mercenaries might react to an enemy that is obviously off his game. A Sniper or an Engineer who turns around to find the Spy frozen mid-stab/sap, or a Pyro who is perplexed when the Spy accidentally uncloaks right in front of him, or a Scout who doesn't understand why the Spy is always silent and never mocks him nor replies to his insults, or a Soldier who wonders if the Frenchie is truly a surrendering coward. How would battle-hardened warriors feel about fighting an enemy who appears unable to properly defend himself? It could be an excellent source of drama and introspection, and make for a very good story... The original idea of a shell-shocked Spy is yours. Is it ok if I borrow it to make a prompt in the Request Thread? Or would that be out of line of me?
Oh Spy, I'd choose le petit mort any day as well ohohoho
Ooh, I like this fic ! I was sad when the previous one ended, so this one makes me happy :)
dangit that petit mort comment was mine. where'd mah name go? Ah well. Can't wait for the next chapter!
Thanks! And I'm glad I could amuse everyone's inner francophone twelve year old. >>14 Ooh... I would read the heck out of that. Or... or possibly write the heck out of that, depending. Either. Both. Prompt it, and if nobody else steps in to write it, I probably will, but now I totally want to see, like, several takes on the idea. ~~~Ch. 5~~~ Monday, the team eats breakfast as evening falls. The Medic grumbles about the change to his sleep cycle, the Scout is still just young enough to be unaffected-- though in a few more years he may not have such an easy time. It may take a little getting used to, but I have changed my own cycle from day to night before, and back again. Our Engineer has, as well-- he has mentioned working Doublecross before, of course. The others are not so easy to read, they do not telegraph through words or actions their particular feelings on working nights. I never used to socialize much over meals with my old team, I certainly don't socialize outside of meals, but... It does not hurt. I take a seat across the table from the Engineer. The Scout sits next to him, shoveling food into his mouth and talking loudly. The Medic sits by me, gripping his cup of coffee and gritting his teeth. "How do you think tonight will go?" I ask the Engineer. "Have any of the others worked this base before?" "Not sure. We'll be fine, though-- once you get over there, it's not so different, you'll find your way around. Anyway, gotta clean up quick and start getting my stuff together. See you boys in the supply room when the first round starts, but I won't be much of an engineer if I forget my tools down in the workshop." "So, you capture a lotta intel?" The Scout asks me. "'Cause I capture a lotta intel, let me tell you. I mean, you can probably just lie back and leave it all to me, ya know? Outrunning stuff, grabbing crap." "Very well, you go by the direct route and I will take the sewers. We shall see who has the most success." "I just know," The Medic sighs. "By the time I get used to this schedule, they will ship me back to the desert and make me fight my battles in the daytime, and the sun will give me such a headache..." "Suck it up, old man." The Scout rolls his eyes. "'Suck it up'?" He smiles tightly. "I will remember this phrase." "Aw, geez. I didn't mean it, you know-- If I get shot, you gotta help me!" "We'll see. I have my own strategy for the day, I don't know if following a hyperactive monkey through enemy territory will fit into that." "You and lard-ass gonna hold the bridge?" The doctor's expression shuts down immediately. "I will be following the Soldier into the RED base. He will need my help if he wants to be able to reach the gantry, and that is where the RED Engineer will have his sentry. If we can keep it and him out of operation, your jobs will be easier." I take my dishes into the kitchen and give them a rinse before setting them with the other dirty things to be washed later. I have enough time to repair to my own quarters on base, where I have a second mask in my dresser drawer-- not that there is anything wrong with the one I am wearing, but the other has been wrapped around a lavender sachet all weekend, and when one plans on going into the sewers, every little thing helps. Finally, with the skies dark outside, we all gather in the supply room, the Engineer with his tool kit, the Pyro from wherever he hides to eat his meals, and me, smelling of lavender-- a fact the Scout declares to be 'gay', but he does not have to use the sewers to transport himself. When the round begins, I start on my way. My pace is cautious, the opposite of the speedy young man taking the high road. I emerge from the sewer at the train bridge. Up above, I can hear the rattling and echoing explosions and the roar of the miniguns. One of them falls silent and I see a giant arm fall past and into the abyss. No telling whose... I hit the button to cloak myself, and just in time-- the RED Pyro is around the corner, just a flash of fire. Waiting for me? That is good news for my team, at least. He will not be protecting the intelligence. My first shot misses, and he comes charging out onto the bridge. I drop down, recloak as soon as I can. He makes a few wild checks, but he is still far enough away... I back up slowly. When his back is turned, I grab a piece of the debris from the bridge above and hurl it off to the side, where it clatters against the trestle and falls. He sets his flame on the spot, and I fire again, but this time it is another explosion from above that causes me to miss. It is a slower dance than I would have liked, but I manage to dodge him, and finally, I manage to kill him. As I head through the sewer, I trade my gun out for the knife. The knife and stealth... if I can get behind the next foe I meet, deliver a coup de grace... A good kill with my blade is often all I need to shake off whatever may cause a moment's poor aim. Then I will be able to switch back, start fresh. The next time I see the Pyro, I do not intend to miss. Of course, I do not see the Pyro in the sewer. Invisible, I run smack into the one man on the other side capable of doing the same. We are armed the same. I see the quick flicker of doubt as he hesitates-- knows that if he drops his guard with the knife for long enough to draw his gun, I will take the opportunity to stab him, knows that I know the same. The moment of hesitation is quickly replaced with the fury of the battlefield. He lunges, I spin to the side, feint. I thrust, he parries. I knock him back, he falls to his knees and quickly recovers, but he comes in too low. His blade scores my side, but mine slashes across his throat. The alarm sounds, our Scout has made it to the RED intel room ahead of me. Still, I have taken out two men. It is a good day... I can hear the rocketfire and grenades, and the shouting of our Medic. As I slip into the room, invisible once more, I can see the smoking ruins of the RED sentry. The doctor is under the gantry, our the RED engineer is nowhere in evidence, and as soon as the RED demoman is reduced to pieces, I show myself. "Medic!" I cross the room, holding my side. "That's a nasty one." He turns from the Soldier above, and healing is the work of moments. "Merci. You should see the other spy." He chuckles. I disappear and slip away. I can hear the blaring announcement that our own intelligence has been taken, and the oncoming fallen REDs, out of respawn now. When the others are engaged, I snatch up the briefcase that appears in the room-- it will put us back ahead, if I can just make it. Their alarm goes, of course, but coming after me would leave any man open to attack from our Soldier. I run erratically for a moment, am lucky enough to escape the quick series of syringes that hit the ground around my feet when the RED Medic-- the last in the line, and the only one not occupied with attacking one of my teammates-- fires after me. I run through the sewers again. It is still safer for me than the main bridge. I make sure the Ambassador is fully loaded-- I cannot bother with knife duels on the run, I will need to be able to fire, if I run into anyone now. This time, I put a bullet between the Pyro's goggle eyes before he even spots me. By the time I am halfway across the train bridge, my lungs are burning and my knee aches every time my foot hits the ground. I see the Scout coming from our side, and I drop the intel, it skids towards him. "Grab it! Run!" I shout-- well, gasp. He nods and picks it up. I cloak myself before I let myself crouch, hands resting on my thighs. I am too accustomed, perhaps, to going slow. It is fine, for the stealth approach, it is frequently the most useful, and it is not as though I cannot run, but I don't know the last time I have pushed myself that hard... The RED soldier breezes past me, believes I have continued on, and I draw myself up. My first shot hits him in the back, but I fire off the second before he has finished turning, and that one goes right through his head. There is no sense going back to our side... the Scout has taken the case, I am not injured, only a little winded. I need to keep moving, I won't thank myself later if I rest too long. This time I do sneak up to the sniper deck, though I do not announce myself. The sharp whizzing sound of bullets goes both directions, I can see my Sniper ducking the shots from across the way. I merely stay in wait, invisible, near the door from their supply room-- I cannot enter, but I can wait, for one of his teammates to respawn, and send any who take this path back there. It is their engineer, and I take him out quickly and silently as I can. Not entirely silent, and as the shots from the other side cease, he turns. "Me." I uncloak. "It sounds like I should congratulate you." "Yeah, well..." He looks down at the body on the floor. "You too." I dart forward to kiss him. "Whose turn was it?" "Flip a coin?" "I don't have one on me." I kiss him again. "I haven't died yet today, go ahead." He glances at the door into their supply room, then to where I made my entry. "C'mere." I acquiesce, even when 'c'mere' turns out to mean 'lie down on the floor'. His hand travels down my body, his lips slide over mine, as he whispers wordlessly against me. When death comes, it is with a sudden heat and a feeling of being struck down by lightning, but it is over as soon as it begins. When I wake in respawn with my head fuzzy, I still remember no pain. As I return to the battle, I can hear just enough of the voice over the loudspeakers. We have lost our intelligence again. We have made moves towards capturing the enemy's, we have failed. This development is new, though. If it is on the field, it can be recovered. I can see it out on the main bridge, between the two heavies. Neither side can make a move to retrieve the briefcase as long as both men are firing towards the center, but the RED Heavy has a medic following him, and our own Heavy does not... I duck back, I cloak, I wait. Once our Heavy falls, the enemy merely stands guard, the minigun goes silent. I dart out. As soon as my hand touches the handle of the case, my cloak is gone, but it doesn't matter. Only one bullet catches me, I dive off the bridge. Hitting the train bridge below breaks me, every breath I draw is agony, but even recovering the intelligence for the briefest moment gives the team more time. Starting over with this new team means another chance to earn the trust of my teammates, and having the trust of my teammates means I can conduct my own affairs with less risk of suspicion. If they can rely on me, if they like me, if I go