Because I'm not sleeping and my brain won't shut up, and because I once promised to write shell-shocked Spy. This one is in here for the violence, not for the sex. Different POVs throughout, but each one in its own chapter, to avoid any POV switch confusion. And this first bit is 3rd person omnicient. ~~~1: Before~~~ Before, he is deadly. He is a man of finesse, of stealth and speed and of cunning. His hand is deft, his arsenal is unending. He knows a million things, ways to kill a man or to make him wish he had died, ways to disable an enemy, to destroy obstacles and steal secrets. Before, men do not fear him-- those with the constitution weak enough never even know of his presence until it is far too late for fear. The men RED sets against him do not fear much, in general, but they respect him. Each individual man knows the dangers he can pose. The Heavy knows that while he thunders ever forward, he cannot watch his back, or the Medic's. He knows that there will always be times, when he turns to the doctor and fails to recognize the mask of a stranger instead. The Scout knows even he needs to rest sometimes, and it's always the second he stops moving when the invisible bastard will lurch out of the shadows, out of thin air, and the last thing he knows before death sweeps him off might be a gloved hand yanking harshly at his headset and the mocking falsetto crowing over his fall. The Soldier knows that as much as he tries to dismiss the enemy Frenchman as a lousy coward, he's been taken by surprise, and he never says it aloud, but he knows that when backed into a corner and faced with the blade end of a shovel, the wily little frog is brave, even ferocious. The Demoman knows that a well-timed stabbing can render the most perfectly planned ambush useless as his ruined eye, and he knows those ambushes are no good if his good eye can't see his prey coming. The Engineer knows, and better than most, what a hard opponent the Spy can be. His constant wariness doesn't always save his sentries, or his skin. Worse, the Spy is always so gleeful about the destruction of his buildings. The Sniper knows when his eye is stuck to his scope, he's the biggest target on that battlefield for the spook. He's been sent through respawn more times than he cares to count or could recall, and even his jury-rigged shield hadn't done him a lick of good once the Ambassador came into play. The RED Spy knows in and out the kind of skill their job takes, the kind of man he faces. He is no worse, but he knows better than to underestimate a worthy foe. The Medic knows that any one of the calls he fields day in and day out could be a spy, but the battles are too frantic for him to check every time, when it could be an ally in desperate need of healing. Still, he knows, it is not always his ally, and his 'tender mercies' were not always repaid with a hearty thanks. The Pyro knows that he can't be there every time. He knows that some days he'll run out of fuel far from a dispenser, some days he'll be turned the wrong way. And he knows without a shadow of a doubt that when those days come, the Spy will want to get rid of him most of all.
Well colour me waiting eagarly at my computer for more! This is a great take so far, I really can't wait to see what you come up with.
~~~2: Incident~~~ When my luck does run dry, the pain is incredible, hot and sharp across the back of my head, and for a moment the world seems to swim in blood, my eyeballs feel like they boil in my skull. My head pounds, and I hardly feel it when I fall, the blow is everything. I only know suddenly I am on the ground, insults spat down on me from above, but also threats. He knows, he knows I am not yet finished... the wrong watch, I have the wrong watch, I cannot crawl away and leave a doppelganger behind, the meaty smack of a melee weapon against a thick-skinned palm, he means to beat me to death... It would not be the first time, the Scout frequently relies upon his bat, but the Scout is all speed even then. Even then he means to dispatch you quickly. The Soldier often falls back on his shovel, going into a mad frenzy, and I have died that way as well, but it is still over quickly, if I am not able to fight him off. The kukri or the bonesaw or the axe, I've seen them all and while it is never a pleasant thing, while those deaths are often savage, they are never... Never... I have never felt panicked like this on the field before. There is a line of defense that I breached but did not destroy, and now... and now... Now that is what will allow him to make me suffer. I fumble to get a hold of my gun, only to have it smacked from my hand, one finger snaps and even that is merely a little distraction from the pain in my head. I do not scream. I will not scream. The knife can do little good, range and positioning are on his side, but I grab for it anyway, as I try to drag myself backwards, as I kick out only to have one foot stomped on hard, and my ankle twists to the side. Another little bone shatters, somewhere in my foot. I bite my lip until it bleeds and I whimper but I do not scream. I won't. He does not even swing down at me, just stares, impassive, just takes step after slow step in my wake, the thwack of weapon in hand a metronome, and now I cannot stand, now I can only try to drag myself away, on my back, one hand tucked into my jacket and wrapped broken around my knife, one arm and one leg desperate to propel me back but he just advances. My ears ring, and I can see his lips move, even with his face cast in shadow, but I cannot hear his words clearly. Still, I understand the message. I will suffer. There will be no more clean blows, this I understand. He will hit me soft enough to let me last, the tide of the fight is still too far from where we two remain. I open my mouth, I will not scream, but if I can call for a Medic... either someone will come, or he will kill me quickly to keep me from shouting. Instead, no words come. I have no voice, I cannot... Through the ringing I still hear the constants, the rage of the battle going just around the corner, the steady tormenting slap of flesh on metal, the beep of the sentry I never sapped. I can hear my own heart thundering like a man at the end of a marathon. I am at the end of my Marathon. Another blow. My knee explodes, and when I clench my hand reflexively, the pain there is practically a relief. I do not scream. I will not scream. He laughs. I don't hear it, but I see it, the shake of his shoulders, his teeth gleaming white even in the shadows, the horrible grin and the hollow stare that never blinks and I have never felt so... So... It breaks then, the tide of battle, our forces charging around the corner and theirs hot on the heels, so there is not a moment to spare when the Soldier's rocket blasts my own personal demon in half. With one arm and one leg I crawl away, through the shadows, around the corner. Through the dirt and the gravel, through the splitting searing pain and the blood thick in my mouth, until I have wedged myself into a place where no one will find me. All this on instinct, all this on sheer blind will. The pain is exhausting. When I open my mouth again to cry out for the Medic, I can only croak. My eyelids are heavy. My limbs are heavy. My heart is pounding, angry, contrary, spitting in the face of better judgment when I only want to die. The heart will not stop, relief will not come. I spit out blood, spit out one and a half teeth, a half... I do not even dare touch the ache at the base of my skull for knowing my fingers will come away sticky. Red. The Medic will not come. I cannot call out. All this and I will not die, why will I not die? I can still hear them. No. No, I still... I can still hear him. I can still hear the laugh I did not even hear the first time, the smack smack smack the beeping and the laugh, and he looks down at me when my eyes close but then it is too much, to open them again. No one is coming for me. Not even to kill me. No one is coming and it does not even matter. Everything... everything is fuzzy, indistinct. The world is soft except for the pain. Every breath I draw and it throbs new in my hand, my foot, my knee, my skull, my heart and lungs but still they won't quit. The first time I saw a man die I was eleven. It was horrifying then and now... Now I can only envy him. A single bullet. How neat, how wonderful, a single bullet and then oblivion. I had been hiding and I should not have seen and I thought for sure the murderers would find me too. I had been small then, skinny even for a poor boy my age, crammed behind two barrels shuddering and afraid, a tender age for anyone to witness their first execution. I feel eleven now. Eyes closed I see myself on the ground with my skull fractured and my hand fractured, my foot, my knee, cheek split, see me dirty bloody ruined, and I see myself as I was then watching and shaking with silent tears on my cheeks, and I see my eyes glassy and dead staring back at me, at one of me, until it is all too jumbled up and I do not know what it is I see. After that it is not even images, not clearly. I see shapes and colours, I still feel the pain, ebbing only to surge again when I think I might finally sleep. I do not hear the battle. I do not know what time it is. I do not know where I am. I am eleven. No. No, that's not... I am eleven. I am in the charcuterie. NO. I am eleven. I am in the charcuterie where there are never any pork sausages and the owner is a friendly man with a thin beard who butchers all of his own meat. That's not true! I am eleven. I am in the charcuterie where there are never any pork sausages and the owner is a friendly man with a thin beard who butchers all of his own meat. I am hiding. I cannot understand the shouts, only the gunshot that ends the shouting. I am a grown man, a professional, I am fighting in a war. I am eleven. I have never seen a dead body before. I have never known anyone who died. I have killed men, some I kill again and again, some of the men I have killed will never respawn. I am eleven. I have never seen a dead body before. I have never known anyone who died. He told me to go before the door opened and I hid. Hardened professional, I have died myself, many times, it is like nothing. Eleven. There is so much blood. More than that, brains and bone and the hole is not small or neat and when I am alone I weep because I have never Killed thousands of times, died thousands of times, stop it, stop it, stop it Eleven, and nothing like this has ever happened to me before Fine I will be fine when I respawn fine will be eleven and blood but never stop it never never never screamed, I will not scream. I will not scream. I will not scream.
Ho man, the psychological turmoil This Spy is going through is giving me a hard-on! The absolute pain he is going through, both physical and mental, is absolutely thrilling! Wonderfully written as always Anne!
You have my complete and undivided attention. Besides being grateful to you for writing my prompt, I'm also happy that the fic is going to me multi-chapter. I was expecting a quality one-shot in your "fills requests and whatnot" thread, Im very pleasantly surprised that it's going to be quality AND quantity :D I must admit I'm a bit worried. So far all of your fics have had a happy ending (or at least a "you choose one of two possible endings" option with TSIB), which is my personal preference by far. Here, on the one hand I really really want a happy ending, but on the other hand shell shock is such a serious issue that it would be extremely difficult to make that happen (without resorting to the ridiculusly simplicistic "the magical healing cock instantly makes it all better!" trope, that is). I'll wait and see.
Is this the spy from your previous fix that was mentioned earlier in shuffle?
Oh my yes.
Oh god the blood trail he must have left. Poor Spy. And I second what Anon 5 said.
