1 . Name: stubs @ 2011-01-01 23:43

So this is what I wrote for Cat for the SS. Enjoy.
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Prompt – anything with Heavy and Medic after the war

The year before, Medic had given him a framed photograph. One to place on shelves and mantels with his half dozen others. The exact same thing he’d been giving Heavy for Christmas every year since the divorce papers went through and they’d bought the house together.

The photographs were all something of the same, nine men standing lined up or sitting around a battered wooden table. A few of them had only eight men in it as their Spy always opted out of the photo to be behind the camera. But then one year Engie had invented a machine that took pictures using a timer, and Spy started appearing in more group shots.

Though this may have seemed like something of a repetitive gift, his former team meant everything to Heavy. He missed those days of noise and blood and everything great and invigorating. Everything he could get jailed for if anyone else outside of the companies knew about it.

Even more than he missed the battlefield and the rest of his team, he missed his Medic the most. He came back to visit during Christmas and whenever he got days off. They went on dates and spent as much time together as possible. But their brief reunions were always bittersweet, as Medic always had to go back to 2fort at the end of it all.

Heavy missed those two wonderful years after their contract had ended that they’d spent living together. They’d slept together and made love without fear of being caught by their team. That was probably the best of all, the not having to hide themselves or their love. Heavy had even almost convinced Medic to go to the local orphanage and adopt a child. A plan that was two years in the making, ruined by a couple of curt knocks on their door and a few silkily spoken words.

The day that Spy had come for Medic had been the same as any other day. Dreary and dull, the red of the Frenchman’s suit stood in stark contrast to the watercolour gray clouds in the sky. Heavy had been the one to answer the door as Medic had gone off to town to get groceries. With an oily smile, the Spy had outstretched his hand and held it daintily for Heavy to shake. Heavy did not. He only stared at the man in dislike. There was no need for introductions or false pleasantries here. They had met once before, when this RED Spy had been the one to replace their old one, the one who had deciphered the code in the intelligence and had intended to end the war with it. RED had taken care of him and had shipped in this imposter almost sooner than the body hit the floor. He was a slimy man, even less likable than the average Spy.

Heavy had asked what he wanted, and he’d withdrawn his hand with a frown and said that he needed to speak with Medic. Heavy had said that he was out, and the Spy had slid past him to explore their home entirely uninvited. When Heavy had asked him to leave, he had said that he would just wait until Medic returned. But Heavy knew better; the Spy wanted to look around and see if there were any illegal going-ons in their house. His first target was probably to find Sasha or the medigun. Unfortunately for him, Medic had turned his medigun over to RED when their contract had expired and Sasha was out in the shed, disassembled and dormant. They had nothing to hide.

When Medic returned, Heavy took the groceries from him and directed him to the room where Spy lurked, deeply engrossed in the team photographs scattered around the room. He left Medic to it, and went to the kitchen to put away the groceries.

As he was finishing, Medic and Spy emerged from the den, Spy looking smug and Medic indifferent. Spy let them then so that they could discuss things in private, but he need not have even done that. Medic talked as if he was presenting a lecture, emotionless and flat. By the end of the conversation, Heavy was in tears. RED was short a doctor and wanted Medic back, and he had agreed to return. Medic began telling him where the base was and how long the contract was, as if it was any consolation. It didn’t matter where Medic was station or how long, for any distance was like a thousand light-years and any amount of time was like a thousand eternities when he didn’t have Medic by his side.

Heavy had cried, begged him to reconsider, but he said he could not. He’d signed Spy’s contract and he was leaving in a week. Heavy asked him what Spy had done, how Spy had coaxed him out of retirement when he was so content living off the battlefield. Medic said Spy didn’t do anything, that he was needed and that he had already made his decision. Heavy knew that was a lie, of course. Medic couldn’t be bribed, but he could definitely be threatened.

On the day that Medic had to leave, Heavy had accompanied him to the train station and stood like a sad little puppy as he watched the train roll out. He knew Medic was not a fan of public displays of affection, but he had hoped to himself that he’d be spared a kiss or even an embrace to keep him company for the lonely days ahead.

All he received every month was a short letter. He didn’t understand all of the words because it had been written in German, but he understood enough. Work was fine, the new team was just like the old team, the battles were the same as they always were. He missed the days when they were in their first war and they’d go home for a month for Christmas and every week Heavy would receive a poetic, romantic letter, artfully written in his mother tongue and perfect in every way. When Medic took that second job, though, his letters were terse and lacklustre and seemed almost as if they were an inconvenience to write. Heavy had high hopes for a phone call, but Medic always used his monthly one on his ex-wife and daughters, making sure they were safe. Their lives had clearly been the chips that Spy had used to bargain with Medic.

Then it all came out. One letter lead to another, and finally Medic admitted to the more-than-platonic relationship he had with that slimy Spy. The man asked for no commitments from him, only sex, something Heavy had never been able to give him. He wrote that while he and Heavy had been in love, he was not a foolish teenager anymore and he had other things to be concerned with besides a Russian man waiting for him like some kind of wife and wanting to raise children with him. That had been the reason he’d left his wife and the reason he could not be with Heavy any more.

Heavy had written back dozens of desperate pleas for Medic to reconsider, that they didn’t have to adopt the kid or act like a married couple. He promised the he could be mature about their relationship and not force any commitment on to Medic. But every time, he would receive his letter back, a red ‘return to sender’ stamped onto it.

Then one day, six or seven years after he stopped sending the letters to Medic, he heard two very familiar curt knocks on his door. Getting to the door took more time than it used to, as he was a fair few years older than he’d been when he bought the house. When he opened the door, he froze. Just as he had been those years ago, on his doorstep stood that greasy RED Spy, looking a forced impression of forlorn and somewhat bored. His suit was black as the clouds in the sky behind him.

He cast dull gray eyes up to meet Heavy’s blue ones, and began. He said that he was regretfully informing him that at 0700 that past Thursday morning, the enemy team’s Sniper had dragged Medic out beyond the boundaries of respawn and had executed him. He said Medic’s body was being sent home to his ex-wife and daughters and that since Heavy had been on his first team, he saw fit to let him know.

Just as the Spy had turned to head off down the steps, Heavy let out a loud cry and lashed out. His hands hit Spy hard on the side of the neck. Heavy heard a loud crack and Spy fell to the snowy pavement in a heap. Heavy fell to his knees beside the body and buried his face in his hands. He stared down at the body between his fingers and trembled. It was something he saw often on the battlefield. A Spy with a broken neck wasn’t even a little bit unusual. That was war, and he loved it. So too had Medic. Figures that war, the one thing that had brought them together, would be what tore them apart.