above and beyond on the field... then none of them will believe I am sleeping with the enemy. It is worth some pain. There are shouts of confusion above. I managed to pull myself beneath the bridge above, as far as anyone knows, I disappeared into the gorge below, that I took the intelligence with me, with the intel compass showing that it remains on the main bridge where I had grabbed it. I wonder if this is anything like what that other BLU spy felt... this crippling pain, this helplessness. No one knows I am here, no one will think to look for me. Even if suicide were possible, I have moved as far as I possibly can, I could not lift my hand to raise a gun to my temple. My eyes close. The shouts of confusion carry on, replacing gunfire for the time being, but there are... there are echoing footsteps, I cannot tell from what direction they may come. "Holey Dooley... Spy--" "Dagnabbit! Spy--" It feels like my heart stops, but if that happened, I would be experiencing a very pleasant death right now. Similarly, the shotgun blast that follows feels like it goes right through me. "Dammit!" I hear my Sniper hiss. "Don't bother with me, get your damn doctor down here!" Someone kneels next to my head-- the Engineer, I think. I heard him... "He's breathing... MEDIC!" "N-no..." I struggle to lift my head. I can't... but I can turn enough to the side, to open my eyes, to look up at him. They have begun shooting again, up on the main bridge. If the doctor is able to get away, to find us, he will not be fast enough, it would be better to die, but I cannot make the words come to explain it. I feel my Sniper near me, feel his hand hover over me. "Bloody fucking hell, what did you think you were doing..." "What do you think you're doing?" The Engineer demands. I hear the cocking of his shotgun, but I cannot even make another protest. "We're friends, all right? Off the clock, we're friends. On the job we still kill each other, he does a damn good job of it most times. We were both at Teufort and Thunder Mountain before this. We're friends." "Where's that Medic at?" "Don't make him hang on waiting. You can't put him out of his misery, I can. Then if you want to do your job, you can finish me off." I don't hear any answer from the Engineer, but after a moment, I can feel my Sniper leaning over me, his lips at my ear. "Don't worry, darlin', I'm here... shh... it's all over, don't fight." I open my eyes again, see the Engineer pick up the fallen intelligence. None too soon, it would have been lost if he had waited any longer. That is the last thing I see. When I come to, the team is celebrating. All except for the Engineer, who is still and quiet and unreadable in the corner. "You were fucking something!" The Scout hands me a beer. I don't want it, but I let him give it to me. "Engie says he found ya on the train bridge, I guess you were already flat, man, but he got the briefcase back here while everyone was still fighting over where it used to be. I guess none of them RED assholes could figure out you was on the bridge, I don't even know." "It was a lucky break." I shrug. I accept the hearty congratulations of a few of the others-- well, I accept whatever it is the Pyro says-- and the telling off that I get from the Medic over my 'reckless display', something he says he expects from the boy and not from a reasonable grown man. I take the seat beside the silent Engineer and hand him the beer. I am not going to drink it, anyway... "Didn't know you knew any of them." He says, and I still cannot read him. "We played cards." I say. Not entirely a lie... "Once or twice, in Teufort, in the town. Once with one of the RED spies as well. There is not much else to do sometimes. I still do my job." "Obviously." He snorts. "Some job, boy..." "Thank you." I tell him. "I didn't do nothing." "Yes you did. You found me. You called for the doctor. You let the Sniper kill me." "He let me take the intel. Everyone went home happy, I guess." "I appreciate this. What if... What if I promise, that I will come and speak to you, if I ever feel that I cannot do my job? I do not think it will come to that. Lying there that way was terrible, but here I am." I spread my arms. "I am fine. And I am grateful to you." "Appreciate it." "I mean it. It means enough to me that you found me there, I do not need to have been 'rescued'. Do not carry the weight of the whole team on your shoulders, just trust me when I say that I am all right." He nods, slowly. "Still not sure what I make of you being friendly with..." "I might be friendly with anyone, when it is the weekend." I pat his arm. "Think nothing about it, it... Just, don't worry over it. As long as I am doing my job, you won't worry?" "Sure." He opens the beer. "Sure. Thanks, Spy." "De rien." I shake my head. For a while, we just sit, in silence, and watch the others celebrate the team's victory.
I don't know what it is that I like most about this chapter. Maybe it's that I've done this maneuver on this map as Spy before. Except I missed the bridge below. So...good for Spy! And good for you. I like your writing, and I hope to see more. I'm curious to see how Engie's role may grow in this story. If he'll become a good ally, a problem, etc.
Man, the guys are slipping. Now TWO people know that they are close. At least this time both people are on friendly terms with them, but it's still a sword of Damocles. I'm curious to see what happens next. Prompt posted! The Request Thread seems to be autosaged now (probably because it went past 200 posts), but hopefully people will still check it. I didn't directly ask you to write it because I figured that you already have your hands full with other fics, but if you somehow can manage to add another fic to your WIP then I'd be very happy. I love your writing and I'd love to read your take on the prompt :) IF you are going to write it, I have another suggestion. One or more of the enemies Spy is pitted against are enemies he used to fight with before the shell-shock. Fight against enemy/ies X --shuffle--> fight against enemies Y and get shell shock --shuffle--> fight against X again. If they were complete strangers, they might just assume that Spy is incompetent. But if they know first-hand of his abilities, his sudden poor performances would definitely raise a flag and make them wonder what the heck happened to him. More potential for drama.
Heh, I just remember thinking 'Wait, I think this is possible!' before writing it, and then after writing it, thinking 'Well now I really want to try it, to make sure...' (okay, and because sometimes I love jumping off of things in games, even if the crunch when you take fall damage is sickening...) But the configuration of those two bridges felt like it could really work. Darn it, now I'll have to find a server playing Doublecross just so I can jump to my potential death... (Captcha says 'narrative'...) ~~~Ch. 6~~~ Tuesday night is uneventful, but Wednesday... Wednesday I arrive shortly before noon to find my Sniper already pacing. The moment I appear between the trees, he rushes to me, and of all the kisses after every separation and every danger... this is the most passionate I have been greeted with yet. "I missed you as well." I chuckle, pushing him back. The blanket and transistor radio are there... I lie down, and he follows, but neither of us bother to search out music. "I could see bone," He is on me, his arms wrap tight around me. "Oh... Oh, cher... It's fine, you know." "I mean, and I've killed you myself plenty enough times in this war, and I've never been a squeamish man, but... but I never seen anyone take that kind of damage and live." "That is not true." I remind him. "When we met, I did not even have a body for bone to show through." "This is different." I nod. There is no sense in lying, after all. "It was horrible. It is over. Again, thanks to you." "How much do you remember?" He frowns. "How much were you conscious for?" "I remember... Maybe most of it. I thought I would lose consciousness, but I never did. Then it was over." "Your engineer saw me." "Yes. But... he is all right. And I earned myself a great deal of goodwill among my teammates." "You don't think he'll suspect-- I mean, I said we were just casual friends, but I know I wasn't acting like some casual friend." He admits, burying his head between my neck and shoulder. "Maybe he didn't even notice, he was shook up, too. I just... You live through too much." "Just lucky, I guess." I snort. "It isn't funny. It was bloody terrifying. When everyone argued over where the intel ought to've been, I realized you had to still be... I don't know why I ran down there, I didn't think you'd-- Your bones were--" "Hush... shh... They are back where they belong now. As am I." He tugs my tie loose, pushes my mask up and my collar down so that he can kiss and suck at my throat. "Are you marking me?" I tease, running my fingers through his hair. "Mm, maybe. No one's gonna see it but me." He lifts his head. "Tonight I will try to stay alive, then." I touch the spot. "I'd like to keep it, for once." Finally, I get a soft laugh from him instead of the worried frown. "Oh? Well, don't worry if you can't, I'll be happy to mark you up again some other time. I got plenty of space to do it on." "This is true." I undo a shirt button, my eyes on him. I love lying like this, the weight of his lower body resting on mine, his arms to either side of me, holding him up and keeping me in. The way he looks down at me with such a mixture of hunger and wonder... a man could get used to being looked at that way. I have left my own marks on him, of course, but I have to be careful. There is very little on me that I do not keep covered, a veritable open country of places to bruise and bite. When I am the one leaving marks, I stick to the same few safe places. The ridge of a hipbone, the inside of a thigh. Places no one is likely to look even if he survives to shower with his team before respawn can wipe him clean. Once I left a little mark on the heel of his hand, where the glove would hide it most of the day and where it would not likely be too noticeable in the narrow windows of time when it might be visible. When he marks me... when he marks me, it is something. On occasion, of course, there are the hasty scratches and tooth marks left in the heat of the moment, but more often than that, the slow process of sucking bruises up to the skin, and it is gentle, rhythmic, with his tongue working over each spot as it builds, with his teeth closing over me at my urging. I am moaning and coming apart under him when we both hear the crashing of a person trying to move through the brush beyond the trees. Immediately, he pulls away from me, and I cloak myself and retreat back, not far enough to disturb any branches, but far enough that if his visitor decided to come closer, even onto the blanket, I would not be bumped. It is the RED Spy, tripping over the last tangled bit of undergrowth, coming into the clearing and casting about with obvious suspicion. "Hey, mate. To what do I owe the pleasure?" My Sniper aims for casual, friendly. "I thought I heard voices." "Radio." "Your radio is off." The Spy points out. "Thought I heard someone coming, turned it off. You right? Ya look..." I notice it as well, he looks... sick? Or has he become a full time drunk now? "Do you think I don't know?" He shouts, sudden. He draws his gun, also sudden, firing at the empty place on the blanket that I had vacated. They are both a little surprised, when I do not appear, but at least my Sniper recovers quickly, grabbing the RED Spy's arm. "What the FUCK was