>>6 'Tis indeed. (And thanks, everybody!) ~~~3: Discovery~~~ It's after dark and no one's seen hide nor hair of the Spy. It isn't always so strange for him to disappear for a bit, but he was on the cleanup team for tonight, and much as no one likes doing it, he's pretty conscientious about taking his turn. Everybody has to, after all. "Spy!" I call, heading past one of the capture points. Funny seeing it all dark... always lit up like a beacon during the day when the fight's on. "Spy!" I can hear the doc off a ways. "Dammit, Spy!" Soldier back near to the base, thundering around. "Spy?!" Heavy, banging one fist on the doorway of an outbuilding between the bases. "Yo, Spy!" The Scout moving faster than the rest of us, checking up high. I can't hear Demo calling, but he's out back of the base, and Pyro's in the kitchen with one walkie-talkie, and me with the other. "Oi, Spook!" The Sniper, kicking around, same level as the Scout but not moving half so fast. Longer we look and the longer we don't find him, the more worried I get. Had a bad feeling about it when I knocked on his door and he wasn't there, but we gave him hours to do whatever it was he had to do on his lonesome, and he never showed, not anywhere. "Spy?" I hear something, sheer dumb luck I do, and he's crawled under a building, between the supports. Even in the dark I can see the rusty stains on the ground outside. "Spy! DOC! Doc, get over here, I found him!" There's a high keening noise from under the building and that just ain't right. I've seen that man get blown apart but I never heard a sound like that come out of him. "Spy?" I hunker down to reach for him. "Doc's coming if you're hurt, and then we can get you back to base." "Where is he? You said you found him?" The Spy's started hyperventilating, and the Medic's eyes follow along my arm. With a shrug, he fires up the medigun and aims into the deep dark shadows. The hyperventilating's slow to stop, and even healed up, he doesn't come out, I have to half-drag him. In the open, he's fine... he ought to be, least. Dirty, but not hurt anymore. Shaking, though, shaking bad. Still, he accepts the Medic's help getting to his feet, and for a moment he's almost fine. For a moment I think he could be. Doc mutters to himself, under his breath and nothing I can make out, and the Spy collapses in on himself. "Spy!" I reach out for him, but he's already on the ground and balled up. The Doc's as surprised by it as I am, but the Heavy shows up without anyone calling for him, and just picks the Spy up like a sack of potatoes and carries him back. Spy's downright catatonic when we put him in the infirmary, and the Doc's not surprised anymore, just resigned. "Shell shock." He says. "Battle fatigue, if you prefer. It happens, though... though I have never seen it in this war. Whatever happened is still happening, for him." "So... so fix it." "Not every problem is so easy to fix. I have never treated a thing like this. I would not know where to begin. It is the mind, not the body..." "... Spy?" I put a hand on his arm. He jumps, but not so bad this time at least. I take off my goggles, and he relaxes just a little, nods to me even though he doesn't say anything. "You feeling all right? Doc's done all he can for you just now, but... But tell you what, you take tomorrow off-- long as you stay back here in the restricted area, none of those RED mother hubbards'll be able to get to you. You'll take tomorrow off and then see how you're doing. Sound all right?" He looks down at his lap for a long moment and shrugs. "Go on and rest. Pyro went and did the dishes for you, and we can manage a day or two without you on the field, that's what you need. I mean... I mean, it's battle fatigue, right? So... so rest ought to do the trick, don't you think?" The doc shakes his head at me, but the Spy just nods quietly. He spends the night in the infirmary, even though he doesn't so much need to. He could head to his own quarters any time, but in the morning, that's where he is still. In the morning, I still can't get him to talk to me. I talk-- and I know I get through to him, he looks at me, he nods or shakes his head, he listens, he just never talks. Scout comes by after battle and bothers him 'til I kick the boy out. "What's wrong with you?" I ask, shoving him into the hall with one hand on the scruff of his shirt. "Let the man rest." "So what the hell's wrong with him?" Scout looks down at me, brow drawn. "Why... Why isn't he normal?" "Let him rest a bit. He'll... he'll get back to normal. Just needs a break. Survived a heck of a lot yesterday that maybe... maybe he shouldn't have, I don't know. He's a little rattled, he'll be fine. Just needs a rest. Everyone does eventually." "Psh, I don't." "You're still young." "Whatever." He shrugs and squirms away. "He'll be normal pretty soon, right?" "Course he will." I say, even though I can't know myself.
Scout is probably really freaked out, bothering Spy with not one scathing remark coming out of the man. In his own obnoxious way, Scout's really concerned.
I'm a total sucker for team unity, so this chapter made me especially happy. Even if those guys aren't going to stay together for long, it's good to see that while they are together they look out for each other.
Thanks! (I'm glad Scout's concern showed through his jerkass facade. I imagine him being very freaked out by seeing someone else actually suffering from any kind of ill after-affect.) (I'm kind of a huge sucker for friendshippy/team unity stuff too, even though I haven't written much of it) And now, the reactions from RED... ~~~4: Heavy~~~ Something is wrong with BLU Spy. Yesterday he appears on battlefield, in front of Sasha. This could be trick, so of course do not stop shooting, but... This I shrug away. Bad timing, this happens to everybody. Once or twice I run straight into BLU sentry gun by mistake. Sometimes I am in middle of sandwich when BLU Scout-- of all people!-- comes and hits me. Things get dark, I wake up later just fine, but some time passes away from battle. Today, though... Today Doktor turns around and BLU Spy is there, but... Doktor kills him, easy. Next time this happens, Doktor and I are shouting to each other and hear noise, BLU Spy is behind Doktor again but now he is not even trying, just... Was not like this before. BLU team is babies, but not like this. This is not like fighting man trained for killing, not like fighting any man at all. For three days we ignore this, but... no change. No sport in killing man like that. If BLU Spy walks in front of Sasha, then he dies, like rest of coward BLU team, but... Don't know. We have stopped worrying that he might come up behind us. Almost feel bad, even, to kill him now, but this is job... Keep waiting now, for BLU team to have new Spy instead. Can tell from across the field when it is not. Can tell... can tell something is just wrong. I make Doktor promise, this will never happen to either of us. Could not live if I could not fight. Not sure what we could do, if I ever became... scared-- haunted. If BLU team never replaces this Spy, would RED never replace me? Would die, maybe, but... but even when I think sometimes I am dead, soon I am fine again and Doktor is there with me... and this Spy I kill many times, he is still alive after each one and still this way. So, now, mostly, try to avoid thinking about BLU Spy. Try to avoid seeing BLU Spy on battlefield. If he is there, I kill him quickly. No man stands up to Sasha for very long, is easy. Maybe easier than not dying, for him. Is break, anyway. Cannot say if letting BLU Spy live is kinder, think sometimes it is worse. Either way, never ends...
Bawww Also, I'm wondering how often we have narration or inner monologue from Heavy. Seems to me not often enough!
Seeing a ruined man from the other side of the battle is chilling. I think this works much better than if you'd tried to narrate what the BLU Spy is thinking or feeling, which I imagine is somewhat repetitive right now. This was a great choice.
Thanks kindly! Enjoyed trying out some Heavy inner monologue, though it turned out short... they all probably will, at least a bit. If I recall aright, the enemy POV was a part of the prompt, but yes... doing all the encounters from the BLU Spy's POV would lose its sting after a while... (well, we've had the BLU Scout being unnerved, now for the RED Scout...) ~~~5: Scout~~~ Okay, so I don't know what's even going on with the Spy. Is this, like, a game? Is he trying to mess me up? That's what I thought, anyway, I thought that for a while, because he was just messing up all over the place like he never does and I thought for sure it was a trick, 'cause he went down so easy and he was just standing there like he WANTED me to hit him, so I hit him but I figure, he's still there, he just dropped one of those damn freaky holograms, that is some sci-fi shit there and he's trying to... trying to, you know, LULL you. Lull you right into a false sense of security and then BAM! There's a knife in your freaking back and you're dead. So I didn't slow down for a second 'cause I figure for sure he wants to get behind me 'cause he thinks I think I killed him but I didn't. No way he can catch up to me, though, I'm zig-zagging, I'm left, I'm right, I am way too fast for that sneaky bastard. You think he'd give it up when that shit plain don't work on me, right? It just kept happening, though. So one time I waited. Just waited and made fun of his fake corpse some, but... Like, it wasn't. It wasn't one of those fake corpses at all, it was him, I really just killed him and he didn't do nothing about it. That creeped me the fuck out, because it's one thing if he's doing his mind game thing and I'm just too fast for him, I mean, you EXPECT that out of a spy. He used to be pretty hard to kill-- I mean, I killed him plenty of times before, sure! But it took some work, you know? It took my skills! Now it's just... Maybe he got a Dear John letter from his old lady or maybe he's got a brother who bit it or maybe he's sick or something, I don't know what's messing him up, just know that brother, he's messed up. Then one time today... today he gets lucky. I'm lying there bleeding out and I can feel it, you know, right between the shoulders, I'm dying here, and I look up and he's looking down at me and I'm just waiting for it, right? Cause all week I been taking advantage of whatever's taking his head out of the game. I didn't go easy on that punk at all. So he's gonna grab my headset and try telling everyone I got a rainbow problem or something, or he's gonna call me a virgin-- which I'm not, 'cause what I did with Sue Ellen behind the bleachers my senior year counted, right? It didn't count for her on account of she didn't want to get knocked up, and I know her sister had to take a nine month 'vacation' when she was seventeen or something, but it counted for me. Spy doesn't say a fucking thing. Not one word. He just stares down at me like he's not even sure what he's looking at until his head gets fucking blown OFF and we're both dead. Creepiest thing ever happened to me, and that's including the time the doc said I was up for my mandatory examination but then he rooted around in my intestines and I was awake for most of that shit and stuff he did was not normal 'exam' stuff. But the look on that BLU Spy's face was worse. A hundred times worse. I kill him the second I see him, after that, every time, and I stay the fuck away from where I think he might come back to, because I never want to see that again. I mean, hell no is that bastard gonna put me down again, not like this. I don't know what's wrong with him, but I'm not putting up with it, right? Shit's not normal, and he better watch it. I mean, he just better.
