Long time writer, first time poster. Putting up some of my old pieces that maybe others have seen and enjoyed, and hopefully get some feedback on how to improve/update them. --- I Saw That inspired by Shy-Light of Sparkledog Central It wasn't often that Pyro went through the trouble of cooking. Sure, having a pyromaniac around flames wasn't usually the best idea outside of battle, but it was the general consensus that he was the best cook on the team. Thing was, the days he ended up cooking usually ended up more than a little... Off. No one knew why, but for some reason, whenever Pyro got it in his head to make a meal, the team dynamic went haywire. Well, more so than usual. So he really shouldn't have been all that surprised when a fight broke out around the breakfast table the morning he decided to make pancakes. "That's it, you Kraut bastard! I'm gonna knock your teeth so far down your throat you'll be shitting fillings for weeks!" Soldier tackled Medic out of his seat, both men crashing to the ground in a furious, cursing heap. The German did his best to fight off his fanatical teammate, pounding on the man's broad shoulders for all the good it did. "Lassen Sie mich allein, sie Dummkopf!" (Leave me alone, you fool!) Pyro barely dodged the tumbling mass, carefully clutching the plate of pancakes close in an attempt to keep everyone's breakfast from getting ruined. However, he didn't take into account Medic's newly vacated chair skidding across the floor. It slammed into his legs, and the plate went flying. "Nuuuu! Ev'yuns brkfst!" The firebug spun around, desperate to at least try and rescue his hard work. Only to find it splattered all over the team's sharpshooter. Sniper just sort of stood there, syrup and half-melted butter dripping off his hat and down his face, a stunned expression upon his narrow features. Back at the table, Engineer was attempting to break up the rather uneven fight taking place on the dining room floor. "Now, fellas, can't y'all settle this more pragmatic- whoa there, Heavy!" The laid-back Texan narrowly dodged his large Russian teammate, the big man's jaw set and his massive hands curled into fists as he came to his doctor-friend's aid. "Unhand Doktor, leetle man!" And everything simply degenerated from there. Spy and Scout stood in the doorway, watching as Soldier screamed and attempted to fight off the enraged Heavy and keep his grip on the struggling Medic, who was being pulled out from under the pile by Engineer. Pyro was fussing over Sniper, trying to salvage as much of what remained of the team's breakfast as he could, much to the Australian's chagrin. Scout turned to Spy. "I am so not eating that, dude." "Oui. For once, I agree." The pair wandered into the kitchen, seeking out their own meal. Demoman wandered in a few moments later, Scrumpy in hand. For some seconds, the black Scotsman just stared bleary-eyed at the curious scene, the combination of his morning hangover and last night's lack of sleep slowing his comprehension. Finally, he blinked and gave his bottle of alcohol a long hard look, then shook his head. "Ah'm goin' back t'bed..."
ffff, just noticed I screwed up my title. The initial post is the fic "It Was A Monday" not "I Saw That". Good Lord, I'm screwing this up badly.
I like this story, it's cute
I smiled like a idiot by Pyro´s sentence. I mean Nuuu? This really pleases my headcanon of him.
I am eager to read more of this. I want to know why everything goes to Hell when Pyro cooks.
Please. Write more. I just love everything about this. Literally everything.
Wow! So many positive responses, and in just a day! Unfortunately, I only intended "It Was A Monday" to be a one-shot, since it was based off a short one-panel comic by Shy-Light. But I do have another cute-type short, inspired by another one of Shy-Light's comics. --- I Saw That (the real one!) inspired by Shy-Light of Sparkledog Central It really hadn't been the best day. Scout had sprained his ankle capturing the intelligence, Sniper had almost gotten backstabbed by the enemy Spy, Engie had lost everything he built to a Kritzed Demoman, and pretty much everyone else was just flat out exhausted. Which really wasn't all that surprising, since the enemy team had forged their registry and doubled their members on the field, as well as sabotaged the Announcer system so the timer was all kinds of screwed up. Medic had been the one to notice the fault, and Engie had had to fix the system while the rest of his teammates held off their attackers, though Pyro stayed behind to watch his back. In the end, everyone had made it back to base in one piece and they'd managed to capture the intelligence, so the team was being rewarded with a four-day weekend for their trouble. A specialist was going to be sent in at some point to take care of the system sabotage, since Engie really didn't know all that much about programming and had only been able to get the system shut down by cutting the power. Crude, but effective, as the Texan had put it. They were all gathered in the Rec Room, caked in sweat and dirt and too tired to get up from wherever they'd collapsed to head down the hall to the showers. Engie took up the far end of the couch, his work boots kicked over the armrest as he slumped up against Demo, who would have slid onto the floor if not for Heavy sitting himself there and leaning upon the battered coffee table. Scout took up the rest of the couch, his injured ankle propped up on the armrest to keep it elevated like Medic had told him to and his head in Demo's lap. Pyro was seated on a blanket on the floor beside Heavy, resting his head on the larger man's shoulder as if the Russian were simply a massive pillow. Medic had flopped into the spare recliner, draping himself across the cushioned armrests like a piece of damp cloth, and was slowly starting to slide towards the floor while Sniper drooped over the recliner's high back, arms crossed under his chin and hat pulled down over his eyes. Spy was nowhere to be found, but that wasn't anything unusual for the smarmy French bastard. Soldier stood leaning in the doorway, peering out from under his helmet to take in the curious sight made by his slumbering teammates. It was rather strange to see the normally boisterous group so peaceful, their efforts during the day's battle thoroughly exhausting even the exceedingly hyperactive Scout, but it was also sort of endearing, in that odd familial way that came about from people working together for a long time in close quarters. They'd probably all be sore in the morning if they all stayed as they were. Which would likely kill any good mood from earning a mini-vacation. Which would really kinda suck. "Hunh." A moment's thought, and Soldier started towards the sleeping Medic. Better take care of him first before he fell off the recliner and hurt himself. The German was completely dead to the world, sound asleep even as he was man-handled over Soldier's shoulder in a fireman's carry. He even started to snore, quite loudly in fact. Soldier allowed himself a quite snicker at Medic's expense as he marched down the hall towards his teammate's quarters, wondering if the man knew he sounded like a broken wood chipper. It was a simple matter to drop off the German in his bunk, making sure to remove his glasses and set them on the battered night table so they wouldn't get broken. "Seven more to go." Engie almost woke when he lifted the man from his cock-eyed seat, mumbling something incoherently under his breath as he threw his arm around Soldier's neck before conking out again. After that, the Texan barely even stirred, even when Soldier almost tripped over one of the many halfway dismantled machines scattered about the mechanic's room. Demo had moved by the time he made it back, filling the space left by his teammate's absence. Soldier just about laughed out loud when he saw the stocky Scotsman curled into a ball sucking his thumb like a little kid. As a personal joke, Soldier proceeded to piggy-back the black man to his room in the basement, chuckling under his breath the whole way. Sniper actually regained some level of consciousness when he tried to loop the lanky Australian's arm over his shoulder, swinging out with a mumbled curse and something about 'bloody Spies' before noticing Soldier. The sharpshooter blinked owlishly behind his yellow-tinted aviators, gave a grunt and let Soldier walk him to his preferred spot up in his sniping nest, passing out completely halfway there so his teammate had to resort to dragging him the last 40 feet. It was stupid of him to try and move Heavy, he knew it. But the Russian's room was the closest, so he figured he could at least drag the massive bear of a man the short distance required. Boy, was he proved wrong. The Russian was a big man made up of almost solid muscle, he had to be to carry around his chaingun like it was a Tonka toy, and that meant he was incredibly dense. Soldier managed to drag what felt like a good ton and a half of human being some ten or so feet, barely getting out the door and a few steps down the hall before he gave up, his back screaming pain. He managed to pop his spine back into place shortly afterwards, but it still hurt. Grumbling under his breath, he stomped into the Infirmary for a couple pain pills before tossing a blanket over Heavy and heading off to pick up the last two. Scout and Pyro were ridiculously easy to move after having to deal with that hulk of a Russian. The skinny Bostonian barely weighed anything, and Pyro was curled up on his blanket not unlike a sleeping dog. Looping an arm around Scout's waist, he hefted the boy as if he were little more than a sack of potatoes, grabbing the end of Pyro's blanket as he headed out, dragging the snoozing firebug along behind him as he headed off for their quarters. Neither even stirred. He dropped off Pyro first, nudging open the door with his foot and dragging the little critter into the center of the room, grabbing a pillow off the bed to toss to the firebug as he headed back out, Scout still under his arm. Soldier was a bit gentler with Scout, taking care not to bump the kid's injured ankle as he lay the skinny Bostonian in his bed, even going through the trouble of tucking a pillow under the sprained joint to keep it elevated like Medic wanted. Not that it mattered in the end, since Scout immediately rolled onto his front and hugged his pillow. Soldier couldn't help but smile at that. Out of all the members of the team, he'd connected with Scout the best. The boy reminded him of his own kid brother back home, and it was nice to feel like the fun older sibling every once in a while. Still smiling to himself, Soldier stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him. For a moment, he stood there, taking in the quiet of the slumbering base, then almost knocked his helmet off as his face was split open by a gigantic yawn. "Hunh. My turn." That said, he trudged off to his own room, oblivious to the distinctive sound of a cloak dropping. Spy smirked, watching his helmeted teammate trundle off to what was affectionately called the War Room. "Je t'ai vu, Soldat. Je t'ai vu." (1) --- (1) "I saw that, Soldier. I saw that." --- If there's any problems with the formatting and so on, please let me now. This is an oldie I've been meaning to get fixed.
Sure, spy saw it but did he help? Nope. Cute little story, I like seeing Soldier as human.
>>7 I love that comic and I love this retelling of it. It's great. Major major kudos ici. Your french is off, though. 'Je t'ai vu' means 'I saw you'. And it would only be said like that if Spy and Soldier were particularly close. It would be 'Je vous ai vu', because 'vous' is the more formal form of 'you', but that still translates to 'I saw you'. You want 'Je l'ai vu'. That means 'I saw that'. I fear I'm quickly becoming the French grammar nazi of this chan.
If all you wanted to do was describe the pictures down to the last detail, you certainly accomplished that. But why do that, when the pictures already tell the exact same story more or less at a glance? If you do want to update/redo these stories, I suggest writing around the events depicted in the artwork. That way the picture itself becomes a sort of "freeze-frame" of a larger story, a la Terato Marty's "The Kiss".
Really like both of these - haven't read the comics they're based on, so a really great read, and I'll be waiting to see any more you might have hidden away!
>>10 It wasn't just describing them. Scout's ankle, Soldier's motivation, the way he treated them, even how they got into this bit (exhaustion from battle and lounging around the...the lounge)- none of that is in the comic. I think Souly did a great job on this. Pardon the horrible nickname.
>>12 Yeah, that was a great start, but I kind of wish there was more. Original pictures It Was a Monday - http://shy-light.Sparkledog Central.com/art/It-Was-a-Monday-142830119 I Saw That - http://shy-light.Sparkledog Central.com/art/I-Saw-That-143097271
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>>10 "But why do that, when the pictures already tell the exact same story more or less at a glance?" Because some of us like to read, and the fic gave so much more information.
@Iz: Thank you very much for the grammar correction, I'm afraid I used an online translator to try and fix Shy-Light's and didn't do any better. @dotchan: These fics are actually old ones and I intended them to be one shots to begin with to present my interpretation of the simple comics as well as attempt warming up for a Creative Writing class I was in at the time. I've since moved on and worked on longer, more detailed pieces. Hopefully I'll be able to put some of them up here. But thank you very much for your suggestions, I'll see if I can't get my writing muse back in shape. @ everyone else: Thank you for reading! It really does the heart good to have pieces I enjoyed writing so much being so postively received.