that about, huh?" "You're not-- He isn't-- I-- My apologies." "Go back to the base and go to bed. And try and dry out before tomorrow's fight." "I'm not-- It isn't-- I was sure--" "Look, the team knows you've been drinking during the days, mate. Tuesday you downed a bottle of cooking sherry and wrote poems about... hell if any of us knew, they were lying around and Scout tried reading 'em out loud, but they were half-French, and the English half didn't make too much sense." "You're making that up." The RED Spy blanches. "Poems about gazelles. I think the gazelle was also a beautiful woman named Jean? Honestly, your handwriting's pretty lousy, maybe it didn't say 'Jean'. Maybe it said 'queen'. Or 'luau'. Or... I don't know, something with a 'T', or an 'i'. Anyway, remember when she wasn't an antelope there was some bit about being 'robed in silk the colour of your eyes' and Scout laughed about it, but really most of us thought it was just depressing." The spy shakes his head. "Jean." He corrects, voice soft on the correct pronunciation, and it is not a woman's name. "Sure, fine." "Well, I am not surprised to find that none of you are scholars of medieval poetry. Of course you wouldn't-- I... He is really not here with you?" "Who's not here?" "Don't lie to me. I was there when you met in town, I know what those looks mean. And... and I could hate you for it. Not even for the reasons you think, I could hate you for it. For having everything while I have nothing. Because as long as we are on one team we cannot both be happy, for all that I could hate you. Anyway... Thank you. I think... I think I will abstain from drinking, for the time being. If only because my private thoughts do not belong in the hands of our Scout." "Probably for the best." Sniper nods. After the RED Spy has been gone long enough, I return to the blanket and uncloak. "Well, fuck. How much do you think he really knows?" Sniper wraps an arm around me, rests our foreheads together. "If he knows anything, it is only because he is guilty of the same, I assume with the last spy he was stationed against. What is he going to say? Even if he could tell the others without implicating himself, who between you is more reliable? You, the hardworking Sniper, or him, the depressed lush with the bad handwriting?" "I just-- that makes two spies on my side who know I'm... Who know I've got something with you. And your engineer's got to know something, even if he doesn't know everything." "Maybe, but he has not confronted me about the affair." "Suppose he doesn't confront you? Suppose he just goes to your bosses?" "He won't." I shake my head. "He is not the type. If there were a problem, he would address it head on first, I trust that much." With the interruption, we do not have time for all that we wanted. We both still must sleep, before a night of war. I kiss him goodbye. "I just worry." He admits. "We would be fools if we never worried." I touch his cheek. "It needn't consume us. I will come to you if I have reason to worry over the Engineer. For now, he is still a friend to me. For now... Go, rest." "Your turn to come by and kill me tonight, if you want to." He fiddles with my lapels. "I-- I mean, not that you want to. I mean... Just like seeing you, I guess. Someone's got to kill me." We laugh, kiss again. "Maybe. If I can get to you. I need to go..." "Yeah." He releases me, takes a step back. I disappear, back to my own base. The corridors are empty, it is easy to make it to my bed without meeting anyone. It is a little unsatisfying, to be left to my own devices just when I had been thinking about letting him fuck me outdoors... but I wrap one hand around myself, and with the other I press a couple fingers against the love bite left to bloom on my throat. That mark is still there. If I can stay alive tonight, tomorrow it will still be there...
...So, the BLU Spy who is secretly involved with the RED Spy is named Jean, there are several Teams, and you are GlasgowSmiles on LJ. Please tell me that the Universe this fic takes place in is not even remotely the same Universe as The Defiant Ones', and the similarities are just coincidences. I remember reading The Defiant Ones, its sequels, and its spin-off Meet The Spies. And I remember the tragic story of Jean the BLU Spy who was in a secret relationship with a RED Spy; the relationship was found out and his lover was taken out of Respawn and Jean tried to commit suicide but couldn't. It was really, really sad. I hope that the BLU Spy Jean and RED Spy in THIS story are different people who can have a happy ending, or at least not a terribly depressing one.
>>22 Wait, Anne wrote that? Anneeeee, you're awesome.
>>20 (man, I might have to write that... I'll give the prompt thread a little time to pick it up, though) (also, it looks like you were posting this at the same time as I was writing/formatting/posting the chapter...) >>22 I'd say it's more of an alternate universe to that universe. I can use the same groups of characterizations when I have to write multiple team times, but all the events are totally different, so happy endings are a possibility. >>23 Yeah, that was LJ me. And aw, thanks! I try. ~~~Ch. 7~~~ I manage that night to make it across the bridge and up to the sniper deck there. I scan the area before approaching him, to be sure no one else is on their way, but the resupply room beyond is silent, and if any of his teammates respawns there, there will be a sound to alert me. I kneel down, hugging the wall, before uncloaking. I give him a moment more, to finish taking a shot, and to scan the field with his scope. "Looks like we got a minute." He drops down to sit beside me. "Most of the action's going on over on your side now, and I just took out your sniper." "You took out BLU's Sniper." I correct him. "You are my Sniper." "Fine." He grins and drops an arm across my shoulders. "We should probably cool it the rest of the week... after last time..." "The weekend won't be long." I lean in to kiss his neck, breathe him in. I go ahead and leave one little bite mark that respawn will remove presently. "Until then, mon cher..." "Yeah, yeah. Just-- off me quick, right? My team can't stay alive forever over there, and any minute now, your-- your team's sniper is gonna be looking for me if nobody else is in good sniping range." "Right." I take my knife in hand, take the steeling breath this routine still requires. Take one last kiss... From there I head for RED's intelligence room-- I do not know what I will find, both teams are largely clustered to our side of the bridge, but there are a few absent players. I may have to deal with the RED engineer before I can take the intelligence. I prepare the electro-sapper in expectation-- he will likely have a sentry, and I will need to remove that first. Then I can take care of the man. And then I can take the briefcase. I hear someone land behind me, before I can enter the room, and I move aside just in time-- the thrust hits, but it hits my shoulder and not my back, and the RED Spy's cloak shorts out. I fall on the one recourse I have-- I hit him upside the jaw with the electro-sapper. Only after I have knocked him back do I have a second to spare switching out for a real weapon. He cloaks himself again, but it does not last long. It means my shot was off, but still, a hit is a hit, even when it does not kill. He spits out a mouthful of blood and glares up at me from the ground, one hand on his switchblade, the other on his bleeding shoulder. He struggles up from his place there, on one knee, to stand, but I am able to sidestep his wide slashes. The volley of insults is not unexpected-- we all find ourselves slipping into jeers and shouts in the heat of battle, after all-- though their nature seems a little different. I step in close when he has to correct his balance, and hit him in the jaw again. I grab his wrist to keep myself from being stabbed in the heart, and with the elbow of my gun hand, I strike his wounded shoulder. He drops back down to his knees with a grunt. "Listen to me." I rest the muzzle of the Ambassador against his temple. "I do not like to lose. No man here does. But I am not completely hard-hearted. I will, of course, try to kill you any time that we meet on the field, but that is no reason why two men cannot help each other, is it? I expect you to be prudent, in terms of what you do with... certain suspicions you may have." He sneers at me. "Why don't you just save yourself the breath and me the boredom and pull the trigger now?" "Because, I have not yet discussed what I may do for you in return for your prudence." "I want no favors from you." "Coldfront." "... What?" I let go of his wrist and take a step back, though I keep my gun trained on him. "He is at Coldfront. Perhaps the knowledge does you little good, but I thought it might be better to know, than to wonder." He nods, and while understanding does not replace confusion in his eyes, it joins it. "Thank you." He says. "Think nothing of it." I pull the trigger. The Engineer will be on alert, if he overheard the fight. I slip into a mask, the RED Spy, and I limp into the room, lean against the door, perfectly mimic the injured mannerisms. "Took care of your spy checking." I sneer. He is only now beginning to set up the sentry, but after a moment, he accepts that I am who I appear to be, as I move to lean against his dispenser and watch him work. I wait until he has almost completed the sentry, before I strike. Then I grab the intelligence and run for the sewers. I make it all the way into our own intelligence room on my own, where I throw the briefcase down next to our own. "How's it going out there?" Our Engineer asks. "They've pushed us back from the bridge, but only by leaving a serious hole in their own security. I killed their Sniper, their Spy, and your own opposite number, to get this." "You did?" He looks surprised for a moment, then he grins at me. "Good job there." A volley of grenades bounce into the room from the hallway above, but they do not bounce in far enough to damage the sentry, and after a small explosion, the RED Demoman's leg flops down after them, and our Soldier runs into the room. "Intel safe?" "Intel's safe." The Engineer salutes. Soldier returns the salute, then goes thundering back out into the fray. A moment later, his head comes flying back, without the rest of him. "BONK!" The RED Scout darts past the sentry, grabs our briefcase. He manages to dodge my fire and the Engineer's, but as he heads for the door, our Pyro sets him ablaze before he can make it far. I make one quick detour to the dispenser to reload on ammunition, before I make it back towards the other side. A few shots come close, and in the end, our intelligence is taken as many times as we are able to take theirs, but I last through the night without being killed myself. It's a draw, no cause for celebration but no cause for great sorrow, either. Over dinner, a few of the men discuss the night's statistics, and tomorrow night's potential strategies. I do not involve myself-- my strategy does not revolve around anyone else's, after all, and I do not care for any statistics but my own. Still, in the record of the battle, at least there is tangible proof, that I am willing to kill my Sniper, something the Engineer can look at and understand. He is a man used to dealing with facts and numbers and data. Facts and numbers and data are all I will need, if I want to keep his trust. I do not like how open my secret is becoming, but at least so far, there is no one with whom I have no leverage whatsoever. It is something to hold onto.