~~~6: Soldier~~~ The enemy Spy's gone soft. Not sure what to do about that... fight him, I guess. It's easier now than it used to be. Besides... Besides, Sun-Tzu... The enemy Spy's gone soft. I've asked the men about it, of course. They're shy about speaking up sometimes, the men. Mostly, I'm interested in what HE has to say about it-- Private BLU Spy's Head. It seems like he'd have the best grasp on what... well, what's going on inside the BLU Spy's head. He used to be that head, so... Or... something. I'm not sure exactly. Just sometimes the respawn glitches and pieces get left behind even when you respawn whole on the other side. That's how I got them, after all. It took a long time to collect the whole set! Most of the time, there's nothing left. I've had a lot of heads disappear on me! I ask, though. Because I'm not sure what to do about the BLU Spy now that his head's not on straight. I mean, his... I mean... The enemy spy's gone soft. It bothers me. My job is killing MEN. I saw him cry. That's just not right! And I don't mean crying because you rip a man's arm out of its socket and shove it down his throat, sometimes that's just a reflex, because it's hard to breathe around your own arm shoved down your throat and it pushes up on the roof of your mouth and then the roof of your mouth compresses your tear ducts. You know, science. But he didn't have his arm shoved down his throat, it hadn't even been ripped off! He was just... The enemy spy's gone soft. He's soft and weak and unmanly now, and Private BLU Spy's Head hasn't shared any of his thoughts with me on the matter and I don't know what to do about it. Honestly, it makes me feel kind of... kind of sick, killing him now. They shouldn't be keeping him on the payroll like this, it's not really fair. I let Private BLU Spy's Head know about my plan to ignore the weak, sad little man he used to be a part of. He doesn't say anything, of course, likes to play it all close to the vest, and that's a good thing in a man sometimes, but I can tell he approves. War's for fighting real men, after all, and when he was on the spy's shoulders, they understood that. They fought like a champion, if you got 'em in a corner, where they couldn't fall back on being a sneaky coward. He's not even sneaky anymore. The enemy spy's gone soft. War's for fighting real men. I think ignoring him's the best way to go about it. If he starts fighting again, then so will I. If he doesn't, well, there are eight other men looking for a taste of Lady Liberty and a good smacking with a shovel.
"I saw him cry. That's just not right" D'Aww. Also, I like the explanation of how soldier got his heads.
"You know, science." Bahahaha. Of course, Soldier. Of course.
Interesting how one of Scout's first guesses about Spy's problem is that his brother died. A nice bit of characterization, obvious yet not in-your-face.
This fic appeals to me personally because my father is a 70-year-old veteran suffering from PTSD. He plays Soldier, by the way, and he's pretty damn good at it.
Thank you, all! >>17 (There is just something about the TF2 universe where... I don't know, I really love coming up with reasons for how things work, how to integrate gameplay stuff with story stuff in a way that makes some degree of sense. It's a really fascinating world to play in, from that perspective) >>18 (I kind of like trying to think like Soldier... but I wouldn't want to do it for very long-- still, it nets some interesting ideas of what 'science' is...) >>19 Ah, glad you think so! I'm really enjoying trying to reveal something about the POV character even as I'm detailing how the BLU Spy is getting on. >>20 I'm A) glad to hear it, and B) now terrified of messing up. Though I've read a whole lot about the subject, so I am really trying for some kind of realism and sensitivity in among the general TF2ery and not flying totally blind... ~~~7: Demoman~~~ I've been ignoring the Spy a while... Don't think he's taken to drinking-- I mean, look at me. I'm tight as an owl every morning I take the field, and I do just fine for myself. Something, though, taken a man from a competent professional to... Oh, I don't even know. Depressing to think too much on, anyway. Think about that long enough and it's enough to drive a man to-- Well... Still, I let him wander past intact, whenever he does come through any ambushes I set up. Used to be he'd take me out before I had a chance to blow 'em, now... Sometimes he still manages. Funny, him being the enemy and all, but I almost feel... Almost feel proud of the little bastard now, when he pulls himself together enough I don't see him coming. I mean, me with only one eye, it shouldn't be that hard, and I wager it never used to be, all the stickies left un-blown, traps un-sprung, but that was when he was at the top of his game and not the... Bottom. Of his game. So if he's doing well and all, I don't think too much about it one way or the other, swinging a bottle into his head. And I mean that's if he's sneaking up and I catch him in time. I mean, good for him, poor boy, since whatever's taken him took him. If he's doing well and all, then God help him or the devil take him, I'll fight all comers. But when he's not-- and you can tell, you can tell a ways off what kind of a day he's having. Not day even, what kind of... moment, I guess you'd say. When he's not, I just ignore him. Don't know why it should bother me. I've killed just about all of them, good day or bad, and nobody is on top all of the time. You learn... you learn to take advantage, just a little bit, when somebody's having an off day. Hell, I... I couldn't tell you how many times I blew my own best friend to smithereens! I do feel bad for that, of course. Of course I feel bad for that, every day I... The Spy, though, I mean. It's more than an off day for him. Even when he's himself, he's not himself. You'll see him-- or not see him!-- run through the war like he used to, but when he puts you down now, it's different. He's different. Maybe... Hell, maybe I do know how he feels. He used to have a laugh over it all. When he was winning? He'd enjoy it. We all would. Most everyone still does. The war hasn't been fun for me, not since-- I mean, I can enjoy a well-played round, I still love seeing a good explosion go up without a hitch, I'd still rather win than lose. Maybe that's all... maybe it just... isn't fun anymore.
I like this so much. All of them show compassion in their own way and their personalities have shown through in each one so far. I especially loved the nod towards Jane in Demo's. Also, my official/initial head-canon is generally that bits sometimes got left behind. It's not unlike a computer still having the data for a deleted file until it replaces that bit with another. I would say more but I don't have the words. This is too touching.
Nice Demo characterization! He doesn’t normally get that much attention. I even tried reading the whole fic through with a thick scottish accent, didn’t work. Can’t wait for the next update
Thanks much! (True, never enough Demo...) ~~~8: Engineer (RED)~~~ Spy came around my nest today. First time in a week and a half I seen so much as a shadow of the sneaky so-and-so, too. In all honesty, a part of me was looking forward to it. Why, I couldn't tell you. Heard from the rest of the team he's been squirrely. Maybe that's a part of it, wanting to see for myself what exactly 'squirrely' meant. I mean, when's a Spy anything but? And the jury's out on what it means, whether he's crazy or sick or playing a game with all of us. Besides, like a good fight now and then. Keeps the days interesting, after all... So, I guess I saw for myself all right. Little sneak just about got me, too, I tell you what. Boy coulda-shoulda taken me out when he was invisible and I was alone. Happened before enough times, up til he started going funny or whatever... I was upgrading my sentry-- beauty of a job, that one, that was a gun to be proud of, you know? Kind of handiwork a man can take real pride in, and I don't mind saying it if it's true. One of the best of my career, if I had to rank 'em. And I was working alone, too, nobody else guarding the nest or coming by to make use of the dispenser. Heard his cloak go, so I turn around right quick, you better believe I do. Can't be fast enough dealing with spies, leastaways never could in the past. And he's standing there, his hand up in the air and he's barely holding onto that knife of his and boy howdy is there some real fear in his eyes. Sentry made short work of him, course. I just stepped back and let it, he wasn't making any moves. There'd be some satisfaction in it, if he was. Heck, I've beat him down before, any time I could. If I could get him in time? You bet your life I'd have more than a few strong words for the backstabbing sneak always trying to sap my work, there ain't a weapon in my arsenal I haven't turned against him. I won't lie, either, I can be mean about it. When I've had one heck of a day suffering at his hands? I'm not proud to say it, but I can be downright nasty when we're on a losing streak. None of us here are angels. Still, I don't like to think I'm the worst there is or anything. And if anybody deserved it... But he stopped completely, I mean dead in his tracks, and I couldn't tell you why. Not much satisfaction in shooting at a statue. Let the sentry handle that, but... I can see why the fellas have been calling him squirrely, anyway. Well, calling him more than a few things. And I don't think it's some master plan, neither, much as the Scout's called it mind games. I was inclined to agree, before I saw it for myself, because mind games sure sounds like the Spy I used to fight with. All the men on the field, he always got my dander up the worst, and he knew it, and I don't doubt he liked knowing it. This ain't mind games, though. Now I seen it, I can tell something ain't right, and mind games... well mind games just plum ain't the answer. Can't figure it out at all, myself, but I can rule a few things out, and mind games is first on that list. Just mind games and he'd have sapped the sentry first and played dumb second, maybe. Mind games and he'd have come around more often, but... I'll keep on keeping an eye out for him. He might come back in fighting form, but even if he doesn't, I never met a puzzle I didn't want to solve. He'll come back around eventually, and the more I see of him the more pattern I'll make out of all of this. And if I can get a pattern, then I can figure out what to do about that spy. I don't aim to sit on my hands around him just 'cause he's gone off his rocker. No, once I know what's going on in that squirrely little noggin of his, I'll know how to handle him when he comes back around. Guess if he keeps coming at me like he did today, though, I can let the sentry handle him, just 'til I get something worked out.
I wasn't expecting the portrayal of RED engineer to be like that, considering that he is the one who caused Spy's condition. I was expecting him to be more... "villainous", so to speak, even though technically they are all trained assassins. But thinking about it, it makes sense. Sure, he is the one who injured Spy, BUT it wasn't the head injury itself that caused Spy's shell shock, it was a combination of being head injured AND being stuck alone in a hole for many hours unable to move or call for help. Most likely, if BLU Soldier hadn't killed RED Engineer and he had been allowed to beat Spy to death, Spy wouldn't have developed shell shock. Even if RED Engineer was going to make Spy's death slow and painful, I assume he wouldn't have made it last hours. Still, RED Engineer was the one who triggered the events, whether he meant to or not. I wonder if he will ever realize the role he played in breaking his enemy, and if so, if he will feel guilty or simply shrug it off.
