1 . Name: geesetreats @ 2010-11-17 23:56

UHM. So. Have some MedicHeavy angsty nonsense with too many commas. I took a few liberties with the timeline, but like, the game did too, kind of, so. And I don't know how the chan feels about naming the boys, but well.
k.

“Dieter,” I remember her saying. “Dieter, come hold mommy’s hand.” I remember being too afraid to ask why. What was happening? She had been in that bed for months now. Father spent so much time with her, the door locked from the inside. I spent countless hours in the study, re-reading father’s books. “Come, Dieter.” I remember the way she tried to wave me over. Her hands were so boney. There was barely anything left of her.

It’s so strange, now, the way I remember the old carpet so vividly. It was such an ugly burgundy, so stained and thread bare it was practically brown.

“That’s a good boy… Dieter. Come now.” Again, she tries her best to wave me over. Her head is sunk into the well worn pillow, she doesn’t even have the strength to lift it. Her head was all but a skull wrapped in yellowed ivory. Her eyes were sunken, much like her head in the pillow.

There was a wooden chair that father used, presumably, when he was in here. I pushed it closer to mother’s bed, and climb on it. I remember it seemed so large to me. I couldn’t have been older than 7 at the time.

I reached over the small gap between us and grabbed my mother’s hand in my own.

“Dieter… Have I ever told you how I met your father?” She paused for an answer, even though we both knew this is a story I’d never heard. I shook my head. “15 years ago,” she continued, “I was at a café in the city, with a few friends. We were celebrating Dagmar’s engagement, all of us ogling her ring… I got up to use the restroom when I ran into your father.” She paused to chuckle, “Quite literally, in fact. He was a military man, all adorn in his uniform… He was so handsome.” She stopped and smiled, so sad… “You look just like him, Dieter… I know you will grow up to be strong, and handsome, and make a name for yourself.” She squeezed my hand, barely. Sometimes when I can’t fall asleep I swear I can still feel the phantom of her hand.

She continued her story after a breather. “He looked down at me, and I apologized profusely. I was so afraid I’d made him upset… But then, he smiled at me. I think, then, that was when I started to fall in love with him. We introduced ourselves, and before anyone knew, we were standing at the altar.” At this point, she’d started tearing up. In the silences of her story, it was just our laboured breathing.

This time, her voice quivered. “I was so happy, Dieter. We were so happy. A few years went by, and everything seemed so… perfect. But then, he had to go to war. We wrote letters, of course. Every week, I waited for word from him. And every week, I knew he did the same. It was about 2 months after he had first left that I found out I was pregnant, with you, Dieter. I was so happy, my first child! And when I told your father, I knew he was as well. Shortly after though…” She took a shaky breath. “Shortly after, I stopped getting letters from him. From your father. I held on though! I never received word of his death, so I knew, he must be alive. The war had escalated, and so it was not surprising if mail got lost, or stopped altogether. A month before you were due to be born, your father returned. He showed up on my doorstep, our doorstep, soaked to the bone from the downpour. It was so cliché, but it was real. I didn’t care that I was liable to catch cold. I all but jumped into his arms, and held on for dear life. I never wanted to let go. The pins and metals on his shirt dug into my chest and shoulder, I remember. It hurt, but what hurt more was the look on his face… He was so different.” The tears started streaking down her taut, discoloured face.

“Something changed him… And I’ll never know what. He was there for your birth, of course. He was always there for us. But he had become so withdrawn. So unlike the man I fell in love with. I know you must not understand now, Dieter, but remember this. Don’t forget it. One day… One day, you will feel the way I felt. You must hold onto it. You must hold onto the one you love. Do that for me, Dieter… Anyway…” she smiled at me again. Her eyes were so dim. Her grip on my hand was slack.

“Dieter… I love you. So much. And I need you to do something for me. You will, won’t you?” I nodded. She smiled.

“Grow up to be your own man, yes? Don’t let your father sway you. You can be anything you want, dear. My baby… You can do anything. Be anyone… Not your father… Don’t ever… Be like your father…” I told her I wouldn’t. I would make her proud, I said. I kissed her cheek and squeezed her hand, and told her I loved her too. “Dieter… Go now. Go study. You’re such a bright boy…” And so I left. I left and was too afraid to look back. I closed the door behind me, made my way down the hall, and met my father in the study.

He never said anything to me. He looked me right in the eyes, and never said a damned thing.