Woot, an update! Out of all the stories I watch for updates, this is one of my favorites.
I can't believe how fast you update! Your writing is top quality too. I am following this avidly!
Again, not sure why I like the battle scene, but I'm glad you put in the bit about the sapper in there. Ask my server friends- multiple times, I've stated that you should be allowed to bludgeon people with that little fucker. And I'm glad you included that in here. I really like this story. I really, REALLY. I honestly, truly think that you are my favourite author ever. It used to be the person who wrote The Defiant Ones, but, well... Isn't it funny? The author of Mercy, and the author of The Defiant Ones were doing battle in my head for the title of favourite author, and all along were the same person!
Thank you so much, you guys! I'm all blushing and crap over here. (And dude, it would be so nice to be able to brain someone with a sapper. Inconvenient being helpless while you've got it out. Someone comes over spychecking and you stab 'Q' frantically hoping to arm yourself in time...) ~~~Ch. 8~~~ On Saturday, the Engineer accompanies me into the Tap Room, an unexpected inconvenience. The Demoman's company I knew I would need to tolerate, but I also trusted that I would be able to slip away without his notice. There is a large table in the corner, where my Sniper sits with the RED Spy and Demoman. The two Demomen look comfortable, but my Sniper and fellow Spy do not. I can only hope that I look not too ill at ease. Still, my teammates and I take the remaining seats, and casual greetings are exchanged. "I wanted to speak to you." The RED Spy leans across the table to me. "I tried to talk him out of it." My Sniper rolls his eyes. "I thought you gave up drinking." The RED Demoman laughs. "About what?" I glance nervously at my own teammates. "I don't even know." My Sniper shakes his head, his distrust of his teammate apparent. "Not in front of the others." I frown. I am not keen for any of my team to witness any private discussion between the two of us, knowing what the subject is likely to be. I am also not keen to be seen as willing to conspire with an enemy spy. "It won't take long." He promises, and I glance around the table again. The two demos are reminiscing about Scotland, and though neither is yet particularly drunk, they are lost in a fog of nostalgia particular to countrymen who meet on foreign shores. It might be I could play on that angle, if asked later what an enemy spy had to discuss with me. Maybe it would not work, but I can practice the wording for the lie at least. I rise, and turn to the Engineer. "I trust it really won't take long. But, feel free to keep an eye on me from here." "Such mistrust." The RED Spy smirks. "I do not murder people on the weekend, but fine. We can speak across the room." "It will be fine." I say-- toss the words lightly off to the Engineer, but make eye contact as well with my Sniper. He nods stiffly, and I feel his eyes on us as well when we move to the other end of the bar. "You operate as we do, I imagine." The RED Spy crosses his arms and stares at the bottles that line the shelves behind the bar. "I imagine so." I look past him, to the bank of payphones. The forced calm is stifling. "It is not... unusual, for the bases to contact each other, over developments, or even rumours. Perhaps rumours most of all-- whenever there is a whisper of new technology, a flurry of letters fly around before anything is received." "Yes. And?" "So write to Coldfront. Tell him I am all right, at least." "Are you?" He nods. "Better. I suppose it was true, what you said. Better knowing than not. Pass along some word, and I will cover for the Sniper, with the others. I can provide an alibi, if he ever needs one. Only if you can send a message for me." "Fine. I will find a way to let you know, about any reply. And I will be sure to word everything carefully, I do not trust that all our mail goes through unmolested." "No, nor I. The re-sealing is sometimes sloppy." He says, with a quick and bitter huff of laughter. "Thank you. You will not regret this-- this little truce of ours." We return to the table, and while we receive curious and measuring looks, no one asks any questions. After finishing a single beer, the Engineer excuses himself for another visit to the hardware store, and the demos are again engaged in a deep and involved conversation. The RED Spy nods to us, and my Sniper and I slip out to the van in the alley. "What was that about?" He asks me, once we are alone. "An arrangement. I am to find a way to send some sort of message to his lover, he will see that you remain above suspicion in the eyes of your teammates." "Dunno how I feel about this..." I shrug. "It is not such a difficult thing for me to do, and I would rather you have an ally than a loose cannon on your team." He loops his arms about my waist and kisses the side of my neck through the balaclava. "Right. Still." "He knows either way. I cannot make him not know, but I can make him happy-- or, close enough to it. A friend instead of an enemy, off the battlefield." "Sure, sure. Hey, didn't bring you here to think about some other spy..." "Good." I kiss his cheek, nearly miss completely as he moves to pull my mask off at the same time, but once it is gone, I can find his mouth with mine. "So... what're you in the mood for?" He pushes my shirt open, his touch sliding over my chest. I pull him down onto the bed, and it only slightly hampers our speed in undressing each other. I have no words to answer, what I am in the mood for is merely him, but when my hands are on him and we are thrusting against each other, it is enough, and when I come across my own belly he licks my skin clean and wraps a hand around himself, jerking fast until I pull his hand away and drag him up to the head of the bed, and then it is only a few hard thrusts with his hand fisted in my hair, to bring him over the edge as well. He lights my cigarette for me and we lie there awhile. His fingertips stroke lightly along my jaw, and my hand rests on his stomach. "Monday again?" He smiles over at me. "I'll wait for you." "You won't wait long." I promise. I kiss him lightly, before rising to dress, and I let him have the cigarette while I do. This time, I return to the bar before the Engineer does. I garner the expected whistling catcalls from not only my own Demoman, but the RED as well. "Your friend told us," The RED Spy laughs. "That you are something of a Casanova." I merely shrug lightly, and smile, and do not deny it. On the drive back to the base, the Demoman is again drowsy and drunk. The Engineer is unaccountably happy. "Am I to take it I was not the only one who had a pleasant afternoon in town?" I ask him. "Not so interesting as I'm sure yours was." He coughs. "Aw, hell, I didn't even talk to her." "Oh?" "In the hardware store in old Levis and a baseball cap. Guess I've seen her there once or twice before. For gardening stuff, household necessaries. Guess I've never actually talked to her." "If just seeing this woman makes you float on air, maybe you should." "Wouldn't know what to say to a lady." "So do not talk to her like she is a lady. Talk to her like she is someone shopping for... hardware." I shake my head. "Surely you know more than some small-town clerk about any of those tools." "I don't know. How much hardware does one little lady buy? Last time I seen her there before today was the last time I was stationed here. No reason to think she's in every week-- I mean, I know she's not in every week!" "Maybe not. If you are in there every week, though, you will still be there on the next week she is. Or maybe she will frequent your bookstore as well." "Library. Lending-library. Bibliotheque. Not a bookstore." He chuckles. "Maybe. Well, I do have to return some things come next Saturday." "There you go, then. Library. It is not my fault if your language is backwards about it." "Course, if I see her in the library, it's a little weird talking hardware..." "If you see her in the library, you talk about books." I shake my head and sigh. "I despair of you, Labourer. You ask what she is reading, if it is any good. You pick up books of romantic poetry and you ask if she cares for it." "I don't know." "Trust me. I know how to talk to women-- don't give me that look, just because I may not choose to sleep with them, I can still talk to them. I am French. We are born knowing how to talk to women." He chuckles. "Fine. I'll think about taking your advice, then." I merely nod. We drive past the little footbridge, and after a little while, we pull up to the base, and I excuse myself to my quarters. I have a letter to write, and I must do it carefully.