Damn, I thought the Scout was the one who started it... probably got thrown off by Spy mentioning his bat. Didn't even notice that bit about the "unblinking" stare. Granted, I read the first chapter pretty late at night... Love this fic, by the way, keep up the good work!
It was the Scout actually
>>27 No, I think it was the Engineer. It's way too vague (the mention of Scout threw me off at first too) but the mention of the sentry and other little details suggest as much. Besides, Scout isn't the sort to do anything slowly nor does he stand still for long. An Engineer guarding his nest makes more sense for the situation as it was written. Especially since he has every reason to take the BLU Spy's attack personally. Him being the one to trigger the shell-shock would explain why Spy hadn't shown up in so long but had been attacking/attempting to attack the rest of Engie's team.
It could only be the Engineer. There are clues in the second chapter: "the beep of the sentry I never sapped" "the hollow stare that never blinks" And earlier in that same chapter, Spy mentions his death by the Scout's bat, the Soldier's shovel, the Pyro's axe, the Sniper's kukri, and the Medic's bonesaw. That only leaves the enemy Spy (who doesn't use a blunt object), the Heavy (whose "blunt object" is his fists), the Demoman (whose bottle would have shattered if he hit someone that hard with it), and the Engineer. And of those, the only one with a "hollow stare that never blinks" is the Engineer with his goggles.
>>27 I have seen you around for a couple weeks now, and Ive been quiet until now... this was just too much for me. I just wanted to let you know that you are probably the most annoying and idiotic person I have ever had the misfortune to be exposed to on this chan and give a proper name to. Your real one, at that. Congratulations on being retarded and letting everyone know who exactly to call that.
>>30 This is not an appropriate way to address someone that has done something to upset or irk you. If anything your response just makes you seem childish and only serves to make you out as being rude.
Ok sorry I misread it, you guys proved me wrong, fair enough. I often read the chan after I just woke up. Not sure what other things I've done to seem like an idiot, but I guess I apologize.
Yeah, I didn't want to fall into making the RED Engineer two-dimensionally villainous-- To him, after all, the fight got personal, then it ended when, for all he knew, they both died and respawned... (I did leave his identity somewhat vague-but-hinted-at, so I certainly don't take any authorly offense to people thinking it was someone else.) ~~~9: Sniper~~~ The Spy's been giving me the creeps... He was a competent professional from the start, is the thing. Much as I hated the bastard, I had to respect that much. At what he did, he was a professional. Then this happens. And I figure, whatever it was turns that... I mean, not just professional, but ridiculously just, pulled-together, suave, suit-wearing bastard into a gibbering mess... Suppose if it could happen to him, it could happen to me? His timing's off. His cloak goes or his aim's wrong or he walks up to you while he's wearing your own bloody face and just stands there and says nothing, and... I mean, how does that happen to a bloke? The other day, after the battle, I saw him out on their side... for a long time just standing there, smoking endless cigarettes and not doing a damn thing. Everyone else had gone in, and I wasn't really looking for him, I wasn't looking for anything, just... just looking around, I guess. Bored. Well, working hours were over, so I wandered over. I mean, not all the way over, not into BLU territory or anything, that'd be frowned on. Just over to where I could see him and he could see me. Not sure what I thought would happen. Even now I'm not sure why I done it. I mean, we didn't much know each other outside using each other for pincushions and target practice. But I reckon his going funny has everyone rattled. I just walked over through the no-man's-land like, and waved, nodded to him. Polite, see. He didn't give me much notice, so I called out. Still friendly, I mean. No reason not to be, off the clock. I just meant to ask him what was the matter, I think. We were all dying to know. The BLU Engineer came out and told me off, 'til I said I wasn't anywhere I shouldn't be and wasn't being anything but neighbourly. He steered the man off home like he was his keeper, too. But he showed in no-man's-land after, with a couple beers in hand. All been on edge, that was his excuse, or his explanation. No explanation made for the Spy, mind, just for his own short temper. Grand scheme of things, his temper doesn't seem so short. Most blokes whose job it is to kill you don't come out and apologize for a misunderstanding, not with beer leastways. Today the Spy showed up in my nest and froze up completely over something. I don't know what I should've done, but I know what I did. Just grabbed his arm and made him sit down. Forget what I said exactly... something stupid. A little truce of some kind. Man wasn't in any position to be a threat. He disappeared completely later, and I guess he killed our Medic a while later, so I guess he got better-- temporary thing, now, always is with him since he stopped being himself. But he didn't take me out on his way back down to the fight, so I guess the truce worked out. Hell... I don't even know what I said to him. Don't know if the truce was supposed to last an hour or a day or for-bloody-ever. Guess as long as he doesn't kill me again it doesn't much matter. I mean, I have my pride, whatever may have happened to him, I'm still a professional, and... and there's jobs I don't do. If you hire me for an assassin, I guess I'll kill anyone, but if you hire me for a mercenary, then I got standards. If he can't be a mercenary himself then it doesn't seem right taking shots at him. There's no bragging rights in it, I mean. Rather take out a hard target and feel good about it than a sitting duck and feel... Just feel... Creepy.
~~~10: Spy (RED)~~~ I am... uneasy, with the BLU Spy. I wish that I could think of him as another man, some incompetent sent to replace an old rival. If I could only believe that, it would be a joy to deal with him on the battlefield, to show some idiot how a real spy does his work. I know that is not the case, though. It should be, mon dieu, it should be! Even some idiot boy replacement would have been better, than keeping this broken man in the field! For a time, I thought our Engineer was the one to damage him, and yet... That is not wholly accurate, by my observations it can't be. Perhaps he had some hand in it, it would explain things. It is funny, we die a thousand deaths, so why now is this one man so destroyed? Not from simply being killed? He cannot even sap an unguarded sentry-- ever since I noticed the change in him, I have been observing, sometimes to the exclusion of all else. I can go back to my job when the pieces are in place. Until then... He does not even know, if I watch. I know he cannot do his job, because I watch. I would not even have stopped him, that first occasion, committed as I was to observing. He approached the empty nest-- empty save for myself-- he did so with the stealth and cunning I would have expected from him. I heard his tread once, and thought I caught wind of cigarette smoke not my own, but he was very nearly a perfect spectre, and with the labourer not around to defend his work, nor the Pyro, he should have taken the clear shot when he had it. Instead, the sentry beeped as it targeted one of his teammates and there was a clang and a thud, his sapper appearing on the ground. He appeared as well, when the cloak ran out, frozen in place with such a look of wild apprehension... It is that look which haunts me. Seeing him ripped to shreds by the sentry's bullets, that is an everyday occurrence, someone always dies that way. I have seen too much to be haunted by that. But the fear that hearing the machine caused in him, to make him unable to act... It is not that he never fights. I have also seen him fight, yes. Seen him fly into a fury in close quarters with the Scout or the Pyro. It lacks his old elegance, but still, he sometimes gets the job done. The job of killing men, if nothing else. He is unreliable at it, but not entirely incapable. It is only sometimes that he is wholly useless. That is not what concerns me-- I suppose none of it ought to concern me. Should I not count my blessings? But I respected him before. We were evenly matched, on the whole. I had strengths to beat his, in some arenas, but in others, I freely admit he was more than just my equal. It is disturbing to see him laid this low now. It is... it is disturbing to be able to guess at bits and pieces of the why and wherefore. I still imagine our Engineer may have had some hand in it, but I no longer believe our Medic was involved. The BLU Spy and I have some common history, though before the war we never knew each other. Still, we are countrymen. We are roughly the same age. And the good doctor only sends him into a blind frozen panic when he speaks German. I still imagine our Engineer may have had some hand in it, but after careful observation, I cannot say that it was this war which did the worst of the damage. It could be long past as well as recent past that haunts him. My memories of the war are not so dark... not carefree, by any means, not pleasant, but... but there is nothing in my past that any injury could trigger, nothing... nothing that could change me from what I am, to what he is. I hope that this is true, at least. All of us must, all those with enough introspection to consider the possibility. Seeing the BLU Spy in this state... it makes me truly realize, just what I would not wish on even my worst enemy.
>>30 WHOA, whoa, whoa. That sounds like it could lead to cyberstalking. Either calm down and speak directly with Chessolin about whatever has gotten under your skin, if you're normally on friendly terms outside of the chan, or back the fuck off and be a reasonable person about the fact that [i]someone got something wrong on the internet[i/]. Being snide is one thing but saying you've followed Chessolin on the chan for a couple of weeks and stating that you might know Chessolin IRL, when Chessolin doesn't know who you are, sounded threatening to me. It might have been that you didn't phrase it well or I simply read too much into what you said but, regardless, I wanted to make my position clear. You might be anonymous but that doesn't mean you can't get banned if you do actually start harassing someone. >>33 >>34 I love how RED Sniper tried to reach out to the BLU Spy, twice even, and BLU Engie was just trying to protect him the first time. I also love how RED Spy was determined to find out what was going on and, being all about espionage, was able to find the truth. That he didn't feel good about it either and that he used to respect the BLU Spy, which is what makes it worse to him, is lovely. All too often the Spies are written as cold-hearted bastards who feel for no one and can't seem to relate to anybody. Not even one another! I really like how none of them truly feel right about trying to take BLU Spy out when he's like this. It's a common but wonderful theme. The only two left are Medic and Pyro but I'm eager to see their reactions and how you conclude the story. This has been one of the best emotionally driven stories in awhile and I'm so glad you've shared it.