Another old one shot. Have tissues on hand. The Dragon Fly A Team Fortress 2 fan fiction Summary: It was best when Daddy came home. Inspired by Racoon-sama of Sparkledog Central. --- Ethan never really fit in with the other kids his age. It wasn't that he didn't try, it was just that they never really got along all that well. The other kids would go on about sports and superheroes and dragons and stuff, while he liked to figure out how things worked and why. He liked sports and superheroes and dragons, but they just weren't as interesting as dismantling the toaster. Mummy didn't like it when he'd done that, but she'd been happy when he'd put it all back together and it worked like it was supposed to. "You really are your father's son." She'd ruffled his hair and gave him a cookie. M&M, his favorite. Mummy always liked it when he made something new, whether it was a little doo-dah thing that really didn't do much or one of his projects trying to improve on the things lying around the house. She made sure to take him down to the scrap yard every few weeks, just so he could dig up a few odds and ends to use for parts. The caretaker was a really nice old guy that smelled like oil and sawdust and sometimes had a lollipop for him. Everyone was really nice, and he knew for a fact that he had it pretty good. But it was best when Daddy came home. It didn't happen all that often, but whenever they got the call that his Daddy would be on the next train into town, everybody got big smiles and would get all happy and excited. He liked it when everybody smiled, especially his Mummy. She looked pretty when she smiled. When Daddy came home, it was like nothing could ever go wrong. He'd come off that early morning train in his big brown overalls and his yellow hat and Mummy would get tears in her eyes, but she never stopped smiling. Ethan would always get antsy and run to greet his Daddy, even though Mummy always told him to wait, and Daddy would just smile and catch him and Ethan would hug his Daddy as tight as he could, just so Daddy would know how much he was missed. Each time Daddy came home, it would start off the exact same way. They'd get Daddy home, he'd take a really long shower and then he'd sleep for the rest of the day. Mummy said this was cause his job was really stressful and he didn't usually get to sleep very well, so he caught up when he got home. Ethan always made sure to get all his doo-dahs and projects together while Daddy was asleep, so he could show him what he'd been working on while Daddy'd been away, and he would follow Mummy into the bedroom when she put together a meal on a tray for Daddy's breakfast. Then, while Daddy ate, Ethan would show off all his little creations, sitting on the bed next to him and showing him what they could do. Sometimes, Daddy would have an idea on how to make them better, and then Ethan would run off to his room for the toolbox Daddy had made him for Christmas so they could tinker together. No one was ever sad when Daddy was home. The whole town threw a party whenever he came back, all 500 people crammed into the high school auditorium to celebrate his Daddy coming home. Sometimes the party was the day after he arrived, sometimes it was just before he left, but they always made sure to have a party for him. Ethan loved those parties. The other kids would actually play with him then, and they wouldn't complain when he started talking about his projects. They always thought it was cool that he could build things like his Daddy did. Daddy wasn't usually home very long. Usually a week or two, though sometimes he'd get a whole month off. One year, he'd been able to stay for a two months. That was Ethan's favorite year, cause he'd been able to celebrate three different holidays with his Daddy, including his birthday. It wasn't often that his Daddy got to stay for the holidays or his birthday, but it was always fun when he did. One Halloween, Daddy had helped him build his costume, a robot like the ones on TV that could turn into cars. Ethan still had the costume in the back of his closet, even though he'd long since grown out of it. It was too precious to throw away. He liked how his Daddy liked to build things, just like him. They'd spend hours off in the backyard shed, tinkering away with all the bits and bobbles Ethan had collected. Some of Ethan's favorite toys had come from these tinkering sessions, the best of which being a little green remote control dragon that could actually fly. He'd named it Chester, after the scrap yard caretaker who'd provided most of the parts with a broken down lawnmower motor. He remembered going to the park to test it, going to the top of the biggest hill in the whole place when the weather was just right. Daddy had shown him how the controls worked, even though they'd gone over them back in the shed, and then lifted him up onto his shoulders. Chester had flown beautifully, zooming through the warm afternoon air on a jet of bright orange flame. It was his favorite memory of his Daddy, being perched up on his big strong shoulders and leaning on that bright yellow hard hat, watching the dragon fly. They ended up walking home just as the sun was setting, sharing a root beer from the general store, Chester in his Daddy's big hip pouch. Mummy was waiting on the porch when they got home, and he remembered how her face got bright the moment she saw them coming down the street. She'd been worried about them, cause it had gotten so late and they'd only meant to go out for a couple hours. Daddy had apologized, and Mummy had just smiled. He liked it when his Mummy smiled. Sometimes, Daddy would have nightmares. Most of the time, Mummy could make them go away and Daddy would be fine, but sometimes, he'd wake up screaming in the middle of the night. It wasn't often, but it happened. He would usually yell about someone named Spy or Medic, but every once in a while, he would just scream. Scream and scream and scream until his voice gave out. When that happened, Ethan made sure to come running, cause Mummy would get hit if she tried to calm him down. For some reason, only Ethan could get through when his Daddy screamed, but it was okay. Ethan knew his Daddy never meant to hurt anyone, he was just scared. He'd asked once, about the nightmares. Daddy had gotten very quiet, and stopped smiling for a long, long moment before answering. "Bad memories, son. Bad memories you don't need to know about." Ethan had given his Daddy a big hug after that, and never asked again. If Daddy didn't want to tell, that was alright with him. Daddy really didn't like to talk about his work, he'd said once that he preferred to "keep mah mind at home", but every once in a while, he'd tell stories about the men he worked with. Funny things, mostly; pranks Scout had pulled, Heavy's love of sandwiches, Pyro trying and failing to cook, once even a joke Demoman had told about sheep. It was fun to hear about all the different people his Daddy worked with. Mummy called them "good" people, cause they kept his Daddy safe. Ethan once asked what Daddy needed to kept safe from, but Mummy never answered. He found out the hard way. Daddy had called ahead like he always did before coming home, and everyone in town was buzzing, getting ready for the welcome home party, when Mummy got a letter. It was hand delivered by a stern looking older lady in a big black car he'd never seen before, and Mummy had gone very pale when she'd been handed the thick white envelope. Mummy had stared at the letter until the lady left, and was real quiet when she went into the house. He knew something was wrong, he just didn't know what. Then, Mummy opened the envelop and Daddy's goggles fell out on the floor. The strap was broken, and the glass in one side was cracked. Ethan remembered picking them up off the carpet, and looking up to see Mummy reading the letter. She was crying. "Mummy? What's wrong?" Red-rimmed eyes, so sad. He hated it when Mummy was sad. It meant something had hurt her, and nobody hurt his Mummy. "Mummy?" She folded up the letter with shaking hands, and knelt down beside him on the carpet, curled her arms around him, held him close and just cried, real quiet-like. She cried for a long, long time, and he let her hold him, even though she squeezed him kinda hard, cause she looked like she needed a hug. It took her a long time to finally stop crying, even longer to let him go. Her face was all red and splotchy, her make-up streaked and messy. But her eyes were what told him. Dull and glassy and so very sad, gone hollow. "Y-You're Daddy ain't comin' home, baby." "Why?" Mummy sniffled, and he reached over and got her a tissue from the box next to the telephone. He patted her face dry, cause she didn't want to let him go, and she smiled a little because of it, but it never reached her eyes like a real smile did. "A bad, bad man pretended t'be one o' your Daddy's friends an' hurt him. He hurt him real bad, baby." She hugged him close, and he let her, knowing she needed the comfort. "They tried t'fix him, they did their best, but-" He could see the tears filling up her eyes, and he knew. "Daddy didn't make it, did he." Mummy started crying again. He let her.
Kudos for trying to write from a little kid's perspective. Trying to do that realistically is very difficult. However, it feels more like "adult writer trying to write from a little kid's perspective" than an actual kid. Couple of things: - How old is Ethan? I can't pick up any clues from the narrative, and while he doesn't have to be 100% consistent, it's difficult to emphasize when I as a reader can't tell at what level of maturity he's processing the world around him. Is this Ethan-the-child telling the story as it happened, or Ethan-the-adult looking back on his childhood? - Almost everything in the story is told in summary. For example, when you talk about Ethan's knack for building things (which you state is his favorite thing to do), they're all glossed over very briefly in the style of "and then X happened, and then Y happened, and then Z happened". If they're events that he considers important, go into details. You don't need to tell us "Ethan doesn't get along with kids his own age" in the narrative if all of Ethan's memories are of him tinkering by himself or with his father. My favorite part of this was Chester the Dragonfly--that was the point of the story where I actually could identify with Ethan, and in my opinion it was over too quickly. - I also feel that the story ended too soon. We only get Ethan's mother's reaction of losing her husband. Ethan himself still doesn't seem to have grasped that Daddy's never coming home again. Even if the story is technically about the Engineer, Ethan still needs to be a well-rounded character since he's the one you picked as the narrative and not an abstract "camera".
@dorchan: Thank you for the feedback. This is another old one I'd like to fix up and you pointed out a lot of things I hadn't even thought of, so I'll be going back and editing like a crazy person next I get the chance. Considering the summary parts, from what I recall of writing this, I was trying to keep the story short and not detail too much so that the reader could visualize what they wanted, something that I'm really not good at since I love to go into detail and really spell things out. Were I to rewrite this piece, it would most likely turn into a two parter and I'd spend a lot more time developing Ethan. Again, thank you very much for the feedback, I shall definitely put it to good use.
Wow, long time no update. Figured I'd finally put up some of my newer work, though I really haven't done a stand alone piece in a long while. This is a story I wrote with my friend roseduelist some time ago that I was finally able to get composited and edited just last night, and I like the concept quite a lot, so here it is. WARNING: This story contains non-consensual human experimentation, reference to WW2, FTM and MTF transformation. There is also a small mentioning of a hybrid type, not fully human creature. You have been warned. --- Broken Past --- The Scout caught another canned beer, sitting back down on the ground near the fire. "Thanks Solly! This idea was freaking awesome man!" The Soldier just grunted, giving a shrug. "Figured we could let off a little steam after the last victory." Behind the Soldier, the team's Sniper laughed as he leaned up against the infantryman, more than a few beers already in the gangly sharpshooter. "Aye, fair dinkum shindig this!" He broke out into a childish fit of giggles, his hat going askew as he slumped limply against his helmeted teammate. Across from the cheerily drunken Australian staring blankly at the little campfire the Pyro was quite enthralled with, the Medic sat quiet, nursing his own beer as he hid in the Heavy's shadow. He wasn't usually much for things like this, too shy and awkward around his teammates outside of battle, but the big Russian had insisted, and he'd learned early on that he had a hard time refusing the hulking giant of a man who cooed over the small animals and stray cats that often wandered through the base. The large Russian let out a booming laugh. "This ez very good, da? Party ez good for team!" He looked over to the Medic to make sure he was at least trying to have a good time. Feeling his friend's eyes on him, the doctor looked up and managed a small smile. For a man his age, the Medic was a surprisingly young-looking person, blonde haired and blue-eyed with soft features that looked almost feminine in the firelight. The Scout watched the two of them from afar and blinked a few times before rubbing his eyes. "Damn, need to get some tail soon. I could swear Medic was a chick there," he muttered to himself. The Heavy then attempted to pour some more alcohol down the Medic's throat. "Drink, doktor! Drink and be merry!" Voicing a startled yelp, the doctor coughed and spluttered, pushing away his enthusiastic companion and tumbling backwards off the log-come-bench that was serving as his seat. He righted himself quickly, red-faced as he straightened his narrow half-moon spectacles. "Mein freund, I can serve meinself, danke..." Across the fire, the Sniper giggled. The Engineer yawned, getting to his feet and stretching. "I reckon it's time for me to hit the hay. Gotta repair a few things in the mornin'." "Ah, guten nacht, Herr Engineer. Sleep vell." The Medic sat himself down once more as the Texan took his leave, exhaling a soft sigh as he returned to his beer. It had been a long time since he'd had alcohol. A very, very long time... Frowning at the memory struggling to resurface, the