Haha. It IS backwards. Never really thought about that before. I love the little French things you throw in here, I really do. They're absolutely adorable. Another stellar chapter as always. I hope Engie and Spy both succeed in their endeavours. I'm really liking your RED Spy, but I've a feeling for some reason that something bad will happen soon enough. I mean, right now, there's no real conflict, aside from the general sneaking-around-ness. And I KNOW you're gonna do something to change that, and I worry SO DAMN MUCH! I CAN'T WAIT! Hehe.
Huh? Could someone explain that library/bookstore thing for me? I took one course in French years ago and only thing I remember from that is how to say 'I hate x'. Wonderfull chapter as always :)
>>30 The french word for bookstore is 'Librairie', and library is 'bibliothèque', which literally translates to 'book storage'. Yay. 16+ years of studying French finally pays off.
>>31 Thank you.
"Trust me. I know how to talk to women-- don't give me that look, just because I may not choose to sleep with them, I can still talk to them. I am French. We are born knowing how to talk to women." I had quite the laugh at this. Also, I loved this chapter, keep up the good work!
Thanks, all! (I kept wanting 'librairie' and 'library' to be the same when I was learning French... then I just learned how to say things like 'le rhinoceros et dans le bureau' and 'Je suis un sandwiche au dindon'. I was not the most serious student... My pronunciation was always good, at least-- I never said 'where is the war?' instead of 'where is the train station?', which apparently was a common problem in beginners' french) ~~~Ch. 9~~~ The letter is awkward, to write in a way that will seem above reproach and yet still be understood. I discard several early drafts before finding one I approve of. 'Monsieur, Before our respective transfers, you and I had a brief discussion. I thought you might be interested to know that I believe your amant is stationed here at Doublecross. I know, you are yourself relatively certain that I am mistaken. However, I found myself in conversation with a person of refinement who was rather disappointed to find that I was not someone else. I gathered that the person in question is somewhat prone to writing poetry, comparing the object of their own affections to the gazelle? I hope this is a meaningful detail and not just some manner of drunken whimsy. Now, if you are convinced, you are probably asking yourself what I wish to extract from you in return, but to be honest, we are in very similar boats. Of course, it is never a bad thing, to have a fellow spy owe you some favour, but I really do not expect anything from you. I have been asked to let you know not to worry. If you are yourself well, I will be perfectly happy to pass word along. -Doublecross' Several re-reads later, I can still find nothing objectionable, even if the language is by necessity awkward in places. Still, nothing overt, nothing which could hang a man. I find an envelope, address it to the Spy at Coldfront, and send it to outgoing company mail. Dinner is cool and almost entirely devoured when I do make it down to the others, but they are still sitting around and talking. The Engineer seems to be the uneasy center of attention. "Ah, mon ami, I see you made the grave mistake of confiding in our comrades-in-arms." I smile, dropping into the empty seat. "I just mentioned there being a... a lady in town, that seemed nice." "Aye, ruining all our plans. I said next weekend we ought to all drive into the city--" "Not town." Scout interrupts the Demoman. "The real city." "And get this lad," The Demoman slings an arm about the boy. "Get this lad properly drunk, tattooed, and laid." "Ask the Sniper to drive you." I shrug. BLU's Sniper merely shakes his head. "Not interested. Nothing I want from the city I can't find in town." "But the town doesn't got a nudie bar and every single girl there's got an old man with a shotgun!" "You have a shotgun." He shrugs at the Scout. "Yeah, but-- Yeah-- You know the kind of trouble we get in for shooting civilians, though!" "Anyway, I want to hear more about this girl Truckie's got." "I don't 'got' anyone. I just... see her, time to time." "You could still tell the man if she is pretty or not." Our Medic snorts. "The entire team is hanging on your every word." "I... I mostly saw her from behind..." The Demoman and Sniper both laugh. "Sometimes that's all you need to know!" "I absolutely disagree." The Soldier shakes his head and folds his arms. "A beautiful woman without beautiful tits is like half a beautiful woman." "Absofrigginlutely." The Scout nods. "Like Scout's mother." "Shut the hell up!" "That's not what I meant." The Engineer's head drops forward. "I just... haven't... talked to her. I think she's pretty. I mean, if I catch her turning my way. Just she usually don't." The Demoman and Soldier have taken up arguing between themselves, over the relative merits of being a breast man or an ass man. "This is America, and a democracy, and we are going to hold a vote." Soldier announces. "Engie?" "I guess... I guess I like, oh, I don't know. Hips, mostly. Soft curve of 'em. The way they move." "You, sir, are a traitor. Scout?" "Tits. And don't nobody say nothing about my mom unless you want your fuckin' skulls bashed in, neither!" "Tits is the American choice, son." Solder affirms, clapping the boy on the shoulder, his logic confusing all but the most hardened idiot. "We already know Demo's feelings on the subject. Doc?" "... Is it not possible to like both?" The Medic hesitates. The Soldier just shakes his head. The Heavy raises an eyebrow and shrugs. "Prefer backside." He volunteers. "Pyro?" There is a truly incomprehensible stream of mumbling-- and I do mean more incomprehensible than usual, and the Soldier just nods. "I will put you in the 'tits' column." He announces, despite the Pyro's head-shaking. "Spy?" "My own preference is... perhaps more for a long pair of legs." I answer, comfortable in the realm of vague-yet-technically-truthful. "Oh, aye." The Demoman nods. "When they just keep going up and up? I do like a good set of legs, I hadn't thought of that." "But between the two options presented... a nice firm ass is a thing of beauty, gentlemen, if you want my honest opinion, then I cannot deny it." "Sniper?" "Oh, I like a nice big pair of... eyes." He laughs into his coffee mug. "Well, shoot. Thanks to Doc Can't-Make-a-Choice here, we're dead even. I'm assuming for the sake of argument that eyes means tits." The Sniper just smirks into his coffee some more. "Anyway." The Engineer coughs. "I wasn't-- I wasn't ogling her. She seems like a sweet gal. Sensible." "How do you even know all this?" I tease him. "Sensible I understand, but sweet? You see her from across a hardware store and you decide she must be sweet?" "Hudda?" The Pyro turns. "Well. No reason to think she isn't sweet. And I like sensible." "You sure you're in love with the girl?" The Sniper laughs. "Ya might just be in love with the hardware." "No, it's the girl." He shakes his head. I get up from the table, to serve myself the last of the dinner still sitting out, and I overhear a little more gentle ribbing from the team, something that earns a boom of laughter from the Heavy. By the time I return to the table, though, half the team has dispersed. The Pyro is just leaving, and the Engineer, Sniper, and Heavy remain, a comfortable silence descending. Or at least, I thought a comfortable silence was descending. "Demo says you've got a lady of your own." BLU's Sniper says casually. I choke on my water, and the Engineer slaps me on the back. "So that's a yes, then?" "You are free to think what you wish." "Because from what Demo's said, you could describe your ladyfriend with a lot more... accuracy, than Truckie here can." "I could. But a gentleman does not kiss and tell." "You can dress up all you like, mate." He laughs. "You're never gonna be a gentleman so long as it's your job to be a sneak." "Exceedingly gorgeous." I spear one of the somewhat rubbery pieces of steak. Possibly mushroom. It really is hard to tell what this dish used to be. "Was stationed in Dustbowl before this." Heavy says. "Had... sweetheart, there." "Yeah?" Engineer smiles at him. "Yes. Little." He holds his hands apart, and while in comparison I imagine she must be, it still seems like more waist than I would consider 'little'. "Sexy. Not redhead, though... Is fine, hair not that important. Still, little Engineer should talk to redhead girl in town-- redhaired women... feistier." The Engineer blushes, as the Heavy elbows him and laughs, and the Sniper just leans back in his chair. Confident that my own love life has been forgotten, I focus on eating. The food is neither warm nor particularly tender, but it tastes fine. And I have survived a round-table discussion with the men of my team about the fairer sex and passed. It feels like a good night.
Noticed a small typo where you misspell Soldier: Solder affirms, clapping the boy on the shoulder, his logic confusing all but the most hardened idiot. This was a fun chapter. I especially liked the Pyro bits. I take it BLU Heavy is actually missing his Medic? And I'm not quite sure what to make of the current BLU Medic and Sniper's choice of dialogue, or maybe I'm just dense. It's rather cute the BLU Engineer has a crush on a lady, and has trouble getting himself to talk to her. Again, fun chapter. Me likey much.
Wait a minute... Why did Pyro 'Hudda' right there? S'going on here, Anne? Something foreshadowy perhaaaaaps? Suspicions. I haz them. Pyro's the chick. Calling my suspicions now, in case I'm right. Which I never am, but still.