I second the appreciation of RED Spy's characterization. I'm always happy to see him not portrayed as an asshole. And of course, as a fellow Sniper/Spy shipper and a big fan of team unity, I really enjoyed Sniper's chapter. I'm not sure if you are going to write Medic's and Pyro's pov too (Medic's pov was kind of covered in Heavy's chapter, and Pyro is pretty much a blank slate, so before Dove mentioned it I had just assumed that you would skip them), but whether you do or not, I'm very curious to see how the story will develop after the various reactions have been covered. We already know that there is going to be a shuffle, even if we don't know when exactly (Spy's accident could have taken place many months or a couple of weeks before that, the timeline is pretty vague). Chronologically speaking, the last we saw of this BLU Spy was him waiting to be assigned to a new location. And we know that he will be separated from BLU Engineer, the one who has been taking care of him. What is going to happen from this point in time to the time of the shuffle? And what will happen after the shuffle? I have absolutely no idea, and I'm eager to read it :)
Thanks, all! I am going to do Medic and Pyro POVs, as well as a little post-shuffle stuff. And I have to say, I really like portraying the relationship between any given RED and BLU spies as at the very least tinged with respect-- they may have no love for each other, but I remember the Meet the Spy video gave me the impression that, knowing what goes into the job, there's at least a sense of professional courtesy. (that courtesy just doesn't extend to not taking blackmail material-type pictures...) ~~~11: Medic~~~ The BLU Spy has grown remarkably easy to kill. I suppose I should feel some guilt, the man is obviously not well, but... I think of all the times he has come up behind me, dispatched of me quickly and sent Heavy on to respawn after. The times he has worn my face to do so. The times he has imitated an injured teammate to lure me in. It is not as though I am taking complete advantage of his weakness, not as though I use it to carry out some revenge scheme for all of that. I never seek him out, but I never feel guilt for slicing through him when we meet. This is a war, after all. And he will always be fine after. A war, and... there are worse things a man may do, under that banner. God in Heaven, there is so much worse a man could do and call it 'war'. I do not feel guilty and will not feel guilty for what happens to the Spy when he takes the field in his condition, but... In the grand scheme of things, the great list of sins for which I might feel guilt, cutting the spy's throat does not even register. Perhaps I cannot make a diagnosis. He is my enemy, not my teammate, and it is not my place. The times I see him, it is hardly enough to... to be definitive. I have seen it before, but this is different. We have the respawn, we have immortality. Not only does it free him from the fear of his own death, in this war he will never have to hold a comrade as he bleeds out, and say to himself he will never speak with that man again. He will never be pinned down by shells with no escape, surrounded by the dead and dying. In this war of easy exits and effortless returns, what reason is there for such reactions? I do not understand it at all. I do not like it, the implication that such mental damage is even a possibility here. I had been secure in the knowledge that it would not be. With death so easy and impermanent, why angst? Why trauma? Yes, we are at war, but... but it is such a little war, such a safe one. No tanks, no planes, no endless marching armies, no sharing a foxhole with a corpse, no crouching fear as you wait for rescue or a killing blow-- why should there be, when either way you will be safe at home in your own bed come nightfall? I am not the only one unsettled by this display of shock or fatigue. To be honest, we may all be unsettled, but the Scout merely thinks it an elaborate trap and even most of the others, they do not really dig deep into what such a thing may mean. Still, whatever the circumstances, they are not common. In all the time we have fought here-- and it feels as though we have fought for a long time, some days-- I have never once seen another case like this one, nor heard tell of one when RED's medics circulate our notes-- improvements to the medigun, generally, or thought experiments, or different formulas for the most effective syringe gun. Interesting new injuries or illnesses are always shared-- there is an informal sort of prize for the best story, be it the funniest or the goriest. No one has ever had a thing like this happen, not in this war. I take some comfort in that, that this could be an isolated case. Still, it is my duty to let my colleagues know. It has happened, it can happen. When it does... Well. It will not happen again, not here, and not to my team. Eventually, I am sure BLU will find a replacement. Surely their Medic has contacted his headquarters by now about the case. I am not naive, those men are not monsters just because they oppose us, and my own opposite number will act much as I would under the circumstances. I have never been naive, I don't think. There has never been a war you could paint in black and white, even the worst war machines are powered by men, and most men are only that. I... I only mean, I suppose, that while propaganda serves its purpose, it is fiction, in the end. BLU's medics are doubtless as intelligent and professional as I am, doubtless they are no more callous than I about the health and well-being of the men they serve with. And I am only that. Only a man. I have been chewed up and spit out by my fair share of war machines. I know what it is to wake in a cold sweat over something that happened twenty five years ago. What it is like to have regrets and lingering fears. I have promised that nothing like what has happened to the BLU Spy will ever happen to us, but the truth is, the difference between us is that I left my hell long ago. I carry pieces of it with me, but few men would guess at it. He goes out into the fray every day. Well, what do I know? Twenty five years on from now, maybe he will have learned to hide his scars.
Personally, I think this is the darkest fic you have written. And also one of your best.
Thank you! I felt like this really opened up the field for me to go into some dark places... When I first started fooling around with Medic's chapter, it was one of the less deep ones, too-- he was one of the least squeamish and had some of the least pity, and there was little in the way of analysis, and then almost out of nowhere he started developing his own issues... And now... now I'm trying out a different Pyro, since Pyro gives me the chance to try out any kind of speech pattern... ~~~12: Pyro~~~ Nobody ever even needs me to spycheck anymore. I got other skills. No one-trick pony, me. Even been fun, times. I get to deflect all those rockets back at the BLU Soldier whenever he comes charging out. I miss the old Spy, though. Wouldn't think that... He was my best enemy, though. One thing setting anybody else on fire, but the Spy is always a fun surprise. You know, you'll be spraying around for him and you never know when he'll pop up, and sometimes screaming is just funnier en francais. Spy used to try to be dignified about it, but you only need to hear a man go 'Aiee!' once and you never think of him as dignified again no matter how fancy he dresses. He was proud, too. I think that just always makes it better, when they're proud. Not everyone is, much. Now? Not so much. Now, he boude around sometimes, or you find him froze up like a coward. He doesn't even say nothing, where's the fun in that? Can't half the time understand him anyway whatever language he's speaking, but you half the time could, and now he's quiet as the dead, even when he's alive. Well, someone else going to have to be fun to play with, guess. Soldier is, enough, gets good and mad when he can't hit nobody and his own rockets come back at his face. Still, hope they fix whatever's wrong with the old Spy, or send up a new one. Times it gets boring without him.
Oh Anne...you know I love anything you write. And this is no exception. Medic's chapter. ...Whoo. That was some deep, dark stuff, and dang close to what I plan on doing with my headcanon Medic too, so...fun times! But seriously. I LOVE how you danced around different aspects of WW2 with that chapter. The "war machine", which Germany definitely became during the late 30s and early 40s...the propaganda references, oh man. And I love the way you balanced Medic's mental outlook on it... he's no longer trapped in what happened in his past, but that shit never really goes away, and so some nights... yeah. Lovely. And Pyro! Omg, Pyro made me giggle for a very specific reason. His speech pattern is very close to a regional dialect where I live in SC. So now I am seeing Pyro in a completely different way. :)
I like him! Is he, perhaps, Cajun?
Thanks! Enjoyed going dark with Medic, and enjoyed going Cajun with Pyro (I forget where I first saw the idea of a Cajun Pyro... it had never been my personal headcanon, but it was too attractive a thing to not at least play with, since I do enjoy trying to write different dialects/speech patterns.) Okay, BLU Spy's POV again. ~~~13: The Move~~~ Another base... they are sending me to another base. They are just going to pretend I am fine, even when I know... Damn it. Damn me. Damn all of them. Even when everyone knows I... I will not have my team. A new team, who will not know. Well, they will learn. When I fail them all, when we lose our first round because I cannot just remember where I am, they will understand then, that I am damaged. The Engineer promises I will be all right. He wants for it to be true. Our waiting room is above theirs. I can see him, down with the other Engineers. They talk about their guns and their machines. Maybe about other things. About girls back home and dry rubs and movies where men are men. In our waiting room, the other Spies talk as well. They talk about secrets and devices, about conquests and coq au vin and movies where everything is an extended metaphor for the inherent meaningless of life. I used to be able to follow such things, but... I do not know. I've lost my taste for too much. They talk about me. In low voices, in private corners, they talk about the Spy who has lost his mind or his nerve. I cannot complain, if they do. It... it is true enough. I can tell which Engineer below is mine. They will send us to different places, as much as I wish they would not. But I felt safe with him. God knows the Medic tried, but I could not... He tried, but there was never any putting me at ease after... And too many things came to the surface. And since then, it is like I never know where I am. I am never sure that I am someplace safe, but I can never act as I know I should, when I am not. The Engineer has a way of talking, to make you believe when he says it will all be all right. It is not true, but you believe him when he says it. I believe him when he says it. He is a good shot and a brilliant Engineer, and I know that he is the kind of man you would never want for an enemy, but when he is not on the battlefield, he is the kind of man you would want for a friend. And it is not special treatment, when he is gentle with me, that I should chafe against. He is gentle with the others, as well. When any conflict with the Soldier threatens to become a shouting match. When the Scout is angry and prideful and so very young. When the Pyro is hovering near the others like he has no place on the team. When the Demoman is maudlin in his cups. I have seen the Engineer employ that gentle friendship with all of them, in subtle ways. The men never feel coddled or spoken down to, because those things are never his intent. There are days... there are days when I feel more my old self. Not completely well, but days when I can think and reason and act accordingly, at least for a while. There are times when my thoughts are not muddled with fear, when I am not a quivering mess of adrenaline and confusion. When those times come, he takes it as a sign, that things are improving. It hurts all the more, when that ability and confidence vanishes again. I am letting down more than myself. I am letting down a man who believes in me. A friend. My whole team. There is such an understanding from him, though, and an optimism. And I will not get this from any man they send me off to work with. They will not know what happened. Even the Engineer does not know what happened, I have never been able to explain it. When I open my mouth to try, all the strength flees me. They will station me with one of the others, men I don't know. The gun-loving madman in the cowboy hat, perhaps, or the strange man dressed like a bumblebee. Who will tell them, the Spy you are with has a problem? How will anyone explain, if I cannot? It would have been so much better, to have died. At any point, to have died. If it had happened soon enough, then I could have come back fine, I believe that is true. Or... or if it did not, then... then to have been lost from the respawn system. That might have been better for everyone. I cannot explain myself to my new teammates. I wish I did not care what they thought of me, but I was a professional once. I was one of the best. To have lost all of that... it is a shame that eats at me with every moment. But I cannot change it. The Medic urged me to talk, and I... I can barely stand to speak at all now, let alone about the reasons I find myself so afraid. They will send me somewhere, somewhere far away where I know no one. They ought to just let me go.