doctor quickly downed half the can in his grasp, shuddering at the foul aftertaste and wishing it were proper Deustch bier at hand rather than this piss-poor excuse the Americans brewed. He was careful not to say as such out loud, knowing the Soldier would take great offense to the slight against his country's alcohol. "If Doktor needs something much strong, can haff my vodka," Heavy said with a smile before offering him the large bottle. A moment of wariness, and the Medic nodded. "Dankeschon..." He set aside the mostly empty can before tentatively reaching for the offered bottle. It was heavy in his hands, and smelled quite strongly, but he took a sip anyway. The face he made at tasting the clear liquor was not unlike someone having just been punched in the gut, but he managed to swallow, coughing afterward. "Mein Gott, zhat ist strong." "Of course. Only the best, da?" The large Russian said before taking the bottle from his hand and getting another swig. "Once you get fuzzy feeling, eet's not as bad." A slow nod, the doctor tilting his glasses back to rub at his now-watering eyes. "Wasever you say..." When the bottle was offered back, the Medic hesitated only a moment before taking it again, bracing himself for the sharp burn before downing a good swallow. He very nearly couldn't keep it down, his whole body shuddering. "Now relax, Doktor," the Heavy assured him before capping the bottle. He had a feeling his Medic was a light weight with hard alcohol. Scout laughed before taking another drink of his beer. Casting a sharp glare towards the young runner, the Medic did his best to follow his friend's instructions, swallowing hard to make sure the vodka wouldn't be making a return appearance before leaning up against the big Russian. He stared blankly at the campfire, watching the Pyro poke the flames with bits of sticks and occasionally tossing in an empty beer can to watch the tin melt. The Sniper had long since passed out, snoring softly from his place draped across the Soldier's lap, and the doctor couldn't help but smile at seeing how the normally rough-and-tough infantryman gently removed the marksman's glasses, tucking the yellow-tinted aviators into the man's pocket so they wouldn't fall and get damaged. Scout was too carefree to be intimidated the glare and started drinking another beer. "Lighten up! I swear you get more pissy than a chick." Perhaps it was the alcohol, or maybe something else, but the Medic couldn't bring himself to voice a cross retort to the Bostonian's insult. Instead, he sighed, leaning a bit more on the Heavy as he brought his knees to his chest. "Just ignore him doktor. Leetle Scout ez just big talker because he never had woman," he said with a smile. That elicited a snicker from the Spy and a blush from the Scout. Despite the reassurance, the doctor made no reply, simply curling up tighter. He could sort of feel that fuzziness the Heavy had mentioned, and wondered if blurred vision was also caused by the strong alcohol. He had to admit, he was less than experienced with the whole 'getting intoxicated' idea. The last time he'd gotten drunk... The Scout just smiled and lightly punched him on the arm. "Hey, I didn't mean ta get ya down, I mean you're cool and all." With declining coordination, the doctor tried to wave off the young runner, pulling away and unbalancing himself. He tumbled off the bench, thudding hard on the dusty ground. But instead of righting himself like the last time, the Medic curled up in a ball right there in the dirt, looking very small and tired as he stared off into the middle distance, unaware of the tears beading in his eyes. The Heavy pushed the Scout out of the way and shook his head. "Scthupid Scout! Go avay! Do not touch!" He picked up the small German and headed toward the base. The Medic made no protest, unusual for the normally feisty little doctor. He turned and hid his face against the Heavy's chest, one gloved hand finding the Russian's shirt and gripping on tight. "I didn't mean ta-" The Scout started to protest before he was stopped by Spy. "Leave zhem be. It would cause more trouble trying to apologize right now. Give him time to recover." It turned out to be good advice, as the vodka started to kick in properly and the Medic's normally tight control wavered. As he was carried into the familiar safety of the Infirmary, his breath hitched and his grip on the Russian's shirt tightened. "E-Es tute mier leid..." The Heavy just shushed the Medic in his arms. "Do not worry, you just need to sleep off. I should apologize. Did not know you are crying drunk." "Nein, ist nicht- is n-not-" He hiccuped, voice soft when he spoke again. "Ich- I h-have nicht- Gott, I vas sehr schtupid..." "What do you mean stupid. You are very smart man. Very smart doctor. Do not fret," he said patting him on the head. "Pfft, smart /man/..." The word was spoken as if it left a sour taste in the doctor's mouth, and he tried to sit up, very nearly toppling from the Russian's grasp entirely. His graying ash-blonde hair was a tousled mess, pulling loose from the short ponytail he normally kept it in, and his glasses balanced precariously on the very tip of his thin nose. "Vouldn't be. Schouldn't- Ist nicht- I schould nicht be..." He patted him on the shoulder. "Do not fret. Doktor, please do not worry. Worry only makes bad memories get worse." The Medic tried to wave off the kindly gesture, his fingers catching on his teammate's. He paused, seeing his own gloved hand in comparison to the Russian's, and exhaled a sad sigh as he lined them up. "Ich bin ein Fehler... I am nicht was everyone zhinks I am." "What do you mean Doktor?" he asked before pulling his hand away from the Medic's. "Do you have secret?" A pause, followed by a slow nod. "Somezhing like zhat, I suppose... It ist mehr painful zhan anyzhing else..." The doctor slumped tiredly against the Heavy's broad chest, staring blankly at his own hand resting in his lap. In his mind's eye, he imagined what they used to look like, back when he was much younger and hadn't even thought of taking up medicine as a career. When /he/ hadn't been /he/... "Tell me, friend. Nikolai is here to listen to problems, da?" the big Russian said, lightly rubbing his Medic's back in a hopefully soothing gesture. For a moment, the doctor made no reply, then exhaled a soft sigh as he started to pull off his gloves, one finger at a time. "I did nicht know besser at zhe time. Vier- Ah, fourteen. Zw- Two years into zhe var..." One glove off, the hand underneath pale and thin and scarred, fingernails completely missing. "I vas vith mein Tanztruppe; meine Lehrerin und mein fellow studentin. Zhere vere fourteen of us, fifteen vith zhe teacher." The other glove, this hand equally pale and scarred, the flesh warped like a chemical burn across the palm. "I had never been to Berlin before..." "Tanztruppe...? You were a dancer?" the Heavy asked in amazement. For the first time that night, the Medic actually smiled, his eyes closed as he chuckled. "Ja, I vas. Ballet..." "Vere you good at the art, doctor?" he asked with a smile as he watched the Medic reminisce. A nod, the smile broadening. "Ja, vone of zhe best in mein class." The doctor shifted, leaning a bit more comfortably against the big Russian's chest. "Ve vere all hand-picked for zhe trip. Out of almost zwei hundert studentin, vierzehn. I felt sehr lucky..." He smiled and wrapped his arms around him. "Zhen what happened Doktor? Were you famous? Big star?" The smile faded, turning into a thin, sad frown. "Nein... Nein, ich- I vas nicht. I never made it zhrough Berlin..." "Why not?" Heavy cooed while rocking him back and forth. "Ist mein own fault..." The Medic opened his eyes, staring blankly down at his scarred hands. "It vas war-time, und eurhe Lehrerin varned us, but ve vere all young und feelingk rebellious- Schtupid, ist mehr like it. But ve did nicht know any besser..." "What could you have possibly done?" the Heavy said keeping the doctor on his lap. "Did you spit in soldier's face?" A sharp, mirthless laugh. "I might as vell have." He sighed, rubbing a thumb over the warped burn scar. "It vas zhe night before zhe big performance. Some of zhe older Frauleins heard zhere vas ein underground bar zhat did nicht require identification, und convinced some of zhe younger of us to come vith. Meine beste Freundin, Genevieve, she convinced me to go vizh..." The Medic bowed his head, hands folding together into a tight knot. "I vas sehr /schtupid/..." Heavy just listened, ready to comfort the Medic when he needed it. His friend was always a little shy, and physically much weaker than himself, so he had always had the drive to protect his doctor, even from his own nightmares. "I vas alvays zhe responsible vone, kept zhe ozzers out of trouble, und I vas determined to continue. But Genni... She vas alvays gute at zhe persuading..." The doctor gave a soft groan, freeing a hand to rub at his temple, unwittingly pulling a few extra curls loose to fall about his face. "I said eins bier, eins und kein mehr. I zhink she had it refilled behind my back, it never got mehr zhen half-empty..." "So she vas drunk?" he asked trying to get a good feel of the situation. A snort. "Ja, und meinself. I lost mein gute sense, und vith zhat came considerable lack of judgment." The Medic straightened, looking up across the room with a frown. "I did nicht know zhe man vas ein officer... He vas just- Sehr pushy und I vanted to smack him but I did nicht vant to get kicked out-" He shook his head, a hand to his mouth, fingers pressing against his lips. "I should nicht have kissed Genni..." "Wait, I am getting confused, was Officer a homosexual?" the Heavy said, not quite getting the picture. A soft laugh. "Nein... Nein, I vas zhe homosexual zhat night..." "But Doktor, that does not make sense, you are man, she is woman and Officer is man, how does that make you gay?" he asked still scratching his head. "I vas nicht ein Mann zhen, mein Freund... I vas nicht born zhe vay I am now." The Heavy took several minutes to process the new information. "You were woman? But Doktor, I haff seen you in showers, you have penis and everyzhing!" The doctor blushed at the mention of the showers, but his expression remained downcast, his eyes falling to his hands. "I did nicht used to..." "How could this happen?" Nikolai asked with a frown, trying to make sense of all of this. "Remember zhat man I mentioned? Zhe officer?" The Medic gave a soft, mirthless chuckle. "He did nicht take too kindly to being shunned by a little lesbian ballerina, und he just sehr happened to vork at ein Reich research facility..." "And you were... Lab rat?" the Heavy guessed, still not quite sure if he could believe the story. "In a sense, ja." The doctor reached up, pulling out his short ponytail and sending the short blonde waves tumbling down about his face. In that one motion, the idea of his masculinity was severely rocked, even more so when his glasses were removed. He looked almost like a whole different person, all soft edges and large eyes with long lashes normally hidden behind the protection of lenses. A hand lifted, thin fingers smoothing through those soft locks and lifting, displaying a long scar curved across his scalp. "Zhat is vhere zhey broke und reshaped mein skull. Zhey zheorized zhat homosexuality vas caused by a person not having been born zhe correct sex, in zhe correct body." "Doktor..." he looked over the other's injury, ghosting his fingers over the scar. "I could have never guessed!" he exclaimed before it dawned on him that what the Scout had said was what set the Medic off. "I kill Scout!" A scarred hand reached up, taking hold of a few of the Heavy's thick fingers. "Nein, mein Freund. He does nicht know any besser, und... I vould honestly prefer to keep it zhat vay." There were many other scars hidden under the doctor's clothing, most of them faded from time and exposure to the regenerative qualities of the MediGun, but still there. Still reminders. "It ist nicht his fault anyvay. Und zhose responsible... Zhey are long gone by now." The man's face fell before pulling the Medic into a hug. "I am so sorry you went through much pain." Leaning into the warm embrace, the doctor exhaled a soft sigh, feeling the old hurt well up from the unhealed emotional wounds. "Dankeschon, mein Freund..." After a moment, the Medic straightened, rubbing a hand across watering eyes. "Ach, es tute mier leid. I am getting dein vest vet..." The Heavy shushed him and patted his back. "The vest will dry." Then the Heavy pulled away. "If it makes Doktor feel better, I have sort of secret as well." Trying to stop the tears still burning against his eyelids, the Medic looked up at hearing the big Russian's confession, confusion evident. "Ja...?" "I was called a gay man by Communist party. Thought because I was unwilling to get married or have babies, that it meant I was not doing duty as a man. I was sent to a Gulag. But I built too strong to die," he started to say while looking toward his work partner. "The truth? I do not feel anything, for men or for women." "You are... Asexual, zhen?" The doctor smiled, chuckling softly before trailing into a sigh. "I- I am sorry, zhat you vere persecuted in such a vay. But- " Shifting his weight, the Medic turned, returning the hug his friend had given him. "I am glad zhat you survived." Heavy nodded. "Da. I am glad I survived too. Maybe both our hardship iz sign we should work together, be stronger in life." A soft laugh. "Just as on zhe battlefield, ja? Gute team..." The doctor gave a soft moan, a hand lifting to his head. "Nnn... I zhink dein vodka ist starting to go to mein head..." He nodded and started to tuck the Medic into bed. "Just sleep off. That and coffee will fix," the Heavy assured him. Thank goodness his room was connected to the Infirmary... The German flopped limply onto the narrow bunk, fumbling for a pillow and hugging it to his chest like a child with a teddy bear. He managed a small, somewhat strained smile as the big Russian helped him with his boots, and took hold of the man's thumb before he could leave. "Dankeschon, mein Freund. For everyzhing." "You are welcome Doktor. Now get some sleep, you will have bad hangover if you get leetle rest," he said with a smile before heading to his own bunk. A faint chuckle. "Zhere are pills for zhat, but zhe sentiment is appreciated." Releasing his grip, the Medic lay back, pulling up the covers and curling up around the pillow he still hugged. "Gute nacht, Nikolai. Schuzze traume..." In a few short moments, the doctor was fast asleep, still mostly dressed and not of the mind to care.