>>36 Pyro is actually the girl engie is interested in
34 Haha, "I am a sandwich" Love the chapter. And the way you wrote their tastes in women
This was a pretty humorous chapter. And you know, usually I'm not compelled to comment every single time a fic updates, but I am for this one. Anyways, this chapter was great.
Thanks, everyone! Glad you're all enjoying! >>35 D'oh! Of course spellcheck wouldn't catch that since 'solder' is a word... just, the wrong word. ~~~Ch. 10~~~ Sunday evening is an interminable stretch of waiting. I find myself on the periphery of a few conversations, about strategy, about sports, about women. About strategy I have some input, about sports I care little-- at least, not for the sports my teammates consider worthy of following-- and about women I... I can pretend to care. The question of experience versus purity has been raised, and the team is no more a united front on that subject than they were on body parts. "I don't mind imparting my vast wealth of knowledge." I smirk, when placed on the spot. "There is a certain something, in educating a blushing innocent. But, that being said, I do prefer a fast learner." It is enough to satisfy everyone. Tomorrow the mail will go out, my letter to Coldfront with it. Tomorrow, I will meet my Sniper. I turn in early, my social obligations fulfilled. It gives me a couple of hours to sleep, before I make my way across the gorge. I wake with the whole of the base still sleeping, the locker room and shower free. With the time I have before my assignation, I go ahead and take the time I almost never do-- I can so rarely afford to, when I must time my ablutions to avoid showing my face to the others-- to linger with the hot water hitting the small of my back, to get a nice close shave in. Even back in the hotel in Teufort, I did not always manage a close shave... of course, so much of that comes from the man distracting me at every turn when we shared that hotel room... I suppose I never really asked him, if he appreciated it, or if he preferred the touch of stubble. That is, if he cares about that sort of thing at all... I never asked about the aftershave, either-- again, not that I got around to employing it very often-- but by now I know his habits well enough. I suppose I will get my answer when I see him. If he spends less time than usual smelling me, I can toss the bottle out. More time, and I'll know to wear it a little more often, at least when I am able to sneak off to see him. And if there is no change whatsoever, then he is indifferent. Besides... asking him what he likes, I don't know. He trips over the words sometimes, I think he would prefer to communicate without. It's certainly fun, communicating physically alone. There's not much that I can do, about my hair. If I dare take the mask off, it will be a mess no matter what I do, and if the mask stays on, then it does not matter, but even if it were neat, he would only go about making me a mess... I slip out to the footbridge, and across to the little clearing, arriving at the same time he does. This time he has not bothered with the radio, but he spreads the blanket out and I join him on it. "You're a sight for sore eyes." He kisses me. "You saw me two days ago." I laugh. "You still look good." He rolls me onto my back. "You feel pretty good, too." "And you." I work his shirt open. He hisses against me when my thumbs brush over his nipples. "Oh, you like this?" "Know I do..." He straddles me now, sitting back and letting his shirt drop away. I run my hands all over him, black leather against the pale tan of his belly, the coarse hair of his chest. He moans, his head lolling back, and I undo his belt. "What else do I know you like?" "Aw yeah... that, please, that..." I just squeeze the growing bulge a moment before going for the zipper. "This? Here?" "You wanna make me beg for it?" He growls. "Maybe another time." I smile, opening his fly and reaching in to bring him out. I continue to tease, just a little, a loose hold, slow strokes. His groans are low and filthy and just a little frustrated. Well, the frustration I am happy to help with... "Come up here, I want to taste you..." He moves around to kneel by my head, and I pull myself up, my head in his lap, hands on his hips. This time, the control is mine, he can jerk forward only so far as I allow, he can grab at me, but there is little purchase available with the balaclava on. As much as I enjoy rendering him helpless this way, I stop teasing once I have my mouth around him, and once he is finished, he returns the favour eagerly. There is enough time, after, to lie around a while. A few moments of silence to get our breath back, and then I rest my head on his shoulder. "Before I go... tell me a story, about the outback? You must have seen and done a few spectacular things out there, that I do not already know about." "A few." He chuckles. "You wanna hear about the bush or the desert?" "I don't know. Where are the kangaroos?" He laughs out loud at that. "I don't know if I have a good kangaroo story. I'll try and think of one. I could tell you about how I got started sniping." "I would love to hear it." I relax against him. If there is time today, I could talk about my own early forays into my profession. If not, there will be other days. It is hard to imagine him as a much younger man-- hard to imagine him as a much older man, as well, this is the age he has grown into, the age it seems he is meant to be. It suits him. Still, I try, to imagine the gangly youth taking a rifle out the first time. Discovering an aptitude, or at least a passion, for the scope, the crack of the shot and the smell of the gunpowder, and the vast lonely land.
(Captcha says 'passers-by'... What do you know, Captcha?) ~~~Ch. 11~~~ Monday night does not go well. I am not blameless-- I lingered too long and got too little sleep. I am not the only one at fault, though, and Tuesday the whole team comes together for a strategy meeting. "I'm gonna have to say it." The Soldier says, pacing about the front of the little boardroom, his helmet in hands. "We're not holding the bridge half as well as those damn REDs." "Actually, we're holding the bridge exactly half as well as RED." The Engineer points out. "Here's the problem as I see it; we're breaking through pretty well, but we're having a real hard time holding the bridge on our end. What we need is to start out the way we been going, with the Doc taking Soldier up to the front." There's some nodding, a murmur of mixed approval and dissent. The Soldier and Medic had worked together once before, and as a pair they have managed to do a fine job clearing out the enemy's intelligence room, those are strong pros. As for cons, they have been doing this in every battle, and as effective a team as they are, we are losing ground on the bridge. "Doc overheals Solly, Solly jumps over their first line of defense and makes it to the intel room to clear out their second line of defense. That part works. Now here's where we need to make a change; once Solly's rocketed over the enemy Heavy, Doc needs to drop back and back up ours." "Nyet." The Heavy shakes his head. "Have sandvich, will be fine alone. Medic can go with Soldier, they are good team." "Nein." The Medic crosses his arms, speaking at the same time. "The Soldier and I have worked together before. I know what to anticipate. As long as someone can draw the enemy's fire long enough for me to slip through their front line after him, then we will be fine." "The Engineer is right." I step forward. "When you are lucky, you make it through with the Soldier, but when you are not, you wind up trying to make it through the sewers without being taken out by the RED Spy or the Pyro when you try to catch up. If you overheal him once at the start, he can make it through without your help. The RED Heavy has a Medic on him, through almost the entire battle, too often they are able to advance because our Heavy is unable to hold out against the both of them together." They glance at each other. "I am sure," I continue. "That the good doctor here is every bit as competent as the medic you used to work with." "Fine." Heavy relents. "We will see if it improves our performance." The Medic sighs. "Spy, if you and Solly can try and time your pushes to the intel room, between rocket strikes and sapping, we can keep their sentry down. If Scout starts out breaking through the front lines along with Solly, he can grab the intel while the rockets are taking out their defenses there, and you can grab the next one when you come in. If you make sure to take their sniper out early on, then Stretch here'll be able to focus on eliminating RED's medic. And if our Doc and Heavy can work as a team, then I don't have to worry none about re-arranging my buildings. I'll keep my nest up on the gantry and our Pyro'll keep up the spy checks. I know RED's pyro sometimes goes down into the sewers to head you off at the pass, is that right?" "Correct." "Yeah, well, we'll go ahead and let their spy get through, he won't make it to the intel without my sentry hitting him and he won't make it to the sentry without Pyro taking him out. Plus the airblast'll help when their soldier gets through. And it never hurts to have someone else trying to hit their scout." "I will make for the Sniper first, then." I smirk. "While the Scout and the Soldier are making for the RED intel. Once he is dispatched, I will re-secure the intelligence room if need be." "All right. Sounds like a plan." Engineer nods. "Everyone get some sleep." The Soldier orders. "I want you men up and at 'em first thing in the morn-- evening. Battle. I want you men ready and fighting fit." I salute with as much sarcasm as is physically possible and head down the hall towards my own quarters, and the Engineer falls in step with me. "Gotta say, I'm... I'm glad to know you're, you know, willing to... well, to off your friend." "Friend is not really the most accurate word... We know each other. We played cards in Teufort." "Well, whatever you want to call it, I was a mite worried about you being friendly with one of theirs. I remember when one of our soldiers and one of their demos got too pally, that sucked everyone in. I mean, every dang soldier we had got poured into that conflict, all over a couple guys catching a coupla baseball games together or what-have-you and not taking their jobs serious enough." "It is nothing you need to worry about, I promise. A good spy takes every opportunity to remove an enemy, and snipers are an easier target for backstabbing than most. And if you still worry about our 'friendship', let me assure you, he is terrible at cards. I have profited from more than a few wagers." He laughs. "Well. I guess that I have no problem with. You go on and take that boy for all he's worth if you want to. Long as the data going back to headquarters stays consistent, shouldn't nobody have any trouble." I sincerely hope this will be the case. After all, we have been careful a while now, to keep that data consistent. The Scout tears past us, and the Pyro jogs along in the boy's wake, and my conversation with the Engineer ceases. Goodnights are bid, we all retire. That night, everything begins according to plan. I climb up to his deck as he removes BLU's sniper from play, the heavies are filling each other with bullets, and once the Soldier has made it past the bridge, each heavy has a medic healing him, and their focus is on the ground between the two pairs. "Alone again." I tap my Sniper's shoulder. "Your turn, I believe." "Nice timing." He draws me into a kiss, and I close my eyes, anticipating the buzz of respawn. Instead, there is a shout, a booming gunshot, and a hot stab of pain. My eyes fly open, my Sniper's face is frozen in shock, and I am falling back. Another loud shot and he follows, kukri still in me, and not nearly so clean as usual. "Aw yeah! Hey-- You still alive?" BLU's scout-- idiot boy!