Awwww... poor Spy! He needs his Engie so much. Maybe Engie should have given him a Teddy Roosebelt. Yeah, cheesy and probably wouldn't help but a memento is a memento. I hope he finds either his Engie or himself again. Or is allowed to go. D:
Great chapter, it was my very favourite so far.
I'm chuckling at your Engibee reference.
Thanks, you guys! >>43 Aw, I wish I had thought of that, because it is ADORABLE. And I am a complete and unrepentant sucker for little mementos, even when it's not a romantic couple. >>45 I love Engibee, because I love things with bees on them (and, of course, I love Engie). I don't know why... I'm allergic to honey and scared of most insects, but if something has a bee on it, I go gaga for it... ~~~14: The New Old Spy~~~ "New BLU Spy's a fucking lunatic!" The Scout's laughing, coming into the base dragging his bat along the wall. "Why, what's he done?" I ask. Not that I care so much. I hadn't seen him at all that day. He can't be any more of a psycho than any other spy, on either team. "Nothin'." Scout shakes his head, eyes wide. "Nothing?" I get up. I'm up before I even realize it. "What's your problem, man? No, he doesn't do anything. At all. It was creepy at first, but it's kind of hilarious now... He must not have been a spy for very long, 'cause he sucks at it like sucking's what they pay him for." That night, I don't see him, out in no-man's-land or anyplace you could see from there. I don't even know why it's important to me, but I go out the next night, too, and when I spot him and wave him over, he comes. He doesn't say anything, just side-eyes me wary like and stands a ways away, but close enough for conversation. "Any of your own team the same?" I ask. "Your Engineer or anybody?" He looks down. It's answer enough. "New team know what happened?" He doesn't look up. "Can't talk at all?" He shrugs and turns even more away. "Got anything to write on, then?" His eyes flicker up, and after a moment he pulls a notepad out. There's a pen tucked in it, but he doesn't really make a move to write anything, and after a long moment, he hands both off to me. "Okay." I sit down and try to find the best light. 'Your Spy had a bad accident at his last base. I don't know much about it. You might try asking him, might be he could write up something about it for you. I know he's hard to figure out, but I don't think he's dumb or anything. Imagine once we're all settled he'll have more days where he's his old self, but I don't know what he needs' I don't sign it. Bad enough writing it out at all, I'm not going to sign it. Still, I hand back the pad and the pen and then the note. "You could give this to someone, if you can't come up with one of your own. Your Medic-- Or, well, somebody." Somebody not the Medic, I gather, from the way he reacts. "They ought to understand." I shrug helplessly. "Why you're... like this. I don't understand. But your team needs to." His mouth thins out, his whole face tightens for a moment, and then he grabs my arm just for a moment and squeezes. That's all, just a quick squeeze, and a quicker nod. Then he's gone, with the note in his hand. Day after, I'm well-rested enough even with that late night jaunt. My opposite number's got his huntsman out, more than a few times in the day I get pinned to the wall, even if he never hits me clean in the head with it. Once, though, it's a near miss past my ear and there's a note tied on. 'Okay', is all it says. It doesn't change things, it doesn't make any of us friends-- well, maybe they're friends over there, I don't know, but it doesn't make me friends with anyone-- and we still all do our jobs as much as we ever have. The other Sniper and I don't not try to take each other out just because he's the one who got the note and he figured I wrote it. Wrong to say nothing changes, though... I'm on another walk through no-man's-land, maybe a week later, and I'm not looking for him, but I see the BLU Spy there. "Thank you." I'm utterly gobsmacked he can talk at all. Always assumed he honestly couldn't, since whatever happened. A respawn error, maybe. "You-- you're welcome." He nods, a little awkwardly. He doesn't say anything else, and maybe there's nothing else to say, really. We both wound up here, and I guess I felt something, some little niggling human thing, to make me want to help him, but we're not friends, not really... I'd just rather fight him at his best than at his worst, reckon. We go our separate ways. It's a long process, but it seems to me he does get more good days and fewer bad, as he settles in with his new team. As whatever happens gets a little longer past. Maybe now he talks, he talks it out with his mates over there, the other Sniper or his new Engineer if not his Medic. The first time he kills me, I find an apology note in my nest after respawning, but honestly... Honestly, in its own twisted way, that backstab's the best thanks I could've gotten for any help I might have given him. It doesn't mean things are back to normal, sure, but it's got to mean things are going better for him. Besides... Besides, just rather fight a professional.
I got a bit confused with this chapter. At first the chapter title made it seem like it was a RED Spy's POV, but evidently from words like huntsman and nest, the POV is actually a RED Sniper's. I wonder who BLU Spy ended up talking to though.
I suspect what with the note to the huntsman, that he went and spoke to the BLU Sniper. Which is all sorts of cute really.
And now I have a new favourite chapter :)
...Would the BLU Sniper happen to be the one from your Shuffle story?
Yeah, the RED Sniper, sorry that wasn't clear... Anyway, thanks for the continued response, you guys. And... >>50 Let this chapter answer that question. (also, possible hilarity, listening to Black Kids' 'I'm Not Going To Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You' while I write this... it came on randomly, but then it felt right...) ~~~15: At Long Last Something~~~ "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, don't get your pants in a knot..." My chest is tight and I want to run, disappear, abandon this whole stupid idea. But I can't go to the infirmary and see the Medic, when a stray word from him sends me back twenty four years, and I can't go down to the workshop to see this new Engineer, when the idle smack of his wrench into his palm while he works does the same. It shouldn't. If it only reminded me of that time, with the RED Engineer, then maybe. It doesn't, though. It robs me of all my experience and all my sang-froid, it robs me of more than half of my life and leaves me scared and stupid. So when the Sniper opens the back of his camper, I hand him the note from the RED Sniper. "... You want to come in?" I accept. The ceiling is too low to stand, so when he sits on the bed, I do the same. "This is about right?" I nod. I had read it, of course, on the way over. I wanted to know what it said about me. "I don't know if I have paper... If you ever want-- I could get some, another time." I shrug. Before this base, I had known nobody, not from my old team or from the RED team that had opposed us. When I came here... it was almost nice, seeing the RED Sniper again. As enemies went... He had been understanding, after the... the whatever-it-was. Not an accident, not really. And he did not have to try to help me. Better than seeing some of that team again... "Well... If you need a friend, or... I guess..." "Merci." My throat hurts and my voice is hoarse. He looks surprised. "None of us thought you could talk." "I can." I say. It still hurts, and I am surprised, when he puts a canteen in my hand. The water does help. "I don't. It comes out wrong. And... sometimes I forget, in English. I am-- I speak-- For years! And... But sometimes..." "Shh, shh... That's fine. I'd forget things all the time if I had to learn another language." I shake my head. It isn't that. It isn't needing a moment to find a word, it isn't using the wrong phrase. It is suddenly not knowing English at all. Mostly it happens when I lose myself. Sometimes it just happens. It is easier not to talk. I do not like to look stupid. But I've been fluent for so long... Other skills, too. All those things I've really learned since... since being eleven, since seeing the killing, sometimes I am transported back there and I do not know how to use any of my equipment, I do not know how to speak English or stab a man or survive on a battlefield. Not knowing what words would come out, not knowing if it would be me speaking, or that frightened eleven year old boy, I couldn't even converse in French. For a while, I couldn't... I could not do anything. It is too bad the old Engineer is not here. It is too bad I was not able to build up enough confidence to speak in any language, before we were sent to different bases. He will be all right, though. Better, without the burden of dealing with me. But the RED Sniper had been nice... and I thought, I hoped... He won't speak French, and maybe I will not always be able to speak in English. It is hard to get used to speaking at all again. But... but maybe... I need at least one friend here, who can know why I am so little help to my team. "If you ever want to try, if you need a mate..." He touches my shoulder. "I'll listen. I... I could use a friend myself." "Really?" He nods. "I always could. I'm rubbish at it. And... and there's things I'm not proud of. From bases I was on before. And teammates I should've been friendly to. I'm a right bastard some of the time and maybe there's not a lot of changing that. Hell. I need fixing myself, I don't know if I could even half help you. I'll try if you want me to, though." I nod as well and place my hand on his. Whatever his regrets are, he does not need fixing the way I do. But it has been so long now since anyone has wanted me to help them... "Okay." His thumb comes up to stroke against the side of my hand. "You try to fix me and I'll try to fix you, and if we wind up even a tiny bit better for it, well, that'll be something." I kiss his cheek. It is something the eleven year old boy wants to do, an expression of friendship or of gratitude, one that takes no words. He has done it before the man remembers this may not be acceptable custom for my new friend. I flinch away, but there is no shout. There is no strike. He only smiles, only does the same. My hand is on his and kisses have been exchanged and I am not in Europe any longer and the Sniper is an Australian-- not a people, I understand, to exchange these greetings and touches easily between friends. My preference is for women, but... my preference is not strong. If he considers me not too broken for lovemaking, or if he considers me so harmless that my whims might be indulged, either... Neither is repulsive to me. Under the circumstances, neither is repulsive to me. Whatever my intentions and whatever his, for the time being, we are merely sitting together. He does not press me to speak, he does not press me for anything, and his hand is under mine and warm. "I won't hurt you." He whispers. "I mean, whatever... whatever does or doesn't... I won't, all right?" For a moment, he seems as lost as I. He looks at the floor and seems to swirl in his own sea of old wounds and regrets. "D'ac." I whisper as well. I thought it would hurt less than to speak aloud, but it is rougher, and I meant to speak in English and didn't. "Is it all right, if I kiss you again?" "Oui." I whisper. Then, louder. "Yes." He does, and it is soft, and I still cannot tell if he wants romance or merely the comfort of a human touch. It still does not matter. I need comfort too badly, and if romance follows, then... then as long as I am feeling secure enough, I am a rational adult perfectly capable of making my own decisions, of choosing to enter into a romance. If I am hit with blind panic when I am with him, then I can only hope he will weather that storm with me. "I won't hurt you... not ever." He whispers, and his arms come up around me. "I'm sorry. I won't ever. I'm sorry." The promise may be for me. I doubt the apology is... he has nothing to apologize for. I bring my arms up around him and rest my head against his, and if he must apologize, then I let him. I have no room to judge what any man might say, when he needs comforting.