Part 2 --- That next morning, after the initial alarm that woke everyone up, Scout dressed and even had some breakfast before he got up the gumption to knock on the door of the Infirmary. He really felt bad that the Doc got all upset the other night and wanted to apologize. The Medic was extremely reluctant to get up, his head pounding and innards churning, but the sharp bleep of the base alarm was all but impossible to ignore, especially with his hangover causing him to be very sensitive to sound. Dragging himself out of bed, he shuffled over to the intercom buzzer, smashing a thumb on the proper button to get it turned off. "Gott, mein kopf..." Fumbling for his glasses, the doctor made his way into the medbay proper, and was digging through his cabinets for some aspirin when he heard the knock on his door. Not particularly of the mind to care about his rumpled appearance, he downed a couple of the small white pills with some water from the sink and went to answer the door, tousled hair and all. "Ja...?" When the Scout noticed the loose waves framing the doctor's face, he couldn't help but gape in amazement. This guy was gorgeous! Wait, what? The Scout did a double take before clearing his throat and trying to gather himself. "Look, I just wanted t'apologize f'last night. I was actin' like a jackass." It took a moment for the words to register, and the Medic smiled, giving a soft laugh. "It ist alright, Herr Scout. You did no wrong. But I appreciate zhe gesture none zhe less." He straightened, hand lifting to cover a yawn before running through his hair, pulling it back from his face. "Vas zhere anyzhing else?" The youth stood dumbfounded for a while before he snapped out of it. "Sorry, guess there's nothin' to say," he said before trying to walk away with his dignity intact. Another soft laugh, the doctor managing a small smile. "Zhat ist alright. It vas gute to see you anyvay. Vould you mind telling zhe ozzers I am nicht feeling vell?" A wry chuckle. "I seem to have drunk far too much last night..." "Oh...uh, sure. No problem," he said, scratching the back of his head as backed up, not looking where he was going and eventually tripped over his own feet. In his embarrassment, he scrambled up quickly and practically ran off. Seeing the runner fall, the Medic immediately moved to help, but by the time the door was all the way open, the boy was already gone. "Vell... At least he ist alright..." Shaking his head, the doctor retreated towards his own quarters, meaning to nap for a bit until the medication kicked in. The young runner was all but ready to just die from his own shame. Why was he acting like some idiot with a crush? Medic was a guy! In quite the crisis, the Scout had no clue what to do. The common room was practically empty when the Bostonian came stumbling in, the majority of the team sleeping off their own hangovers. Only the Pyro and the Sniper were there, the firebug contentedly cleaning his flare gun while the marksman lay slumped against the counter over a mug of hot coffee. He groaned at hearing the Scout come in, the boy's cleats clattering on the concrete floor. "Oi, lay off the racket..." "What do ya mean racket? I was just walkin' heah," the Scout said with his arms crossed in a defensive position. "Wasn't my fault ya can't hold your liquor." The marksman just groaned, arm lifting to flop over his hat in a pitiful attempt to cover his ears. "Shouldn'a 'ad that twelfth beer..." Pyro gave a sharp snort, shaking his head and voicing what could have been a lecture of some kind under his breath. He just sighed and then half heartedly said, "Oh yeah, Medic's not feeling too good. He's sleeping it off." He headed to the kitchen to get a glass of water for himself. "Ey...?" The Sniper peeked out from under his hat, cringing at the clatter of the boy's cleats. "Didn' 'e have some'a the Ruski's pisswater?" "Yeah, I guess so. Didn't think too much of last night," he shrugged before taking a sip of water from his glass. He needed to hydrate if he was going out running. A somewhat impressed-sounding grunt. "Huh. Doc can sure hold his liquor..." He nodded. "Probably cause the Medic's a freaking Kraut. They know how to hold it together like that," he answered before refilling his glass. "Can't argue wi'that..." The marksman was quiet a moment, then gave a soft snort. "Solly'll be so pissed." "Yeah..." Still there was something bugging the back of the Scout's mind. "Hey, Sniper. Do you think it's possible to get beer goggles during a hangovah?" A pause, the sharpshooter straightening to give the boy a bewildered look. "What?" The Scout scratched the back of his head, not feeling completely comfortable talking to him. "Never mind. Forget I said anythin." "Nah, run tha' by me 'gain. What'd y'say?" The Sniper sat up properly, his interest peaked. "Look man, you can't freakin' laugh or tease or any of that crap alright?" he practically pleaded. "Ey, what're friends for? 'Sides, y'didn' when I told ya 'bout Solly, least I can do." "Alright so I was lookin' at the Doc when I went by his office. I think I was an ass to him last night, and figured the least I oughta do was apologize." He started pacing the room. "I go over there , and the Doc opens the door with his hair all down. I swear the guy looked like some sorta tomboy dame or somethin. I had to bail as quick as I could, man." The marksman watched as the boy paced, taking a sip of his coffee while Pyro simply ignored the whole proceeding. At the mention of the Medic's appearance, the Sniper gave a knowing murmur. "Ah, so i's that then." "I think I'm going either queer or crazy. Maybe even both," he said, still pacing around the room. "I don't think that's normal!" "Nah, y'not the first t'notice." Leaning back in his chair, the gunman tugged his hat down to keep the lamplight out of his eyes, taking another sip of coffee. "Bloke's always looked a bit girly, just hard t'notice most o' the time. Lemme tell ya, walkin' in on him gettin' outta the shower..." The Australian gave a low whistle, shaking his head. "That was more'n a little surprisin'." "So, ya saying that he just looks that way, cause he was born that way or somethin'?" he asked trying to process all of it. "And that it doesn't make me queer ta notice?" "Looked like that long as I've known 'im..." The Sniper chuckled, smirking behind his mug. "Nah, it don' make ya anythin'. Y'either are, or y'ain't. Though, some're both..." A pause, and the marksman shrugged. "D'pends upon you really. Yer choice." The Scout sighed. "Y'don't get it man. Back where I'm from if you were, your skull was bashed in by the other guys on the streets. It ain't something you can be without getting' inta danger." A short snort, the Australian peering over the rim of his mug. "An' y'don' think Australia's done the same?" The Sniper sat up, setting his coffee aside. "Look, not everybody's gonna be supportive, but that don' mean it's wrong. It don' make ya anyone but y'self..." The marksman paused, then gave a soft chuckle. "M ramblin', aren't I." "Just a little," the Scout answered, still in a puddle of confusion. "Guess I was just overreacting a little bit earlier. If I was a queer, I'd be coverin' everythin' in pink by now or somethin'." A short pause, Pyro and Sniper exchanging a glance, then both burst out laughing, the firebug wheezing through the filter of his gasmask while the gunman very nearly careened headfirst out of his chair. "What th' hell's so funny? Isn't it what guys like that do?" he asked a little confused about the laughter. The Sniper struggled to get a hold of himself, a hand to his mouth to stifle his amused snorting, tears in his eyes from laughing so hard. He finally managed, still chuckling a bit as he took off his glasses to wipe his eyes. "Oh my Lord, haven' laughed that hard in ages... Scout, where in the name of sanity did you hear that crock o' shite?" His face started to turn red as he answered. "My brothas. I guess then they were tricking me bout that too, huh?" "Not entirely, but mostly." The marksman sat up, replacing his glasses and straightening his akubra. "Remember what I told you about Solly an' me?" "Well, not really. I kinda thought it was cause there was no women around here," he said sheepishly. The Australian nodded, sitting up in his chair. "Fair assumption, it does happen. But me? Never liked shelias." Once he registered what 'sheila' meant, the runner gawked. "But you're so freakin', like, manly man..." A soft chuckle. "Aye, an' what of it?" The gunman took a sip of his coffee, leaning casually against the table. "Just 'cause I don' find ladies appealin' that way don' make me any less good at m'job or less likely t'take y'head off." "Still, I mean, I heard that all guys who like dick talk with a funny lisp and were total wimps that shave their legs," he said defensively. In the middle of sipping his coffee, the Sniper choked at hearing the young runner's description, very nearly snorting coffee out his nose. Coughing, the marksman gave his younger teammate a look of complete shock. "Excuse me?!" He had a feeling he had accidentally insulted him again. "Well yeah. That's what they all tell me." "Oh my Lord..." The gunman slapped a palm to his face, heaving a sigh and wincing slightly as he was reminded of his hangover. Once composed, he straightened, giving the Scout a decidedly unamused look. "I'll admit there's a few nutters that do that kind of thing, but y've got those in the straight community too. Most are just normal blokes like you an' me. Just so happen t'like other blokes." "So there's no real way to figure out which kind of guys like guys then? Like, unless they tell ya, then they are just normal people?" he asked just to get some sort of clarification. A thin smirk. "Now y're gettin' it. Not so scary, now is it." "So, you or any other of those kind of guys won't touch me unless I'm gay too, which I am not for tha' record." "The polite ones, yeah. There're some nasties out there, but y'just keep y'head on yer shoulders an' you'll do just fine." He nodded and started to appear less like a tomato. "Guess then that's okay. But one more question. How did you know when you were, ya know...?" The Sniper shrugged, turning back to his coffee. "Started fantasizin' about blokes instead'a shelias." "Ok, so as long as I don't go gaga over the Doc then I ain't considered gay, right?" "Well... I guess if y'wanna think of it that way, yeah." The Pyro muffled out a few choice words, tapping his cleaning on a napkin, to which the marksman nodded. "Aye, guess could be bi too. Never know 'til y'try, far as I'm concerned." "Bi, what the hell is that? Wait, I probably don't wanna know," he said getting ready to put his water glass in the kitchen sink. "Goin' either way. Met a few back home like that." "Either way? I thought you could only, you know. Bat for one team or the otha," he replied. The Sniper chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. "Nah, y'can bat f'r as many teams as y'like. Just what y'find attractive." He paused, thinking, then frowned. "Just watch it with the critters. That gets nasty quick." Scout got a disgusted look on his face when the gunman mentioned the word 'critters' and shook his head. "Not that desperate yet." A stiff nod, the marksman turning his attention fully back to his coffee. "Good on ya." Figuring the conversation was over, the Scout headed outside for his morning run.
Part 3 --- Unaware of commotion he'd caused, the Medic yawned as he rolled over onto his back, starting to come out of his doze. He felt much better with the extra sleep, and the aspirin had certainly helped. There was a knock at the other side of the Infirmary door. A snort, and the doctor sat up. "Ja...?" A voice called out, "Allo? Monsieur? Can I ave a word wiz you?" "Herr Spy...?" A yawn, and the Medic nodded to himself, tossing aside his pillow and crawling up out of bed. "Ah... Eins minute, I vill be right vizh you." Quickly grabbing a clean shirt and a hair tie, the doctor straightened himself out enough to be somewhat presentable, pulling on his gloves at the last second before opening the door. "Guten tag, Herr Spy. Are you in need of assistance?" "Oui. I was on one of my side missions, and as you can see, I 'ad to take a bullet," the Frenchman chuckled before gesturing to his wounded arm. A hiss of sympathy, and the Spy was quickly ushered to a gurney. The Medic was equally quick about getting the supplies he needed, and immediately went to work removing the bullet lodged in his teammate's arm. "I zhought I told you to stop vizh zhe side projects, Herr Spy!" The Spy chuckled as he watched the Medic dislodge the bullet. He winced before pulling out a flask with his good arm and taking a drink from it to numb the pain. "Zhe money ez too attractive at zhe moment." Frowning at the flask, the doctor shook his head. "Money von't keep you from dying, Herr... Und don't you dare tell me zhe Respawn vill be zhere to catch you, you know as vell as I do zhat zhing ist unreliable at best." He carefully cleaned the hole, squinting to make sure the bullet hadn't splintered before moving to start stitching the injury closed. The Spy hissed and answered. "Oui, oui, I am glad zhat someone will notice when I disappear," he chuckled before yelping at the pain. The doctor's frown deepened. "I alvays notice..." And he always worried. The team was all he had... He chuckled again and brushed the one of the Medic's stray hairs to the side. "You need to take some time off yourself, non? Don't you 'ave someone to go home to?" Not expecting the gentle motion, the Medic jerked back, accidentally tugging on the Spy's stitches. He quickly went to fix the damage, loosening the thread and delicately re-cleaning the injury. "Es tute mir lied... Ah, nein, I do nicht. Zhere ist no one vaiting for me." After the Medic fixed his stitches, he gave the man a smile. "You are a kind person, doctor. One day, ozzers weel see it," he said before standing up. In the middle of cleaning up, the comment caught the doctor off guard, and he stared a moment before shaking his head with a soft chuckle. "Dankeschon, mein freund... I appreciate zhe support." Tossing out the soiled gauze pieces and stepping over to the sink to clean his tools, he spoke over his shoulder. "Ist zhere anyzhing else you need me to address? Has zhat knife vound been healing vell?" He touched the healing scar across his ribs. "Oui, your 'ealing touch deed it." The Medic chuckled. "Sehr gute. Und I just stitched it up like any ozzer doctor, nozhing special about it." The Spy nodded before heading to the door. "By zhe way, I have 'eard you caused quite zhe commotion wiz our Scout." "Was...?" He turned, giving the Frenchman a bewildered look. "I zhink zhe boy ez being in strong denial about his physical attraction to you," he chuckled. The doctor's eyes went wide. "W-Was?!" "I wouldn't take eet too seriously. You know boys at zhat age just 'ave zhe occasional crush," he teased. "But- Vhy me?!" Not only was he a good deal older than the young runner, but he was pretty damn sure the Scout was /male/. Why in the world would he be interested in a scarred old doctor? "I do not know. All I know is he was babbling to our Sniper about how he zhought he was gay for a moment because 'e found you attractive zhis morning." The Medic felt his face burn, and quickly turned away before he could turn red. "Vhy in zhe vorld...?" "Zhis ez Scout. Who knows 'ow hez mind operates," he answered. "Ja..." The doctor forced a short laugh, trying to brush off the situation. "To be young again, eh?" "Oui," he answered before laughing as well. "I just wanted to inform you of zhe latest gossip." "Dankeschon, Herr Spy. Zhe sentiment is appreciated, I assure you." Turning back to the sink, the Medic finished sanitizing his tools and set about putting them all away. "Come back if zhose stitches start to hurt, I don't vant you getting drunk. Ve have zhe Demoman for zhat." "Unlike someone else in zhis room, I can hold my alcohol fine," he teased before walking out of the room. The Medic made to give an indignant reply, but the Spy was gone before he could think of a proper rebuttal, and so wound up exhaling an irritated sigh and tending to his tools once more. "How vas I supposed to know zhat schtupid vodka vas so strong..."