-- kicks my Sniper off of me, off the edge of the deck. The pain of the kukri tearing out of me is worse than feeling it go in wrong, but I am still alive. "YO, DOC!" "Don't..." I gasp. "He is where he needs to be..." "Yeah. Not sure how the hell he'd get up here. How do you get up here? Dude, I don't think you can get down." I grunt, wrapping an arm around myself as the Scout tries to pull me up. "You're welcome, by the way. C'mon, we're both sitting ducks up here." The pain of being stabbed, the pain of the blade exiting, both of those are as nothing to the pain that comes when he slings my arm across his shoulders and leaps down from the deck with me. "You're pretty fucked." The Scout says bluntly. "Thank you, I hadn't noticed." I growl at him. "You should go find one of them health kits or something. I got some intel to capture. See you later, chucklenuts." He dashes off, and I collapse against the side of the building a moment. My Sniper's body has yet to disappear, and I tear my eyes away from the messy way he landed, already dead after the second shotgun blast to the back, but it does not make the unnatural angle of his neck any easier to look at. At least when I am the one to kill him, it is clean. At least when I do it, I know it was painless. I cloak and head back to the sewers. If I can make it the rest of the way to the supply room, I'll be fine. If not, well, I will still be fine, in a roundabout way. I am far from my own base still when I see the RED Spy from behind, and I uncloak. I can give him this one. He turns. "News?" "Not yet. One of my idiot teammates saved my life and left me far from aid." "Happy to help." He laughs. "It will probably be the only chance you get to beat me." I say. It is nice, to at least get in a little riposte, before he pulls the trigger. Besides, I do not think it is untrue. I have been outfighting him so far. It is on waking after respawn that everything comes to me with clarity. The scout did not say anything, perhaps did not realize in the heat of the moment, but he will have seen us kiss. Whether or not he puts that information to use, or even puts it together, remains to be seen, but the timing was such... He will have seen. Can it really be that he did not notice it at all? If the knowledge never catches up to him, all is well, but if it does... I race back across the train bridge, gutting RED's pyro on the way, and when I get to the deck, my Sniper is already there. "What happened?" He leans down to grab my hand and assist me in my climb up. "Scout. He seemed to think he was saving my life. It's possible he didn't realize... It is possible. But it is a lot to hope for, to think he won't." "Damn." He pulls me into another kiss, our bodies hugging the far side, the most cover it is possible to have on the open deck. "Are you all right?" "Fine. I am fine. I will keep an eye on things, with the boy. I just... I needed--" "Yeah. You should get going." "Really do it this time." I shake my head. He makes a quick scan of the field, first without his scope, then through it, before pulling the kukri and drawing me in. This time it is fast, this time I don't feel it. I head towards the intelligence, by my usual route, and pray for the best. I have not prayed so much in years. If I can make it through this crisis unscathed, I might even start to believe in it.
It's getting pretty funny how Sniper/Spy is becoming the most badly kept secret in this war.
"Get this lad properly drunk, tattooed, and laid." And then Scout wakes up in bed with Demo and a new tattoo of the BLU logo on his ass. I'm just catching up on this storyline now, but enjoying it a great deal.
>>42 For a spy, he's really sucking at secrecy... then again, it's possible the Scout was too wrapped up in the heat of the moment to notice the smooching... >>43 Oh man... that is a vision which is forevermore gloriously burned into my brain. Scout/Demo, the pairing I never knew I needed. Also, thank you! ~~~Ch. 12~~~ After the battle, I slink back to my room. When I emerge, it is to hear an argument just around the corner, the Scout, BLU's Sniper, and the Engineer. The subject I do not catch, but it is a three-way argument and not two men opposing one. "I just know what I saw and it wasn't like that." The Scout has the matter-of-fact assurance of a very young man. "Well excuse me, but between the two of us, I trust my eyes a hell of a lot more than I trust yours." "Fellas, not to insult either of you, but neither one of your stories sounds remotely possible to me." "Well you didn't see--" "Well I wouldn't believe just anything I saw. I believe in facts." "If you can see it, it's a fact." The sniper pushes. "Maybe, maybe not." The Engineer nods, as I come around the corner. He waves me over. "If you want to join us, we're heading down to dinner." "Certainly." I fall in step with him, glance to the others. The boy is on edge, the sniper is huffy, but the Engineer at least seems placid. "And what is this evening's debate?" "Weren't much of nothing. Nothing possible." The Engineer shoots a glare at both of the others. "You don't know it's not, though!" The Scout jogs ahead, facing backwards as he goes to talk. "I'm just saying, those RED guys are... They're just... Not like us. Weird. Creepy." "Wouldn't say they're all so different, on principle." The sniper shrugs, and when he glares, I am included along with the others. "It's a case by case thing, and some of 'em are nutjobs, but I can't vouch for every man on BLU." "One of their medics is a monster." I say. "The one I fought when I was at Teufort. He managed to keep my severed head alive in his refrigerator after one battle. I was there for days." "See!" The Scout looks imploringly to the Engineer. "Some of those guys are crazy creepy!" "Well, we're all on our guards around 'em anyway, I think it'll be fine." "I don't want to end up in nobody's fridge, man. Or nothing else, neither." "I think you're worrying over nothing. I saw more'n you did, and I reckon you're safe. For now, anyway." A silence descends, slightly ominous, and at least between those three, it continues through dinner. ---/-/--- Sometime between Tuesday night and Wednesday, the reply arrives from Coldfront, and I tear it open hastily as soon as I am alone with it. 'Monsieur, Thank you. I am quite interested to read more about the conditions at Doublecross, if there is anything more you can safely tell. I have never been stationed there myself. I am doing well enough at Coldfront. In terms of dress, I am better suited to the chill than some, and it is certainly a picturesque little base. I appreciate the offer you made me, though it is difficult to believe you do not mean to extract anything from me in return. Call it a professional hazard, but I do not accept kindness without question. I wonder just how similar a boat you are in. Well, there is little left to say, I think. Again, I appreciate the favor. If I have the opportunity to return it, I shall. -Coldfront' I take the letter with me, when I cross the footbridge to meet my Sniper. There are a few cigarette butts ground out in the dirt, beside the blanket on the ground, that were not there on Monday. "Tense?" I come up behind him. "Aren't you?" "We have not been mentioned, on my side. What the Scout sees and what he comprehends, there seems to be some difference." I reach up to knead at my Sniper's shoulders. "Your muscles are too tight." He just snorts and shakes his head. "Lie down, take off your vest at least. Perhaps your shirt as well. You don't want to be stiff tonight, do you? You will murder your back trying to work if you cannot relax at least a little before then." He strips to the waist and stretches out on his stomach, and I straddle his waist and dig my hands into the knots across his upper back, his neck and shoulders. "We need to cool it on the field." He sighs. "Yes... there is no good cover anymore. It is too open, where you are. I should never have forgotten myself." "Forgot myself a fair bit, too." "I just hate to kill you like you were one of the others." He groans, rolling one shoulder experimentally. "It's all right. How'd you get so damn good with your hands?" "Oh, cher, if you want to see good with my hands, you're going to have to roll over..." "Later. Tell me?" "Undercover work, a masseur at a resort spa. You would be surprised what people will talk about when they are relaxed..." "Uh-huh." Another deep groan. "Aw yeah..." "Maybe not too surprised... Some very important people were quite open with some very important plans, under these hands." "Oh, I'll bet." "And what about you? Would you... spill everything, to me?" I lean forward to whisper in his ear. "Oh, I'm wise to your torture, mister." He chuckles. "Take more than that to break me." "Oh? More? I can do more." I raise myself up. "Roll over, please, Monsieur, and we can continue your massage..." He rolls over, and I settle right back down, my ass resting in his lap. He lifts himself up on his elbows, but I push him back down. "This part of the massage standard?" "Well, when there is a table, I do not have to sit on my clients, but yes. So far." I rub his shoulders from the front, massage his arms and then his chest. "Are you putty in my hands yet?" "I got nothing to say." He smirks. "Hm. Well... I have never had to do this before, but... since you are such a... hardened mercenary." I unzip his fly. My eyes are on his face, as I stroke him, taking in every detail, the way his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back and flutter closed. I read the silent 'oh's on his lips, measure the soft-gasped breaths. He bites his lower lip and opens his eyes, lifts himself up again so that he can watch my hand slide over his cock. The barest sound of a grunt