ooh...a mostly-hetero spy. -steeples fingers- go on... But seriously, thanks for a lovely sweet chapter.
Yay! Love for both our awkward BLUs! This is so sweet, I'll be at the dentists getting new teeth while waiting for more.
I'm so, so happy to see the closeted BLU Sniper again! He is a type of character I've never seen in any of the many, many TF2 fics I've read, and that makes him extremely interesting to me. To clarify, usually homophobia is either completely ignored, or portrayed as something that hetero characters believe in while bullying the gay character. Basically, homophobia is portrayed as an outside factor: the gay character is aware of his sexuality and is perfectly comfortable with it and the only reason he hides it is that he (understandably) fears gay bashing. The closeted BLU Sniper is the only example I've ever seen in TF2 fics of a gay character who has internalized homophobia, who can't seem to admit even to himself that he is gay and seems to sincerely believe that there is something wrong with him. His emotional struggles are a completely different beast than RED Sniper's worries about getting caught, but just as compelling. Please keep writing this fic! Such a character is well-worth developing, and his possible relationship with the shell-shocked Spy could be a goldmine of interesting and unique interactions. Speaking of snipers, this chapter really makes it clear what a nice guy RED Sniper is. I had assumed that the previous chapter takes place right after the first shuffle, but now it turns out that it actually takes place after the second shuffle, several months after the first one. So, after changing teams twice and being separated from his old enemy for months, RED Sniper still felt so strongly about helping him. It seems like all RED Snipers are sweet guys :) On the other hand, it also makes me feel even sorrier for BLU Spy. I had assumed he found help right after the first shuffle, but now it turns out that he was stuck for months with unknown teammates and enemies. Poor guy...
Thanks, you guys! Meant to come back to this one last night, and then stuff came up... but anyway, not important now. Right now, posting some fic, and really appreciating seeing your nice comments. Believe this is the second-to-the-last chapter... have some of closeted-and-self-loathing!BLU Sniper's POV. (and some adult content that does come from sex instead of violence, not that it's free of the violence overtones) ~~~16: Fresh Starts~~~ It's been about a week, since the Spy's been coming out to see me after the day's work gets through. Neither one of us is much of a talker... he sometimes doesn't even try to, and I don't mind, except I haven't got the slightest idea how to fill a silence. Neither one of us is much of... much of an anything, really. He sits next to me and sometimes holds my hand or leans against me. Sometimes I put an arm around him. There've been kisses, once or twice. Not... not the kind I pushed on the last Spy I worked with. Maybe because I'm scared of... of repeating that failure. Scared of my own self, mostly... This Spy's not a replacement or anything... I didn't know the other one real well, I wasn't in love with the bloke. He was good-looking, though, and... and I guess I thought maybe up for it, I don't know. Been in love just once before, when I was in the Nasho. His name was Gary, and the two of us were mostly alike, if maybe he was a bit better-looking and I was a bit better with a rifle. But neither one of us was like anybody else around, and we spent a lot of our time together because of it. And... and there was... there was this whole ideal, of your mates being the people you'd do anything for, if it came to that. We were supposed to live and die for each other, I thought that was all it was. For the longest time I thought that was all it was. Mateship. I didn't even tell myself, 'til he was five years out of my life, that I'd been in love with him. All the times I'd felt so damn confused made a little more sense, but I hated myself for it. Gaz never asked for that. I always felt... felt like I'd taken the one pure thing men can have in that kind of situation and... polluted it. Polluted him, maybe. I don't know if I love the Spy-- this one, I mean. If I ever do, I hope I figure it out a hell of a lot faster. He's good looking, sure, and... and whatever there is between us, he doesn't push me away and he doesn't run. He kissed me first, so... And when he looks lost in himself, it hurts. Reckon I know what it's like, having problems twisted up inside you that you can't tell a soul about. I can't fix him. I can't fix me. But I'm there, at least I'm there. And I don't push him away, or say the kind of things I always... always thought I had to. The things you say so people know you're not. "You don't have to go." I tell him, when it gets late. The time he usually leaves around, with a little apologetic smile and a nervous shuffle. I hardly know what I'm saying and I'm terrified saying it, but... There's no sound, when his mouth turns into an 'oh', and the look he gives me is confused and questioning but the look I give back can't be any better. "If you want." I rub the back of my neck, feel it prickle uncomfortably. "You can stay any time that you want to. I just mean... You're never-- you're never unwelcome, or..." He nods and swallows and puts his arms around me, his head on my shoulder, and I'm sure he can feel my heart going, like to burst right out of me. "Not for anything you don't want. Just... you can stay. I-- I'd like it if you stayed, sometime. Even just for the company, I would..." "Do you want to... to love me?" He rasps, and I reach for the canteen of water by the bed for him. Do I want to love him? No. Even if I wanted to love anybody, and it's only trouble when you do, I don't want to love another man. I hate it and I hate me and I couldn't... I couldn't do that. Not again. It shouldn't ever have happened. Yes. Because when he's miserable so am I, and when he's on form I couldn't be happier for him, and even just sitting quietly beside him is... nice. And someone has to, someone has to love him. "Sniper?" He sets the canteen down and settles back against me, with his arms around my waist. "I don't know." I pet the back of his head. He laughs. It isn't mean like, or unfriendly. Just sounds out-of-practice. If he stays the night, it doesn't matter what we do or don't do. Someone seeing him leave in the morning's going to think I was fucking him. I mean, maybe the other way around, except... except probably they wouldn't think that, way he usually is. But... if he stays... If he stays, then... Well, if anyone says anything about it, I mean, if anyone starts talking like I'm taking advantage of him, I'll throw a few punches if it comes to that, but... But everyone would know. Call me things. And they'd be right about it. And they'd never look at me the same way. "If you want to stay, I want you to." I tell him, firm as I can. "For whatever. I've got room, and..." He nods and slips out of his jacket. "It gets lonely." I finish, a little lame, but... He puts his cufflinks and his tie in the pockets, hanging it up with my vest. Puts his own waistcoat over. About as much as the coathook'll take. After that, he lines up his shoes by the bed, and he doesn't take off anything else. I strip down to my shorts and undershirt, just a little self-conscious. Well, maybe more than a little. "Go on and get comfortable." I tell him. After a while, he gets his trousers off, and his shirt. He leaves the mask and gloves on, but I said 'comfortable', I didn't tell him what he should and shouldn't have on. If that's comfy for him, that's fine. He has a long scar on one shin, disappearing under his sock and coming up to wind along the side of his knee. A couple more criss-crossing his ribcage and one arm-- I can see which are defensive wounds, can imagine how he held himself and where the blows fell. A knife, probably, one a little bigger than his own. No idea about the shin. "I don't want to push for anything." I promise him, climbing into bed and pulling the covers up. "Guess I like you, though. And I wouldn't say no, if you wanted..." "I have dreams now..." He says, eyes locking onto mine. "About what happened, at your old base?" He shakes his head. "When I was a boy. I... I..." "Shh, it's okay... it's okay..." I rub his shoulder. "I forgot. I made myself forget. Two thirds of my life, I... I made myself forget. I don't know why I cannot now." "Dunno, mate. Sure it happens... sure it happens all the time." "If I only dream about this war, then... that is all right. I chose to be in this war, do you understand?" "Yeah. I understand." I put my arm around him. We all chose it, more or less, we all signed the same contract. "I was already a killer when I took this job. But not then. So... so sometimes... That is why, when I..." I just nod. He doesn't finish the sentence, but... reckon he doesn't have to. Freezes up, wouldn't wonder. And if that's the case, then... then none of us could blame him. It's one thing being here with a lifetime of experience in killing men, but nobody was born that way. All had a time before, even if some of us started younger than others. Wouldn't be surprised to learn the Heavy's had a good head start on me, say. "Well I won't tell anyone, you don't want me to." I kiss his forehead, through the mask. "You can, the Medic. Because he should know... I cannot even take him a note." "Okay. You write out what you need him to know, I'll deliver it." "You can love me." He nuzzles down into my chest and holds me tight. "Y-yeah?" He nods. "I will try not to wake you." "It's okay if you do." I say. Don't know if I convince him, but... But if there are nightmares, even bad enough to wake me, then maybe I can just do what I do whenever he gets himself worked up trying to explain things. And maybe that could work. And maybe the only war he dreams about will be this one. "I have nightmares sometimes, myself." I say. "About things I'd rather not remember." "The first time you saw a man get killed?" So that's what it was. I can see why he'd try to keep a lid on that one, it's never real pretty, and nothing a kid ought to have to deal with. How young was he? "Nah." I answer. "Nah, he... he lived. At least the rest of that night. But if he made it out of the hospital and into jail, he probably didn't live long. I wasn't a kid, though. Seventeen, maybe. I... I've killed people who didn't really deserve it since then myself, but..." But he could have been you, I tell myself, if you were dumber or braver or drunker or unluckier. Him and who knows how many others, all ending the same way. And before it got too bad, you were jeering with the rest. Said it was the alcohol, when I got pulled out of the bushes covered in my own puke. Funny, how easy I found it, putting people's brains on the outside of their skulls for a living, when the mess of that man's face had made me so sick. But then, I was slow on the uptake then. Couldn't even tell myself why it all made