Part 4 --- As the Medic was conversing with the Spy, Scout started his daily run, trying his hardest not to think on his embarrassing conversation earlier that morning. Seated on the porch cleaning his rocket launcher, the Soldier looked up from his chore as the young runner jetted past. Huh, kid must have something on his mind... A moment to finish a last bit of polish, and the infantryman sat back, waiting for the boy to come around again before joining in the run. "Something on your mind, Private?" "Hey!" He shouted in between pants as he slowed down his pace so he could talk to the Soldier. "What makes ya think that?" "Usually taunt me at least once before running off." Not being as winded and having slightly longer legs due to his height, the infantryman kept pace easily. He was pretty laid back for one of his class, but he still had his moments when he got riled enough. "What's going on?" "No big deal. Just some sort of talk I had with Sniper this morning. I overreacted," he simply said as he made sure the Soldier was not too far behind. The Soldier snorted, amused. "Over react, you? No... What about?" He was honestly curious, wondering what the boy and the marksman could have conversed about to have the kid so wired. He skidded to a halt after a couple of laps so he could properly explain. "I was kinda attracted to the Medic this morning." The infantryman halted in a much more sedate manner, slowing his pace before stopping in his tracks, panting a little. He smirked at the Scout's admittance, giving a soft chuckle. "That so... Let me guess, Sniper went off on his 'you are who you are' tangent." "Yeah, and somewhere along the line I learned that my brothas were lying about gay people too," he said with a scratch on the back of his head. Another chuckle, this one even more amused. "Really? Was it the pink Barbie version or the house mother?" "The leg shaving super flaming pansy kind." A short pause, and the Soldier snorted, grinning as he suppressed the worst of the laughter that wanted to come out. "Can't say I've ever heard that one, private, though it doesn't surprise me." Shaking his head, the infantryman started back towards his weapons, picking up his cleaning supplied. "So, what about Doc's got you all flustered?" "I dunno if it was the hangover or whatever, but when I knocked on his door to apologize or whatever I saw him with his hair down and... It came up." The Soldier snorted again, hefting his launcher over his shoulder. "Been that long, huh?" It was no secret that the Scout was heavily wary of 'gay-dom', so the comment was more of a teasing jab than anything untoward. After all, there were only guys on base, even though the Demoman had yet to succumb to the knowledge that the Pyro had a dick under that flame-retardant suit. "Well, I mean that was, ya know, the first time it happened in front of him," he said. "It's just been acting weird and this morning just took the straw." A moment's pause, the infantryman frowning slightly at the young runner's phrasing. Acting 'weird'...? "Wait. His hair was down?" "Well yeah, he just woke up or something," he said before nodding. The Soldier gave an affirmative grunt. "That'd do it. I keep telling that pansy to trim it so he doesn't look like a girl, but he won't let me near the scissors." "So it ain't just my dick being gay?" Another amused snort, the Soldier shaking his head. "Negative, private. It's not your fault the good doctor comes across effeminate at the worst times." He sighed in what seemed like relief. "Good, cause I don't wanna think about anything but chicks." "Good luck with that, private." The infantryman chuckled, starting back inside. He sighed and followed him back inside as well. Now that he knew that it was just a fluke he could go about his day as normal. The Scout took a swerve into the shower room and started to undress. Unbeknownst to the young runner, the Medic was of the same mind. He had been meaning to go to the dining room and see if anyone had made breakfast yet, but in treating the Spy, he'd gotten some blood down his front and he figured if he was going to get a clean shirt he might as well clean everything else as well. He was already under the stinging hot spray by the time Scout came wandering in, scrubbing shampoo into his hair. The Scout being, well, Scout, he was oblivious to the Medic being there until he was already undressed and in the shower beside him. Whistling like it was none of his business, he turned to reach for the soap before getting a good look at the Medic. His face turned red as he felt himself getting an erection. It was the whistling that caught his attention, the water rushing over his head muting the other sounds made by the younger man's presence. He paused in the midst of rinsing the shampoo from his hair, brow quirking curiously at hearing the whistling cut off. A moment to wipe water from his face, and the Medic managed to focus somewhat on the skinny figure beside him. Too thin to be most of the team, too short to be the Sniper, so... "Scout?" He yipped and backed off for a moment before trying to exhale and calm down. "Sorry. Didn't realize you were there." Oh good, he got it right. The doctor shook his head, smiling a little as he handed over the soap the boy had undoubtedly been reaching for. "It ist alright. I try to be unobtrusive mehr often zhen nicht." He was oblivious to the runner's physical state, being so near-sighted he was all but blind without his glasses on, unless whatever he was focusing on was less than a foot or so in front of his face. He cleared his throat and took the soap from the other's hands. If he did not draw attention to his erection, then maybe the doctor would not notice. "Thanks, Doc." "Bitte schon. Ah... You are velcome." Shaking his head at his own lingual slip up, the Medic returned to his own cleaning, bending his head forward to rinse out the remaining suds. He was not quite so imposing without his uniform on, more straight up and down than broad shouldered like most of his class, but no less well-muscled. His legs and arms were especially well toned, as was expected from lugging around heavy equipment on the battlefield. But overall, the doctor's frame seemed more androgynous than anything else, not broad enough to be masculine but not curvy enough to be feminine. If not for the bits between his legs, he could well have been anything. The Scout couldn't help but stare at the Medic while he was at the shower for a few seconds before he realized what he was doing and concentrated on washing himself. Feeling the young runner's eyes on him, the doctor shifted his weight in a nervous manner, shifting his stance to slightly turn away from the Scout. The motion was slight enough to go unnoticed, but the scars it revealed were not, nasty jagged ridges of deadened tissue that ran the length of his spine as if some giant animal had raked its claws down his back. Scout widened his eyes as he noticed the scars. "Whoa! Where did you get those? A nasty fight?" The Medic stiffened, shoulders jerking up before he forced them back down. "Ah... Nein..." He straightened, keeping his expression carefully neutral as he pushed a few locks of wet hair from his face. "Zhey are vhipping scars..." He still looked shell shocked. "What the hell?! What did you do? I didn't think you were the kind of guy to deserve somethin' like that." A soft, mirthless chuckle. "I vould say I did nozhing, but zhat vould not appease zhe officer who beat me." "God, he must 'ave been a real jackass," he said with an exasperated huff. "You had to be really tough to deal with that." "Vell, vhen it ist deal or die..." The doctor shrugged, trying to shake off his nerves. He didn't like talking about his past, especially when it was such a painful part of his life. "He vas deluded, zhat ist to be certain, but it vas also zhe trend of zhe times to treat zhose perceived to be deviant as... Inhuman." He would have said slave, but the term simply didn't fit the torture he had endured. Not to mention the fact he hadn't actually been a part of anything productive. Being strapped down to a surgical table pumped full of drugs and chemically altered hormones didn't really lend one to being very useful as a workforce. He clicked his tongue and took a closer look before giving him a quick bro-hug. "Sorry, man." The hug took the Medic off guard, and he stiffened at first before realizing what the Scout was doing, at which point he gave a soft laugh and let himself relax a bit. "It ist alright, mein freund. It vas nicht dein fault..." He trailed off, a brow quirking curiously before turning to the young runner with a thin smile. "Do showers excite you, Herr Scout?" He yipped a second time as he let go. "Sorry, man. I kinda can't help it. I think it's when your hair is down." That caused the doctor to pause, and he gave a soft snort of amusement. He straightened, tossing his head as he cocked his narrow hips in a very feminine manner, arms folding across his torso as he smiled at the Scout. "Ist zhat so...?" "Yeah! It's like you're tryin' to screw around with my head!" The Medic broke out laughing, straightening his posture to his more normal stance. "I vas teasing! Gute Gott, you are sehr predictable..." Still chuckling a bit, the doctor finished rinsing off and turned off the shower, shaking water from his hair before stepping towards the wall where the towels hung. "You're young, it ist nicht somezhing to vorry about." "What is that supposed to mean? Is there some sort of medical thing I don't know about?" The doctor gave a soft chuckle, wrapping a towel around his waist and not particularly caring that his hair was dripping in his face. "Nein, was I mean zhat you are ein young man at zhe peak of dein physical form. Zhese zhings happen, und zhey are nozhing to be ashamed of." "So, then there really isn't anythin' to worry about? ...A-And you ain't insulted or disgusted or anything?" A soft snort. "Vhy vould I be?" The Medic smiled, clearly amused as he stepped past the young runner towards the lockers. "You are half mein age, junge, I take it as a compliment." His face was getting more red by the minute. "Uh... Thanks I guess," he said while getting a towel of his own. Still chuckling a bit, the doctor calmly went about drying and dressing himself, taking care to properly dry his scars before pulling on his shirt. No need to ruin a perfectly nice button down... "So...uh...I guess then I'll see ya around," the Scout said, feeling rather relieved about the situation. "I should zhink so. Ve live in zhe same space, do ve nicht?" The Medic was actually rather surprised by his own calm, and couldn't help but wonder if he would be of the same mind with anyone else on the team. Maybe Heavy... No, no, definitely not. The idea alone had his face coloring, and he was glad he had his back to the young runner as he brushed his hair. Maybe it was because the boy was so young... Not wanting to make the moment any more awkward, the Scout left the shower to go about his daily routine. Heavy arrived several minutes later, whistling as he walked in. The doctor was just finishing up when the big Russian came in, and he greeted the man warmly. "Ah, guten tag, mein freund. You are vell, I trust?" "Da, though I think I should learn to lift heavier weight. For better performance on field," the sweaty Russian said before letting out a laugh. A soft chuckle. "Herr, if you get any stronger your arms vill be bigger around zhen mein whole body." "Considering you are so small, I do not think will be too large." The Medic rolled his eyes, nudging the larger man in the side as he passed by towards the door. "You can already lift bozh Herr Soldat und zhe Demoman over dein head at zhe same time, I zhink zhat ist mehr zhan enough." Heavy rolled his eyes right back and chuckled before getting in the shower.
Part 5 --- The Sniper chatted with Pyro for a while after Scout left, but the kitchen lights finally drove him out when his headache got too much for him. He wandered the halls for a bit, finishing his coffee under the dimmer lighting, when he saw Solly go by. Smirking to himself, the marksman drained the last gulp from his mug and followed, careful to walk only on the pads of his feet so his boot heels wouldn't click on the concrete floor. It was a fun little game he liked to play with the infantryman, and he'd gotten very good at it. When he managed to follow the Soldier all the way to the man's room without him noticing, he ticked off a mental tally in his favor. Waiting patiently for the infantryman to get settled, he lounged comfortably in the doorway before finally knocking. "Mind if I come in?" The Soldier looked up with a grin, already sitting on the bed with his clothing loose. He had anticipated the Sniper's movement since the hallway. "Sure." The sharpshooter couldn't help but grin, idly kicking the door closed behind him as he strode in. There was a chair, but he didn't even bother, plopping himself down in the other man's lap and lifting the edge of that ever present helmet to plant a quick kiss to the Soldier's temple. "So. 'M guessin' y'got hold'a the squirt?" He nodded. "I did. Funny kid, that one. I figure once he gets a little older he'll get more sure of himself over time." "Got his heart in the right place, that's f'certain. Just gotta get his head in the game, an' he'll be golden." The marksman chuckled, long limbs lying about as he all but lounged in the Soldier's lap. "You got over that hangover yet?" the Soldier asked with a small smile before kissing his cheek. Grumbling a bit under his breath, the gunman shifted his hand in a so-so gesture. "Head still 'urts, but 'm not pukin' up booze like I was last night." "You, sir, need to know your limit," he said with a shake of his head. "Yeah, yeah... Can't count cans too well when y're seein' double, though." The Sniper smirked, flicking the edge of the Soldier's helmet. "Not like y're any better, Mr. 'Just Fertilizin' The Desert'. Least I made it inside." He coughed before putting his helmet over his eyes. "Yeah, yeah..." Chuckling a bit, the marksman leaned back, letting his hands dangle in his lap. "Gotta say, though, did pretty good f'tryin'a out drink Demo." "I am learning it is a harder feat than one would think," he answered before wrapping his arms around the Sniper in a hug. The marksman just laughed, quite content to let himself be hugged, leaning against the infantryman's broad chest and not particularly caring that doing so knocked both his aviators and hat askew. A moment's pause, and the Sniper eventually spoke up again, a hand squirming up through the Soldier's embrace to remove his glasses before they could fall. "Y'think the Medic's a'right? Didn' look so good last night, an' the kid said he wasn' feelin' too great." "Apparently, he just doesn't drink that often," He answered with a smile. "All he needs is some rest, and he has the Heavy wrapped around his finger. I'm sure he will be fine." "True, but..." The sharpshooter sighed, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. "I think 'e was cryin'..." "Crying? Why would he be crying? I wouldn't peg him for a weepy drunk." The Sniper shrugged. "Dunno. Can't be sure I even saw it, t'be honest. Had more'n a few beers in me by the time Heavy walked off with 'im." "Look, if it was really bad, I'm sure he would have at least told someone. The Doc's too much of an optimist to be that depressed. You might have just been drinking too much." A soft snicker. "Like you weren't?" The marksman shifted his weight, leaning a bit more heavily against the infantryman. "I dunno, love. I mean, it's not like anybody really knows 'im, 'cept maybe Heavy, but still-!" He shook his head, frowning as he snuggled with the Soldier. "I dunno... Maybe 'm just paranoid. Bloody Spy's been badgerin' me most the week." "What does that fruitcake have to do with anything? Is he bothering you?" the Soldier asked with a furrowed brow. "Not our Spy, the other one. Back-stabbin' weasel..." He paused a moment, thinking, then leaned back to give his companion a questioning look. "Ave y'seen our Spy about? I don' think 'e was at the party last night, Engie didn't get out that fancy-pants wine." "Something about a side mission, I think," the Soldier answered. "You know him. Always has to be prying." "Good point. Spook's always got his nose in somethin'." The Sniper paused a moment, then started to chuckle, grinning. "Maybe that's why it's so bloody huge, ey?" He chuckled and gave the Sniper another squeeze. "Maybe." Still chuckling, the marksman shifted to get an arm around the Soldier's chest in a small return hug, being unable to properly position himself to give the broader man the same warm squeeze. "Like Pinocchio, yeah? More 'e snoops, bigger it gets." "I thought that applied to lying, though in this case you might be onto something." The Soldier teased before planting a kiss on the other man's neck. "Yeah, but that's the puppet's schtick..." Tilting his head, the sharpshooter gave an appreciative murmur at the gentle contact, moving to return the gesture, not caring when his hat toppled off onto the infantryman's desk. He looked to his watch and said, "I think we have enough time for a quickie or two if you really want." The Soldier was never really a subtle man when it came to sex. Rather than reply, the Sniper sat up and caught the other man in a firm kiss. He'd never been one for subtlety either.