The years passed and he was brutal to me. I had no social life. I cooked and cleaned, did the dishes, the laundry, chopped wood in the middle of blizzards because he told me too. The time that wasn’t spent on house chores, I was studying. My grades were perfect, and my body became toned from the hard labour of housework, I was fairly good at phys. ed. I lived my life the way my father told me too, did everything the way he explained.

When I was of age, I enlisted in the military, like he had. I served a single tour, and when I returned I moved back in with my father. It was a couple years of verbal abuse and more hard labour before I entered medical school. I got my own apartment and stopped speaking to my father. I didn’t see him on birthdays or holidays, and the one time I sent him a letter, when I got my first Ph. D, he never replied. I kept an eye on the obituaries.

And now, here I am, and this is what I’m thinking. “Doktor… Come here.” Heavy smiles at me and I make my way to the infirmary bed. I know how uncomfortable he must be. Those beds are stiff and tough on anyone, let alone someone of Heavy’s stature. I don’t know if I should be happy that he won’t suffer for much longer…

“Doktor. I’m dying.” I nod. There’s a lump in my throat that won’t leave, so I swallow. I swallow. There’s so much I want to say but—
“Doktor, is ok. You don’t need to say anything. I know. Is kay. Come, Doktor.” I’m standing next to him, and he grabs my hand in his own. I remember what my mother said, and how I promised I would listen to her. I remember everything I’ve done with my life, and how it all broke that promise. Everything, except for Heavy.

Heavy was always the exception. My father, he would disapprove of us. He might even try to kill me, for disgracing the family. I’ve always taken pride in that. In Heavy. Big, strong, bear-like Heavy. To me, he was the perfect example of Man. Even now, on his deathbed, still so proud and sure. I don’t know how he does it.

He pulls me onto the bed, and so I sit. He chuckles, and pulls me down further, and so I lay next to him. With his arms around my waist and his chest under my cheek, he begins.

“Do you remember when we met, Doktor?” And of course I do. How could I forget? I remember stepping off that dusty train, and into a dustier desert. I remember a huge looming figure blocking out the sun. I don’t remember what he said as he scooped me into a huge, but I remember the bruises on my ribs after, the way he knocked my glasses around, mussed up my new lab coat. I remember looking up into a smile that stretched on forever across a stubbled face…

I start to well up and bury my face in Heavy’s shoulder. He only holds me tighter.

“I vas so excited to meet rest of team. Just me and Demoman and Spy on base for first week. Not much conversation, eheh… When I saw train coming, I rush to stop! I vas first! Only time Heavy is first.” I know he’s smiling, and I can feel him laughing more than I hear it. I smile too. “When Doktor steps off train, he look so upset. Such a frown, you get wrinkles, you know. I want dis guy to be happy, because he is with friends now, so I do what babushka does to cheer up. I give Doktor best hug I can, and-!... I think it worked? Hey? Because when Doktor look up at Heavy, he has smile.” I can’t help it. I sob into Heavy’s patient gown, darkening the ugly mint green. I’m crying, but I’m so happy, remembering everything about that first day together, that first week, month, kiss, fuck… The first time we said ‘I love you’. We didn’t often because we didn’t need to, but it was still nice to hear.

Heavy holds me tighter still. “Don’t cry Doktor. Be happy. Like when we meet.” His fingers tug my hair so gently, so betraying of the strength I know he holds. I look up at him. He slips my glasses off my nose and sets them on the side table. I swallow. I want to tell him I love him, tell him he was—is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Tell him that I never really lived until him. I swallow.

He wipes the tears from my cheeks with brief kisses and soft brushes of his thumb.

We kiss, and it’s so bittersweet, but that’s probably just more tears. I feel like such a fool. I try to say his name. I swallow. I sob into our kiss. Heavy tells me again, don’t cry, be happy, smile for me. And I get it.

The last time he sees me, he doesn’t want it to be like this. I get it. I suck it up, file this sadness and this hurt away for later, for when we get a replacement. I smile. The best, most honest smile I can manage. And I tell Heavy “Okay.” I say, and nod. “Okay.” And the grin I get from Heavy makes me forget the hurt for a minute.

We stay in that bed through the evening, into the night, just in each other’s arms. It feels like any other night, but there’s something off. Something surreal, like a dream, about it. But I’m still happy and still smiling. At some point the conversation stops and we’re just listening to each other breathe.

At some point, I’m only listening to myself breathe.