me nervous. Except if he had tried picking me up, instead of someone else... I'd have said no, and I might have said uglier things besides, but I wouldn't have rounded everyone in the place up to beat the man half to death. "You're shaking..." The Spy whispers. I kiss him, on the lips. I kiss him again, and again, until I can forget all those details. It's not like I climb on top of him, not like I even stick my tongue in his mouth, but I mean every single one of those kisses, even chaste as they stay. I mean more with them than I can even understand, let alone say. I kiss him until the shaking goes away, and my face is wet by the time I stop. Hadn't even known I was crying, what kind of sad bleeding pooftah cries over... over nothing, I... He kisses my cheeks and nods and doesn't have to say anything. One person in the world who could understand me, maybe, for all his problems are different from mine. But when he looks at me with his eyes wide and the soft light through the camper window and his hands on me and my cheeks are still wet except for where he's kissed me, it's like... It's like I can see everything neither one of us is saying. The understanding that maybe I could be the one person to understand him, too. "I could love you." I whisper, holding him close again. It's still terrifying. It's more terrifying than anything I've ever faced. He's right here in bed with me, and I can't sort through what I feel about him, but for all I know, idiot me, it's love. It's a close relative, anyway. This time, he's the one to make soft little shushing sounds, and his hand steals down into my shorts. I don't even know if I can... I don't even know if I can, still too scared to think, and his hand feels good, yeah, but for a long time I can't... He doesn't let me apologize, though, and he doesn't give up, and when I do get hard, he smiles, makes me look at him, and there's a gratefulness and a tenderness. I can't look long. I can't look at anything, until it's over. Once it is, though, I do, watch him while I do the same, with his hand over mine showing me what to do when he can't give me any spoken instruction. His little groans are good enough, though. More than good enough. And when we're both done, and as cleaned up as we can really get, he smiles at me... smiles at me with this kind of satisfied mischievousness that makes him look ten years younger at least. The smile I give back feels about the same. "I thought I'd feel ashamed of myself. I don't." He kisses my cheek again and whispers to me in French, something short and fast. Good, whatever it was. He falls asleep in my arms. Whatever dreams he has, I'm a light sleeper and he doesn't wake me.
Oh. Oh. Oh. I was in a crummy sort of mood, was hoping at best for some basic smut to sort of change the mental subject, but THIS. Anne. I'm walking on air now.
Oh, very interesting chapter. And I like the "I could love you" bit - it's not insta-love and very touching. Very, very, very touching. Out of curiosity, have you considered putting up your stories on another website? Because it's a bit of a pain to dig through all of the old threads... and then, it's hard to tell which stories you wrote.
satisfied mischievousness I've seen that look in bed. It's delightful.
Bit confused. I thought the PTSD Blu Spy was with a Red Spy?
Thanks so much, all. >>57 Haven't found an archive site... but it would probably be a good thing, yeah. I just don't know much about any good ones. >>59 Ah-- I think I understand why this is confusing... I know when I introduced Jean and Luc in a fic on LJ, that was his diagnosis after trying to kill himself in a fit of romantic grief. But then in their incarnations in this universe, they're both alive and fine, and a different BLU Spy went through this separate trauma, and... actually, might be doing as much good for the ex-asshole stalker BLU Sniper as the other way around. Speaking of the whole asshole stalker period... ~~~17: Loyalty~~~ It is not a 'company picnic'. 'Company picnic' implies a lot of outdoor activity and unpleasantness. Besides which, it might be fun for somebody, and I don't think our employers are at all interested in fun. It is not really a training event, either, though there are some filmstrips and things. After all, it is not as though any of us need retraining, we keep up our skills every day we are on the field. More a reminder, of corporate loyalty. And, old friends have an opportunity to mingle. This matters very little to me, I was never close to any teammates I am not stationed with now. The Engineer, though, has looked forward to catching up with just about every man he has ever met in this war. He sees the other Spy-- the man I knew only by reputation, though I suppose we have been in the same little waiting room once or twice-- and the Pyro and I both trail after him when he goes to talk to his old friend. Most of my fellow spies are in one corner, talking amongst themselves. From across the room, I could not be sure of which was Jean, but I can go over later to speak with him a bit. It looks as though they have finally found a replacement for the man lost to an old respawn error, and I suppose I should introduce myself there as well. Most of the classes are socializing amongst themselves, despite the freedom to speak with anyone. Perhaps they make their own friendships, while waiting to be sent someplace new. There are enough Scouts that they've all gone off to play ball in the parking lot. This Spy, though, the Engineer's poor old quiet friend, is standing about with a Sniper. I think nothing of that fact, until our little group approaches the two and I recognize him. I tense up, on the inside. Under the layers of masks I wear even without a mask, the veneer of professionalism, under all of that there is a part of me preparing to fight him. He just nods to me sheepishly, as the Engineer greets the other Spy. "It's good to see you." This Spy says, and even from behind him, I can see the Engineer is pleased... touched, even. "You're doing better, then?" He squeezes the Spy's arm, and the two break off, not far, just two steps away from the rest of us. "I, uh, took that advice you gave me." The Sniper stares up at the ceiling. "Worked out pretty well, so... So thanks, for that. Owe you one." "Forget about it." I look from the Sniper, to the Spy. He is by no means talkative, but he makes answers, and when the Pyro joins in the conversation, he speaks a little to her as well. "As long as it is working out well for everyone." "Yeah." Certainly this Spy seems more at ease than he was, any of the few times we sat in waiting rooms together to be assigned a new base. I suppose that means the Sniper is actually good for him, as strange as that seems. I suppose that means the Sniper took what I said very much to heart. It should make me glad, perhaps. I still do not like the man, after what he did I will never like the man, but I do not have to see him much or often, now that we are not on the same base anymore. He does not behave the same way with this other Spy, that is the only thing which is going to matter when we all return to our own bases. I move to stand with the rest of my class, and Jean makes room for me to stand with my back to the wall, between him and the new Spy. "You spoke to that one?" He motions to the Spy whose company I had vacated. "What does he seem like?" "I do not know. He speaks, some. I am not familiar with his most recent records." "Improved, but..." One of the Spies blows out a thick blue plume of smoke. "Now that we are seeing some fresh blood, there are positions in intelligence, that do not require being out in the field. Perhaps now BLU can afford to remove him from battle and put him behind a desk. There are no consequences to freezing up behind a desk." Jean laughs. "A desk job. I wonder if there is vacation time with that? But... Ah, for me, I think I would miss... certain parts of the battlefield." At that, he slides a knowing look to me, and I chuckle appreciatively. Not that a desk job wouldn't be a nice eventuality, I can't run around killing people forever. No one can. If that kind of transition works out for this other Spy, then maybe someday... if there is ever a different way for my own Sniper and I to be together, even without the war... For this other Spy, I do not pretend to know how that move might turn out. I do not pretend to know what he and this Sniper feel for each other, if indeed they feel anything beyond the physical need for someone else. As much as I dislike this BLU Sniper, I still hope that there is something, for the Spy's sake, which will carry through. As little as I care for sides in all of this, I find I hope for that much, for this man who occupies the same position that I do. ~~~FIN~~~
>>60 I'm guessing that you're not considering FFnet [or its adult counterpart] then. How about Archive of Our Own? The only reason I'm suggesting this site is because SirKai and FiveTail [authors of You Crit Me and I'll Crit You] have accounts on there.
This was great, I loved it! It's a happy ending, but still within the realm of realism. It's a love story, but while sexual intimacy does help Spy gain some confidence, sex doesn't magically turn him into his old self. And it's a very interesting look at character development for both Spy and Sniper. And cameos, I love cameos. Engineer is a great guy as usual and his relationship with Pyro is so cute (original too! OMG a straight guy in a TF2 fic! ;P). And I can't even begin to tell you how glad I am that in this Universe Jean and Luc got a happy ending, those two and their poetry are seriously adorable. Haven't found an archive site... but it would probably be a good thing, yeah. I just don't know much about any good ones. If you are looking for fanfiction sites, I recommend AO3, it would be especially perfect for you since you post a lot of multi-chapters fics that share the same universe. The reason is that AO3 has a particular option for storing fics, the "Series" page. That option lets you collect different multi-chapter fics under the same series name and display them all in the same page, separated from the rest of your works. Basically, if you post all of your fics in AO3, your readers could click on (for example) the "MercyVerse" series and get a page with the links (+ short descriptions) to Mercy, Shuffle, RED Sniper's pov fics, Jean and Luc's story, the distant epilogues, and Disconnect (am I missing any?). Or they could click on (for example) the "DefiantVerse" series and get a page with the links + descriptions to The Defiant Ones, its sequels, and its spin-offs with Stone and that other BLU Spy. On they could click on (still making stuff up) the "LadyVerse" series and get a page with the links to the story of the female BLU Spy meeting the female RED Sniper and to Dicks Everywhere. In short, AO3 is excellent for world building. You could keep all of your different universes efficiently separated while tying together all the fics that share the same setting.
Thanks! I think I'll look at AO3, then...