Part 6 --- With everyone nursing hangovers and most not even bothering to get out of bed due to the weekend ceasefire, it had been a surprisingly short and uneventful day for pretty much everyone, and the Medic was quite pleased to find himself able to retreat to his Infirmary without any accidentally injured teammates to tend to. He did a cursory bit of cleaning, just for habit's sake, then dug out his well-worn copy of the Sherlock Holmes mysteries, settling into bed with the green hardback. Only a few chapters into The Hound of Baskervilles, and the doctor was fast asleep, the book splayed out across his chest. The Scout, having witnessed another day pass him by, started to take off his shoes before getting some sleep. The moment the Scout drifted off into dreamland, he realized he was back in the showers with the doctor. Only this time the scenario played out a bit differently... The doctor gave a soft chuckle, turning from the towel rack to give the boy a thin smile, not caring that his hair was dripping in his face. "Nein, was I mean zhat you are ein young man at zhe peak of dein physical form. Zhese zhings happen, und zhey are nozhing to be ashamed of." The Scout just stood there, dazed and not sure what to do, as the doctor turned to walk toward him. His boner was getting more noticeable, and he was starting to get more self conscious. The Medic gently lay a hand on the younger man's arm, eyes half-lidded as the opposite hand drifted down to the runner's narrow hips. "It ist alright, junge, zhis is natural for one dein age. Physical attraction to anozzer ist nicht wrong..." He still felt stiff, while his breath hitched at the touch on his hip. A small whine escaped his throat before the two of them leaned in for a kiss. Being the elder and obviously more experienced, the doctor quite easily took command of the situation, but was surprisingly gentle, even as he backed the Scout into the wall of the showers. He pulled back after a moment, smirking with oddly full lips as he looked slightly up at the young runner. "How ist zhat for a first kiss, hm?" He nodded as to say he was approving of what was happening right now. The Scout's normally loud mouth decided to occupy itself on the Medic's skin. The nape of his neck, the middle of his chest... Which abruptly seemed to swell outwards, not by much, but enough to be noticeable. The doctor voiced a soft moan, leaning back slightly to allow the young man better access, soft blonde hair sticking to his shoulders like yellow seaweed. "Mmm, you are nicht quite sehr inexperienced as I zhought..." Slim, scarred hands smoothed over the Scout's body, feeling out the firm pectorals and abdominal muscles with palms that seemed to fade from callused to silken softness as the motions continued. Gee-zus, the Medic was turning into a woman right before his very eyes. But the Scout, like most young men his age, was not picky and continued his little exploration of the Medic's body. After a few more minutes of kissing and heavy petting, the Scout started to wake up from his lust filled daze and backed up. "Wait... You're a chick?" A soft chuckle, the doctor's voice no different than before as he (she?) looked up at the young runner through thick long lashes. "Vhat about it? Vould you razzer lose dein virginity to a man?" Oddly enough, the Medic actually didn't look all too different as a woman, still slim and strong, just a bit curvier and plumper in the right spots. And good Lord, those legs went on forever! He just laughed in a nervous manner, before giving her another kiss. "No it's just... you're so pretty... and..." He stopped talking when she resumed touching him. Gently shushing the blushing Scout, the lady Medic let one hand trail down the young man's stomach while the other lifted, stroking a few damp locks of hair from his face. "I am flattered, junge. A young man such as deinself interested in an elder like me? It ist ein compliment, und I vish to return zhe favor." She smiled, soft and warm, and leaned in for another kiss, her small firm breasts pressing against his chest... The Scout awoke with a start in a cold sweat. He blinked before looking at his wind up alarm clock. 2:00 AM. Then he looked at his sheets. Scout fought the urge to scream from frustration. -- In the far end of the base, alone in his Infirmary, the Medic was having issues with his own dreams. Having tossed and turned for quite some time, he now lay flat on his back, the book he had been reading caught under him and not allowing him to move from his prone position. The inability to shift his body roused a few of the doctor's more terrible demons from his memory, and he whimpered as his slumbering mind fell into the nightmare. Strapped down to a cold metal table, shaved and naked and utterly terrified. The ominous shadow of a surgeon loomed over the reluctant patient, a syringe in his hand. Dark laughter came from the shadow before a strange voice echoed from the walls. "Hold still, this won't hurt a bit." The laughter increased as well as the screams from other tables not visible in the spotlighted gloom. He -no- She squirmed, breathe hitching in a frightened sob as she tried to pull away from the man looming over her, clad all in white and his face hidden behind a surgical mask and protective goggles. "Please, please, w-why are you d-doing this? I didn't do anything!" "Do not fret. This will cure your affliction," the man answered before he started to inject her exposed clitoris. Before she had a chance to ask for an explanation, she felt the sharp metal pierce her most sensitive parts, and froze up completely, every muscle in her lithe frame taut as piano wire. The pain was incredible, so much so she could not even scream as she felt the foreign concoction being forced into her vulnerable body. The painful surgery continued for an indeterminate amount of time for the patients, with the screaming and laughter being the only noise in the room. Eventually her genitals were molded and shaped into a crude version of a penis. Even with numbing agents and pain killers applied at varying intervals, the agony of having her internal construction altered so drastically still managed to reach her through the drugged haze, and she finally found the voice to scream when her pelvis was shattered. She cried and begged and wailed until her voice gave out, leaving her to sob brokenly as her uterus and breasts were removed. A soldier walked through the surgical ward as the process was going on. A thin smile spread on his lips as the man said, "At least now you will have grounds to reject other men." What did-? Then she recognized him, and she remembered. The man from the bar, the one who had pestered her and Genni, the one she had rejected in favor of her childhood friend for the sake of familiarity. She could only stare, unable to speak, as the soldier, an Oberstleutnant she now noticed, strode up to and out a rectangle of light that was cut off with a SLAM. --- The roaring thunder woke the Heavy in a sweat. Once he was able to get himself oriented, he thought he heard whimpering coming from the Infirmary next to him. The Medic was still caught up in the nightmare by the time the big Russian arrived, splayed out immobile on his back, twitching and clutching at the sheets as if bound, his internal agony worn plain on his pale face. He ran over to the writhing doctor, and started to shake him awake. "Doktor! Please vake up! You are having bad dream!" It didn't take much to rouse the doctor, medical instinct and terror leading him to come awake at the first touch of the Heavy's broad hand. He lurched up with a sharp cry, finding and grabbing on tight to the Russian's hand and shirt, eyes wide and unseeing behind his cock-eyed glasses. For a moment, he didn't seem to be all there, staring into the middle distance at the center of his teammate's chest. Then he seemed to crumple in on himself, slumping forward to lean against his friend before he simply broke down, body trembling as he sobbed into the Heavy's shirt. The large Russian widened his eyes at the sudden grasp, but let the Medic cry into his shirt to provide the sobbing man the comfort that he needed. He lightly rocked him back and forth. The gentle motions caught him off guard at first, his breath hitching as his grip tightened, but then he realized what was going on and let himself be rocked like a small child in their mother's arms. It was a long time before he managed to get ahold of himself, the raw fear and agony of the remembered and subconscious warped experience coming out in the tears and near-silent sobs. After some minutes, the worst of the crying faded, leaving the doctor feeling drained and hollow as he slumped against his friend. "Es tute mier leid, mein freund, Ich- I- I am sorry." He spoke the words with care, body remembering the pain of a broken jaw being forced to heal into a new shape, and sat up with equal hesitance, phantom pains causing him to move with caution. The Heavy smiled at a slight to help the Medic become more at ease. "You do not need apologize..." He continued to rock the man as if he were a child. The doctor winced at the touch, old scars long since healed flaring with the ghostly recollection of the burning agony of their initial creation. "N-Nein, I must, I should- I should nicht have voke you, it ist mein burden to bear-" He broke off with a startled yelp as thunder boomed outside, lurching forward to grab onto the big Russian, eyes wide behind his glasses. "Do not talk that way. Doktor is friend. So I will bear burden with you," he said simply before petting his back. "It must be storm giving you nightmares, da?" Barely managing a small nod, the Medic cringed at a second crack of thunder, hiding his face against the Heavy's chest. Under more normal circumstances, he would have been able to deal with the loud noise that shook the room and made his insides squirm, but so shortly after reliving the trauma of his youth... It was a wonder he didn't start crying all over again. The Heavy continued to hold him. "Let me sing you lullaby at least. It help me sleep after bad nightmare," he said before clearing his throat and singing in his native tongue. Though he couldn't understand the words, the tone in which they were sung was quite soothing, the big Russian's gruff baritone softening to rumble deep in the man's barrel chest. He managed to take a breath without it catching in his throat, and though the storm raged on, the crashing and rumbling didn't spook him so much anymore. Still clinging tightly to the Heavy's shirt, the doctor slowly began to relax, his breath steadying as the phantom pain faded. "My mother sang to me when I was frightened. Good song," he said as he continued to rock the gradually relaxing man. "Es shame I don't like women, might actually be good father," he joked. A slow nod. "Zhere ist alvays adoption..." He nodded and patted the Medic on the back. "Do you feel a leetle better now?" Another nod, this one followed by the doctor tightening his grip on his teammate's shirt. "...Bitte, do nicht go..." He hated to admit it, but at the moment, he was really quite terrified of falling asleep again, knowing the nightmare would creep up on him again. The large Russian just smiled and wrapped his arm around the Medic. "Do not be frightened. I am here for tonight." "Dankeschon, mein freund, dankeschon..."