escapes even when he tries to stay silent, as he comes over my hand and his own stomach. "Relaxed?" I tease, before dragging my tongue up his belly, feeling his muscles twitch as I taste him. "Guess you got me to spill everything." He grins at me, loose and dazed. "It's a dangerous job, but somebody has to do it." He laughs and pulls me into his arms. We kiss, and I grind down into him. "Guess it's time I returned the favour..." He nibbles at my bottom lip before pushing me off. "And I guess you can't go back over t'your base with any suspicious stains on that fancy suit of yours..." He sucks me, hard and fast once he has me free of my pants, his tongue stroking at the underside of my cock. He hums and I come apart. We lie together a little longer, as long as we can afford to stay, and we speak of nothing terribly consequential, between puffs of smoke and lazy kisses. "Take this to your spy," I hand him the letter from Coldfront. "RED's spy." He taps one finger against my chest. "You're my Spy." All in all, it shouldn't make me feel quite so warm, quite so... so filled with butterflies, maybe. "Very well." I say. "But take it to him. He will want to have it. I would, if I were separated from you. Even if you were writing to someone else, I would want to have it." "Sure. And it's what he wants in exchange for lying for us." "How long do you think we will have? Before they change it all again?" "Went a long time before they changed things the first time." He touches my cheek. "Come on, we were having a good time. Don't go all melancholy on me now." "I just asked a question." I lean forward to kiss him. "I will see you on Saturday?" "Always. I got nothing better to do than wait around for you..." "I should go get some sleep... as should you." I sigh. He kisses me one last time. "Yeah, get on, then. Saturday." "Saturday." I return 'home' with at least a little hope. Delivering the letter should have secured us an ally. The Scout has said nothing about seeing us kiss, and I have never seen a scout who knew to keep his mouth closed. There is no one on my team he could have told who would not have started up some fuss. Saturday I can tell some story that means something, a better one than the masseur incident. I can listen to another tale of survival. I feel I know him so well, but I have in no way exhausted his inner self of information. I feel I have given so much of myself, but there are worlds yet to share. It is the first time, that I have made the sharing of personal information a mutual thing, with someone. I have slept with people, and aimed to learn them inside out as quickly as possible. Now, I want to be known. Now I feel comfortable in the slow unraveling of another person, the natural unfolding of a relationship, unpacking the box of my soul and piling everything of me in with everything of someone else in degrees. Maybe I will never know everything about him. Maybe, for once, that is not the point. Not the point to have some kind of edge, when it comes to knowing and being known by someone. For the first time, it feels like the entire point is in the getting-to-know, and the idea that it might take years to learn someone is a comfort and not a challenge. If I go to my grave giving more secrets than I take, that is fine, I have more than an ordinary number of secrets to share. These revelations ought to be frightening, not comforting. For men in our positions in things, this all ought to be frightening. Instead I just want Saturday to come so that I can talk about growing up and about favourite meals and about a million stupid things. For a little while, on Saturday, I will be stupid, and it will be completely fine to be. I will feel young and handsome and foolish and unguarded with someone and I will love it. Funny, but I will love it. I will hand over the keys to my soul and not fear a thing from him. Even if it is only an hour on Saturday, for that hour we will both be away from our bases, and happy.
'"RED's spy." He taps one finger against my chest. "You're my Spy."' D'awwwwwwwwwww. I hope someday I can find someone who loves me as much as these two love each other.
~~~Ch. 13~~~ Everyone is tense on Thursday, a quiet thing that builds throughout the off-duty hours with every man regarding the rest of the team with fraught looks and skepticism. No one speaks the subject, and when the battle starts Thursday night, the team rushes the field with ferocity. The issues may begin at home, but they carry well into the fight. On Friday, we are all pulled from our beds, the booming loudspeakers herding us into the supply chamber, and from there we are teleported into headquarters. "What is happening?" I grab the Engineer's arm. "It is too soon to change bases again. We were given no warning." "Special circumstances." He frowns. There are no other full teams gathered in the room with us, but I see two of my fellow BLU spies. When the woman with the clipboard arrives, they are summoned along with my teammates, but I am not. I am in the waiting room for hours, before the woman comes to tell me everything has been arranged to the company's satisfaction. "Enjoy your new base." She tells me, in a manner which suggests she knows I will not. The supply room I am teleported into is frigid, similar to all the supply rooms, but without any familiar hallmarks to set it apart in the mind as one I have frequented before. The Engineer and the Heavy from my most recent team are with me, and the Sniper. As for the Pyro, who knows. The Medic I do not know. The Scout, Soldier, and Demoman are not in evidence, and I can only assume that we will be working with whoever already holds those positions here. Wherever here is... "Doktor!" The Heavy, at least, recognizes the new Medic, if the bone-crushing hug he sweeps him into is any indication. The others greet each other more casually. "Special circumstances?" I take the Engineer's arm again. Tomorrow is Saturday, and I have no way of knowing if it is even possible for me to reach the town near Doublecross, I do not even know where it is I am. He holds me back a moment, as the Heavy and Medic leave. The Pyro hovers at the doorway, and the Sniper makes no move to go. After a moment, the Engineer sighs, looking between the three of us. "I want you to know, I went to the mat for you." The Engineer says. "I want you to know I didn't." The Sniper tells me, before loping off. The Pyro says nothing, and goes nowhere. "What happened?" "You done got found out, boy. And since you and your little... friend, were already killing each other couple-few times every week, wasn't no way of starting another war-within-a-war. You're damn lucky they figured they could just separate you, it was a clerical error landed you in the same place twice in a row anyway." "The Scout." I sink weakly to the floor, tile freezing through my suit. "He saw us." "Nothing you couldn'ta got away with, but he wasn't the only one. Once it came out RED's Sniper was actually helping you get up on his deck, Demo reckoned you two always left the bar together and it all hit the fan. Turns out you been sneaking off the base during the week? You can't get across the bridge during the day..." "No... No, who-- How--?" "Medic spotted you leaving once, Soldier's heard you creep back in. You got lazy, but wasn't really a coherent story anyone could put together out of it all." "You argued to keep me on?" "They can't afford to lose any more spies." He says tightly. "You still do your job. But I was the defense, guess you might say. They called in a couple of your colleagues, and the fella from Coldfront volunteered right quick to switch places with you." "Of course he did." My gut twists. Suppose it hadn't been my teams suspicions in the end? Suppose none of them had a story that would hang together, not without the other spies' help... I employed the little-used goodness of my heart on seeing so much of my plight in theirs, but if things were reversed... If it had been me, separated from my Sniper, and someone had handed me his location and intimated a similar crime? I would not hesitate a moment, I would go straight to my employers and demand that the men in question be separated, and I would certainly suggest that I might take that other spy's place, preferring the climate of another base. It is certainly no stretch to think he had something to do with it, but I cannot be sure. If it's true that enough of my teammates caught me in my less-than-stealthy moments, he could be blameless, and if he is not at fault, there is no good in my unearthing his secrets. I need to find out whose idea it was to go to BLU and whose testimony has damned me. "Come on." The Engineer tugs at my elbow until I stand. "Let's get settled in." "Wait-- Why are you here as well? Could you not have stayed?" "They shuffled the heavies around to get better cohesion with the docs, and I couldn't tell you why the Sniper's not back in Doublecross. Pyro stuck with me, and I guess I stuck with you." He shrugs. "No. No." I shake my head. "What about your lady?" "I wasn't ever gonna talk to her anyway." "You shouldn't have tried to protect me. As you say, with numbers as they are, I am not expendable. You could have stayed." "It's fine." He says. The guilt I am completely unaccustomed to. He leaves the supply room with his head down and his shoulders slumped, he is miserable on my account, and I... I wish that he was not. I hurry after him. "I'm not used to having friends." I say. "It's fine, Spy." "I just-- I don't know. Perhaps because I have never done anything in my life to deserve one. I'm sorry." "Yeah, well. Me too." I find my way to the room set aside for my use, eventually. My things have even been switched out already for those of the other spy. I toe off my shoes and climb into the bed, pulling the blankets up around my ears. I need to figure out who is to blame first. If it is the Spy, then it is useless to try using him to send word to my Sniper. If it is not him, I could ask him to pass some word along, through the same circuitous route I had used to help him, but I do not dare risk it now. Love really has made me an idiot... No more. I find out who else there is to blame, that is my first step. I try to make it up to the Engineer, who did not have to be as pathetic and lonely as I now must be, that is important as well. When I learn who was most instrumental in my downfall, I will bring ruin on him, that is a step. I find a way of sending some word to my Sniper, I cannot let him think I have been permanently removed, and I cannot trust that my replacement will be reassuring. For now... For now, I have missed a night's sleep, and I have to adjust to Coldfront's schedule before the new week begins. Once I've rested, I can begin, if I can only figure out how to begin...
noooooo!
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)