Part 7 --- No one seemed to have slept well as a result of the night's storm. Even the Scout was unusually silent during breakfast. The Medic was also rather quiet, his motions careful and slow as he went about making himself some tea, knowing that coffee would only make him more tense from the caffeine content. Even with the Heavy by his side through the last few hours of the night, the nightmare had left its mark and he had been unable to manage more than a fitful doze until the alarm sounded. He knew that the aches he was feeling were nothing more than figments of his imagination, but it was hard to dismiss them when his body protested the slightest movement. Upon seeing the Medic, the Scout subconsciously started to tense up while he was playing with his food. Heavy noticed the trend and wondered if the Scout had had a hard night as well. The doctor didn't seem to notice the young runner's unease, seating himself beside the Heavy as if feeling every one of his 40-odd years and then some. Pyro did though, and gently nudged his friend, voicing a questioning mumble. The Scout just blinked before putting his fork down. "Uh...yeah. I'm fine. Just not hungry I guess." He turned to the Heavy. "Big guy, want some extra breakfast?" The Heavy nodded and started to pile it on his plate. Normally, the Medic would have made a comment concerning the fact that the runner would need his strength for the battlefield, but right now, he was too tired and sore to bother, frowning slightly as he stared into his as yet untouched tea. It didn't take a scientist to predict that their team would fail miserably in the upcoming match, and fail they did. Several times over, actually, much to the chagrin of the Announcer. "You FAILED!" "Oh, SHADDUP!!" The Sniper threw a spare shell casing at the speaker, grumbled crossly under his breath as he returned to cleaning his rifle, which had jammed during the battle and forced the marksman to fall back on the bow the company had given him. Shaking his head at his teammate's outburst, the Medic returned his attention to undoing the quick bandage he had applied to the man's arm out on the field after he was grazed by a chunk of bomb shrapnel. It was a relatively clean cut, but it still needed to be sanitized and stitched up. The Scout was not at the top of his game at all during the match, and whenever he needed to be healed, he always headed toward the Dispensers or just died. If he noticed the young runner's avoidance, the doctor gave no sign. His overly-careful motions had loosened up some, but he was still not up to his normal speed. He could only hope a full night's sleep (with the aid of some sleeping pills) would be able to straighten things out. But that was for later. Right now, he had patients to tend to and dinner to cook. Heavy did his best to assist the doctor with the cooking as well as anything else the Medic needed. The Scout did what he could to keep himself occupied, hanging around the Engineer's workshop (much to the annoyance of the helmeted man). The doctor was more than happy for his teammate's help, seeing as the Russian could reach the things he couldn't himself and the big man was a fantastic taste tester. A skill that came in extremely handy, since the battered old cookbook he was using was hard to read at best and he had to improvise with the supplies on hand. Thank goodness for the Sniper being able to drive into town every once in a while, else there wouldn't have been near enough spices for the Mexican dish the doctor had decided to try. "Heavy, ist zhis too spicy?" He grabbed a small spoon to sample the meal before shaking his head. "Nyet, but ez not good idea to add much more," he answered before the Engineer walked in the kitchen. "Thank God, 'e isn't here. I swear, that kid drives me up a wall like a cat up a tree, " he muttered before heading to the sink to wash his hands. It took a moment for the doctor to catch on, at which point he gave the Texan a curious look. "Ist Herr Scout bozhering you? I zhought ve got him over zhat..." "I don't know what the hell's wrong with him, but that boy ain't right," he answered as the water ran over his grease covered hands. "Touchin' everything like it was his playground. Don't mind him helpin' once in a while, but I can't stand him for more than two hours at a time." The Medic rolled his eyes, turning back to the sauce about to be mixed into a pan of ground beef for the enchiladas. "I know vhat you mean. I find it easiest to distract him vith ein menial task und vork around him. Besser zhan having mein ear chattered off..." Not that he really had to do that much anymore, the boy had matured quite a bit in the few years he'd been on the team. "True..." he muttered. When the smell of the meat was being cooked reached down the hall, the Scout walked in the door, hungry as ever. "Take ein seat, bitte. It vill be anozzer fifteen minutes." The doctor didn't even look up, busy keeping an eye on the beef on the stove and the tortillas in the oven. He'd learned the hard way that the heating elements on the old contraption were not the best and were prone to spurts of high and low heat. Of course the grease was flying as a result, and the Scout forgot his troubles for a moment to walk over there and say, "You might want to drain the grease once in a while. With the heat going high that quick, you might get burned." As the issue was mentioned, some of the spitting grease jumped up and the Medic narrowly avoided getting a nasty burn on his face, grabbing a hot pad to block the spray just in time. "Ah, gute idea, Scout. Vhy did I nicht zhink of zhat..." Pan at arm's length, the doctor carefully made his way over to the sink, using a spatula to keep the meat in the pan while some of the grease was drained. He ignored the light pink on his face and said, "Not a problem. 'S what I know after having to cook for brothas and sistas." Chuckling lightly, the Medic carefully cleaned up the dripping grease before replacing the pan on the stove, stepping back at the expected jet of flame as the remaining streaks of oil were ignited by the burner. "Of course, zhat ist to be expected vith such ein large family. It vas, ah, eight siblings, ja?" "Actually nine now," he answered, "Ma took in another one, least that's what she said in her last later. So 8 siblings and a step sister. Don't know who she married, but she's movin' outta the slums now." The doctor couldn't help but smile, even as he bent to check on the tortillas. "Zhat ist sehr gute, mein Kamerad! I take it zhat zhe pay ist helping as vell...?" He wasn't certain, but he had a suspicion that the vast majority of the salary garnered by the runner's contributions on the field went straight home. The Scout just seemed so close with his family, it was hard to imagine otherwise. "Yeah. She says he's helping with things, but I dunno if she's exaggerating just to get me to relax a bit, but either way she sounds happier," he answered before taking the time to shred some cheese. Though he hadn't asked, the Medic was quite pleased with the youth's help, having forgotten entirely about the 'all important' cheese. "Zhat ist vonderful. I am glad." It was always nice to hear that someone was doing well, whether here at base or out in the world. Funny, it had been so long since he'd last been outside the safety of the Respawn boundary... Shaking his head, the doctor bent to retrieve the warm and now-pliable tortillas from the oven. He was going by the book as best as he could for this one, he didn't want the Easter fiasco repeating. Scout smiled and continued to work with the cheese. Heavy, at the meantime, decided to set the table while the Engineer took it upon himself to get the rest of the team. Putting the dishes together was... Interesting, to say the least. The tortillas were very fragile and didn't like being handled very much, and after the third enchilada simply fell open, the doctor decided enough was enough. "Ach, it vould be easier to have everyone make zheir own..." The Scout just laughed and said, "They're not too bad, when you know how to handle them," he said. Then he started to wrap the tortillas with little difficulty. A moment's startled pause, and the doctor laughed as well, stepping back to let the runner have free reign. "Ah, zhe professional takes charge! You have very nimble fingers, Herr Scout. No vonder ve had such ein vinning streak, ja?" Still chuckling a bit to himself, the Medic turned to cleaning up what he could. "It's no big deal," he answered before saying, "There was a Mexican family who lived next door. When I was babysat, they'd make this stuff." "Really? But, I zhought you lived in Boston." The moment the words left his mouth, the doctor realized his err and quite desperately wished one could take back words. "Zhat vas nicht vhat I vanted to say..." "Well, there are good part's of Boston, and not-so-good parts of Boston. We just lived in the not-so-good parts," he answered with a chuckle. "Don't worry bout it, man." Giving a soft sigh of relief, the Medic gave the younger man a small smile as he cleaned out one of the mixing bowls he'd used to make up the sauce base. "Zhat ist gute... Ah, vill you be needing zhat ladle zhere?" He nodded, "Just leave it here," he said before reaching over the Medic to grab a 'serving dish'. Of course, he overestimated his reaching skills and nearly fell on top of the Medic. The doctor was not the fastest runner, but he had remarkably good reflexes, and managed to catch both his teammate and the falling dish before harm could come to either. He chuckled softly, gently righting the Scout. "You know, you could ask if you need somezhing." His face got more red as he felt the Medic adjust him. The way he held him for that moment, was just like in that dream. "Excuse me..." he put down the dish and nearly sprinted out. The Medic could only watch, startled and more than a little confused as the young runner disappeared. "Vas it somezhing I said?" The Soldier, who had been watching for a little while, just shook his head. "No, more like something he needed to take care of last minute." Before the doctor could inquire further, the Pyro rose from his seat, giving a muffled threat to anyone daring to take his seat before starting off after the Scout. It wasn't hard to figure out where the runner had gone, he only ever ran off to two or three places, all of which the firebug knew by heart. Not in his room, and not on the porch so... The fire-starter heaved himself up into the attic, the small enclosed space caught in a strong draft coming through the open skylight. "Skowt?" He had made his way to the roof only a few seconds ago, trying to find a way to sit down. Maybe the cold air will get the swelling to go down... If not, then he would have to take care of it before dinner. Unaware of his friend's 'predicament', the Pyro carefully made his way out onto the roof after the Bostonian, crouching down on all fours to keep from getting buffeted by the breeze. The pains of wearing bulky equipment as a uniform... He eventually managed to get himself sat down within arm's length, and tapped the young runner's shoulder. "Skowt? Yu kay?" He jumped at the sudden touch before he started to back off and cover his crotch. "I'm fine...J-just go away man." A snort, and the firebug reached over to flick his friend between the eyes. "Dun lye tu me, Skowt. Yu suhk at it." His face was red, and he still had his crotch covered. "...I thought I was over this shit..." "Ohver whut? Ahr yu sihk?" The Pyro cocked his head curiously, not unlike a bewildered dog. "Well, you remember that stuff I was ranting about yesterday morning, right? Well, I thought I was over it, but then I had this weird dream last night..." Seating himself a little more comfortably, the fire-starter gestured for his friend to go on, wanting to get the whole picture. After all, it wasn't like he was going to tell anybody. He explained the encounter at the showers, and how his dreams were derived from that moment. "I swear, it was like he transformed in front of my eyes. He was a she..." The Pyro paused a moment, thinking and attempting to imagine the Scout's description. It was quite a bit easier than he'd figured, and the firebug carefully folded his legs. A low, slightly muffled whistle. "That iz sumthin..." He nodded. "So when I woke up, it just got worse from there. I avoided him all day so I could move on from it... Then the thing with that plate happened, and /it/ got stirred up again. I know it's a phase, but I want this shit to be over with. It ain't natural." A thoughtful hum, and there was sharp squeak as the Pyro snapped his fingers. "Go an bang im!" "The hell? What do you mean bang him? I'm supposed to forget about these urges, not feed em!" "Thaz juzt it! Yu go an get it outta yer syztem, an dun; Nu mehr problem!" "What makes you think he would go for that kind of thing, anyway?" A shrug. "Ah don'. Buht iz worf a shot, yeh?" "I... Might do something about it. Later," he said, feeling thankful the cool air was enough to make him flaccid again. "Whel, eiver whay, iz dinner now, an I kno yer hungry." The firebug chuckled, punching his friend lightly in the arm before he started back towards the skylight. He nodded and followed the firebug back down to the dinner table, where he remained silent for the rest of dinner. No one wanted to comment on what had happened, figuring it would make things worse than better. The Medic desperately wanted to ask what was wrong, his mothering instincts screaming that something was terribly off and wanting to fix them, but he had a feeling that questioning the boy so shortly after the event would only cause further tension, so he kept quite on the matter, picking at his food as he chatted idly with the Sniper. Funny, for a man who grew up in the wilds of Australia, he was rather well read... Before too long, dinner was over, and the dishes were left to the Pyro while the others dispersed. The doctor tried to get the firebug to relinquish washing duty, seeing as it wasn't his turn to do so, but the fire-starter refused, even going so far as to chase the Medic out with a lighter and a can of cooking spray. Carefully patting out the sparks that had caught on his coat, the Medic planted his hands on his hips, utterly confused. "Was in zhe vorld hast gotten into him?!" Scout decided to get up and leave after the Pyro chased the Medic out with the makeshift flamethrower. He trudged along slowly, taking his sweet time to get the plate to the sink. Underneath the heavy gasmask, the resident pyrotechnical expert frowned at his friend's sluggishness. The whole situation with the good doctor was taking more out of the kid that he wanted to admit, and it made his fingers itch for some matches to re-light the young runner's spark. Instead, he took the plate from the Bostonian's hands, setting it into the hot soapy water and shooing the Scout towards the door where the Medic could still just barely be seen heading down the hall towards his Infirmary. Best things get taken care of quickly before they got worse. He objected at the pushing with a "Watch it! Geez!" before taking a few steps toward the Infirmary. From the look of his friend, the Pyro was not messing around. There was no point in turning back now. The Medic was already puttering around inside by the time the runner showed up, sorting through medication bottles and supplies and jotting down what was getting low, what needed replacing. It was a tedious task, but he'd been putting it off for long enough and had nothing better to do for the 2 hours until the nightly curfew. He was halfway through the third cabinet, noting that he was running low on sedative again, when he heard the soft squeak of the door opening. Straightening, he turned, and greeted the Scout with a smile and small wave. "Guten Abend, Herr Scout. Ist zhere anyzhing I can do for you?" He froze like a deer in headlights, not exactly sure how to answer. His mouth was getting dry, and his palms sweaty. Wait...what was he standing around for? This was getting ridiculous. Maybe he just needed to break the ice? "Um...you need any help?" "Nein, nicht really. It ist just inventory, after all. Tedious to be sure, but-" A soft chuckle, and the doctor shook his head, setting his clipboard down. "I can finish it later." He turned, his expression fading from vaguely amused to open concern as he faced his teammate. "Ist zhere somezhing wrong zhat you vant to tell me about? I- I vanted to ask at dinner, but you vere so jumpy, I did nicht vant to make matters vorse." The Scout didn't know what to exactly say without sounding stupid, or disgusting. So he opted for a watered down version of the truth. "Um...I kinda don't wanna tell ya. I mean it kinda has something to do yesterday..." A moment to recall, and the Medic felt his face warm across his cheekbones. "Oh... Ah, es tute mir leid, zhat vas extremely improper of me. I did nicht mean anyzhing by it, I assure you, I-" He broke off into a nervous chuckle, looping few stray curls behind his ears. "Zhat did nicht come out very vell..." "I know you didn't, a-and I don't think it was your fault," the Scout answered before taking a bold step closer. "I mean, after the thing with the shower, I kinda had a dream last night. And from then on, it just got worse. Pyro went after me when I left the kitchen today, and we kinda got to talking." He felt a growing lump in his throat that matched the one in his pants. "He got it in his head that I should ask you to help me get it out of my system..." The doctor smiled at that, unaware of the meaning behind of the boy's request. "I am ein doctor, it ist mein job to do everzhing in my ability to see zhe ones in my care are feeling zheir best." A moment to find and grab a couple chairs, and he made a welcoming gesture to one. "Bitte, take ein seat und I vill see vhat I can do, ja?" He quirked a brow having a feeling that the doctor was way off on this one. "Do you really know what I'm talking bout heah?" he asked crossing his arms while walking over to the chair. "Vell, nein... But zhat ist vhy I am asking." The Medic rifled through his pockets, coming up with a pencil and a small notepad that had both seen better days before seating himself. "It ist better to ask und be made a fool once zhan to continue to be blind und be a fool for zhe rest of dein days." "By 'taking care of it' or 'getting it out of my system' it means sex," he said with an even redder face. "I told him it was a dumb idea..." A moment's pause for the information to sink in, and the fading color across the doctor's cheekbones came back in full force and then some. "Oh. Zhat kind of dream." He nodded. "Fraid so... I mean, if it makes you feel better you were pretty hot in it." That sounded like a compliment. Was that a compliment? "Ah... Danke?" The Medic sat up, clearing his throat as he tucked his writing utensils away and struggled to compose himself before attempting to confront the issue. "Scout, was happened in dein dream? I vill nicht ask for detail, but a besser idea of vhat occurred could help find zhe main catalyst for zhis... Issue." Doctor, patient, doctor, patient, remember those classes that were so dumb before, they're going to come in handy! He nodded and took a deep breath to relax himself. "Well, we were back in the showers. It was kinda like events replaying. Then you were kinda coming on to me. Not that I minded it. We were both sort of in the mood, kissing, touching and all that..." A nod, the frazzled doctor slowly gathering himself and putting on his clinical mask. Leaning back a bit in his chair, he folded his hands over his stomach to hide the fact that his fingers were twitching. "Fairly normal, as far as dreams go." "Then ah...you kinda started looking different. I think it was cause I compared you to a girl that night when we were drinking, but- You didn't look all that much different, just had bigger hips, an', you know... and boobs. It didn't look that weird to me though. I mean dream me, and the real me didn't think much of it. Like you were hot either way." For a split-second, the Medic made no reaction, calm and collected despite his blush, then he abruptly went pale, expression shifting to something not quite but very close to terrified. He couldn't know, no one knew, he'd never told! Had he...? Oh damn, he'd gotten so drunk-! "Excuse me...?" "I mean. I did say that stupid thing and I guess it kinda went into the dream as a result. But still... You were attractive either way," he said, avoiding eye contact and scratching the back of his head. Stay calm, the boy likely didn't know, it was just a dream, there was nothing wrong with a dream- Thank goodness the runner wasn't looking at him, else he'd probably think he'd done something horrible by the way the Medic had gone white as a sheet, very nearly matching his own coat. "Zhat ist, ah, interesting, Herr Scout." How in the world he managed to keep the strain from his voice, he would never know, but he did get around to summoning the will to move, sitting up abruptly and lurching to his feet in a near-robotic manner. "Might you have ein idea as to vhy you had zhis dream in zhe first place?" "I have no freakin' clue, man," he answered. "But I tried to figure out what was causing it earlier. I tried jerkin' off to take care of it myself but it doesn't work. Even the cold air takes a while to get it down." The doctor frowned, the expression twisting sharply on one side into something like a grimace as he tried to think of something, anything he could do to help his teammate and keep that painful secret. "Zhat ist ein problem..." "That's why Pyro said what he said. He figured one round with you in the sack would get everything back to normal." And, quite abruptly, the Medic felt distinctly ill as the bottom fell out of his stomach, making way for the panic that fluttered up into his chest and choked the breath from his lungs. Only grabbing onto the back of the chair kept his knees from giving out underneath him. "I am afraid zhat I can nicht help you vizh zhat." "I know... There might be a chance that it would make things worse, and- Are you okay Doc?" The young runner noticed the Medic's uneasiness. Sure this was an awkward situation, but he wasn't that unattractive, was he? "Nein. Nein, I am nicht." He cringed at how small and faint his voice sounded, his grip tightening on the chair until the wood creaked in his grasp. Memories, old but painfully clear, clawed up unbidden from the darkest recesses of his mind, and he felt himself trembling. No, no, it wasn't then, it wasn't, no, it was safe here, they wouldn't- couldn't-! He realized the Medic was on the verge of a panic attack, and headed over to the older man before softly placing his hand on the man's shoulder. "Is there anything I can do?" He started to get really worried about the doctor. Not expecting the contact, the Medic flinched, lurching away with a sharp gasp. The sudden motion ruined what little balance he had, and the doctor crashed to the floor with a yelp, the chair coming down with him and slamming against the tile with an almost gun-like BANG. This of course got the Heavy running as fast as he could toward the source of the noise to make sure the Medic was alright. Scout froze, never seeing this side of the Medic before. In truth, it was a side almost no one ever saw, the doctor taking great care to keep himself out of the situations that caused his past to resurface, but lately... Lately it seemed like it was all for naught, as he knelt on all fours struggling to breathe, staring blankly at the bright white tile and seeing something much, much darker. The Heavy pushed the dazed Scout out of the way before tending to the Medic. "Doktor! Doktor. Eet ez safe here! You must try to stay calm!" Very nearly delirious, the only thing that registered of the Russian's presence was /big/. Big and loud and /close/. "N-NEIN!" With surprising speed, the doctor lurched away from his teammates, managing to get to his feet for a moment before tripping over his own boots and slamming down hard on his back. The impact didn't slow him down for long, as he got up on his hands and scrambled backwards into the wall with an audible thud. "L-Lass mich allein, lass mich allein!!" The Heavy backed away, trying to give the panicked doctor more room. "Doktor," he said with a more gentle voice, "Thees ez 1968. War ez over. You are safe." Either the Medic didn't hear or didn't understand, for the words proved useless as the panicked German tried to make himself part of the wall, tears streaming down his deathly pale face. "Weggehen Sie, ich will nicht gehen mit Ihnen!" His voice was hoarse, pitching oddly as it cracked into a terrified sob. The Russian still kept a distance from the Medic while the Scout started to ask, "What the -?" "Get sedative needle. Should be on top drawer of cabinet." The Scout obeyed, not wanting the Medic to harm himself. Seeing an escape in the young runner's vacated space, the doctor lurched forward, meaning to slip by the big man and find somewhere to hide. The Heavy was able to catch the Medic under his arm before shouting to the Scout, "Quickly!" The Bostonian took a little while but found the sedative. "NEIN!" In a deranged parody of a child's tantrum, the doctor kicked and squirmed, fighting with everything he had to try and get free. What little words he had left vanished, leaving him to merely scream and sob in the big Russian's grip, voice pitched up at an octave that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age. The Scout had the needle in his hand and tried to look over the squirming doctor's flailing arms. What was the vein again? Feeling the sharp pinch of the hypodermic, the panicking German lashed out, finding and grabbing hold of the Scout's shoulder in a fear-tight grip. For a split-second, he made eye contact, glasses askew and eyes red-rimmed. Then the drug kicked in, and the doctor fell limp with a soft whimper, eyes rolling up into the back of his head as he passed out. The Scout watched the Medic pass out in the Heavy's arms. Still too worried about the Medic to even ask for an explanation, the Heavy just said to the runner. "I think you should leave." Scout was about to argue that he should stay by the Medic's side, but the Russian shot him a look that could kill. Scout backed off and ran from the Infirmary. And very nearly into the Sniper, who had come to investigate. He grabbed the boy's arm before he could get too far, reeling in the young runner. "Ey! Whoa there, kiddo, what's goin' on?" He tried to calm down before giving him the best answer he could. "I dunno what happened! He just got up and lost it, right in front of me! L-Like he was scared or something!" He felt liquid pool up in his eyes. "A-And I think it's my fault." "Hang on, who-? Ah, kid..." The marksman fumbled a moment through his vest pockets, finally coming up with a handkerchief. He crouched down to the Scout's level, drying the gathering tears with an almost maternal gentleness. "Don' cry, y'know y'face gets all squidgy when y'do that." After a moment, the sharpshooter stood, stepping up and looping an arm around the boy's shoulders as he tucked away his kerchief. "C'mon, the den's free. I'll put the kettle on an' y'can tell me what happened, okay?" He nodded and followed the Sniper into the common room, where he spent the next hour retelling the events. "- so when I tried to stay with him to see if he was alright, the Heavy looked like he was gonna kill me right on the spot and told me t'leave." For a moment, the gunman was quiet, sitting back in his chair with his tea resting in his lap the same as 20 minutes ago, expression inscrutable behind his tinted aviators. Finally, he cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter. "Well. That's... That's somethin'." The Scout just stared at the floor, not wanting to even look at the Sniper. "All I know is that I freaked him out. I reminded him of something bad. It was my fault." Now, /that/ got the Australian's attention. He sat up, leaning over and flicking the young runner between the eyes. "Quit wi'that. Ain't y'fault." He blinked and covered the area between his eyes with his hand. "Then what the hell made him so freaked out?" The Sniper sighed, setting his tea aside and resting his arms over his knees so he could be face to face with the shorter youth. "Look, whatever happened was unintentional, right? So, whatever the trigger was, whatever was said that got the doc all frazzled, y'didn' say it wi'the intent'a causin' 'im t'panic, right?" He nodded. "Of course. I'd never wanna hurt the Doc." The marksman smiled slightly, tilting his head in a small gesture. "There y'go then. Not y'fault. If it's anybody's fault, it's the drongo 'oo hurt 'im in the first place." The runner stood up, feeling half tired from the whole ordeal. "Who would be enough of a dick to hurt him like that?" "No idea. With any luck, the bastard's long dead." Pausing to retrieve his tea, the Sniper stood as well, patting the younger man on the shoulder. "Been a good while now. Why don't ya go an' check up on 'im? Might be wakin' up soon." "And have Heavy pound on me? Are you kidding?" he asked, though it wasn't his main concern about the whole ordeal. "Jus' be polite an' knock. Least y'can ask after 'im, make sure he's a'right an' all." The Scout gave the Sniper a slow nod, feeling a little like a jerk for not thinking of checking up on him at the least. "Right. Can you come with me then?" Mid-sip, the marksman paused, swallowing before giving the runner a curious look. He shrugged after a moment. "If y'think y'need me, don' see why not." "Just to get past Heavy," he said before walking quickly towards the door. "Point taken." The Australian strode after his speedy teammate, using his long legs to his advantage as he followed the boy. Wasn't like he didn't know where the kid was going, after all. Heavy was still tending to the Medic when he heard a knock on the door. He frowned and started to open it. Catching sight of the Russian's glare, the gunman lifted his mug in greeting. "Ey, mate." He snorted and looked down to the Scout. "I thought I told you, go away. " "Look, I'm sorry for whatever happened, but I just wanted to make sure he was alright..." While the Sniper stepped back to watch the show, in the back room, the doctor was slowly starting to come awake as the sedative wore off. He groaned, struggling to remember... Something. Before he fell asleep. Did he fall sleep? He couldn't recall feeling tired when- When... Scout? Yes, Scout. There had been something wrong with Scout... "-I told you Scout. Es not good time. I appreciate you worry but you are not to be involved. End of discussion. You are not getting in." The Medic could hear voices, familiar but faint, and he wondered vaguely why Heavy sounded so cross. Hard to tell though. Russian accents tended to sound cross quite a lot... The Scout crossed his arms and started to sound cross himself. "Then I ain't leaving till I see he's okay." Was that-? "Scout...?" Oh, /ow/. What the- Why did his throat hurt so much?! The doctor coughed, cringing at how hoarse the sound was and giving a somewhat pained moan as he heaved his eyes open. It seemed a Herculean effort, even more so as he blinked, trying to clear his vision. Why-? Oh, right, no glasses. Where...? Coughing again, he struggled to push himself up so he could look for his glasses, his arms feeling heavy and extremely uncoordinated. Heavy turned around at the coughing, and Scout took this as an opportunity to weasel his way into the room and make sure the German was alright. Supporting himself on one arm, the Medic lifted a gloved hand to his face, groaning at the increasingly insistent pounding in his head. "Uuuhhh... Mein kopf..." Heavy went to get the Medic some pain killers, leaving Scout to help put the Medic's glasses on. He jerked at feeling someone touch him, but calmed upon recognizing the slim frame of the young runner and sat still while the boy fumbled with his glasses. Vision cleared, the doctor gave the Bostonian a weary smile. "Dankeschon..." He smiled lightly back at the doctor. "So... Are you doing alright now?" "Ah... Ja? Ich- I have ein bit of a headache, zhough." Why, though, the Medic had no idea. They hadn't had a party recently, had they...? He turned to the Scout, more than a little confused. "Vas I drunk...?" He just stared at the man like he wasn't making much sense. "Not for the last two days..." Heavy butted in with the medicine. "Doktor just slept longer than expected. Ezn't that right Scout?" Scout looked a little dumbfounded at the Heavy's lie. "Ezn't eet?" Not having much choice in the matter, Scout agreed. "Yeah." The doctor frowned, pushing himself to sit upright on the bed. "Was? Again?" He sighed, holding out a hand for the aspirin. "Ach, nein mehr inventory at eins in zhe morgen..." The Heavy handed the aspirin to the Medic before telling Scout. "See. He ez fine. Now do not fret. I am taking good care of Doktor." Popping open the medicine bottle, the German quickly swallowed down two of the bitter pills, making a vaguely disgusted face and shaking his head before resealing the bottle. "Und I zhank you for zhat, mein freund. Ah..." He paused, brow furrowing in thought before he turned his attention to the Scout. "Vas zhere somezhing you needed of mir, Herr Scout?" Scout shook his head. It was pointless to cause any more of a mess anyway. "No. I'm fine. Just wanted to check on ya." The doctor smiled, nodding. "Dankeschon for dein concern. It ist appreciated." That being said, the Medic moved to stand, setting the pill bottle aside to swing his legs into position, and very nearly unbalanced, just catching himself on the bed. A moment to get his bearings, and he gave a soft chuckle. "Seems I overexerted meinself..." "Then stay in bed. There's no need to overdo it again," he answered before looking at the clock. "It's almost 3 AM anyway." "Really?" Leaning over to peer around the Heavy's bulk, the German frowned at the clock, then leaned in the other direction to get a glimpse out the window. "Mein gott, you are right. Vhen did it get so late?!" Heavy butted in. "Ez not important. What you need to do ez rest," the man said with a firm voice. Giving a soft laugh, the Medic shifted to get himself reoriented on the bed. "All right, all right, you vin, I give up." Leaning back on his elbows, he stopped before pulling up the covers. "But, if I am to be zleeping, zhen you are as vell." Chuckling a bit, he shooed his teammates towards the door. "Gehen Sie! To bed!" The two of them nodded and said their good nights before heading out the door. When the door was shut behind them both Scout wanted to confront the Heavy about what he did, but was interrupted by the Russian. "Sometimes eet ez best to have things unsaid, Scout."
Part 8 --- The rest of the week passed without further incident, the Medic's panic attack and following amnesia concerning the event forgotten in the face of the daily battles. When the weekend ceasefire finally came, the doctor was quick to wrap up the day's last injuries, shooing the Demoman out the door and closing it behind the man. Heaving a tired sigh, he looked up to the clock. "Enough time for ein short nap..." Dragging himself over to a gurney, he flopped onto the thin mattress, just managing to put his glasses aside before he dropped off. When the doctor drifted off into dreamland, there was nothing he could do to stop the vision of the dark figure with a scalpel looming over him. It took only a moment for him to recognize the situation, breath catching in his throat, and for a split second, he thought he could feel restraints. But, when he tried to move, to lash out, his hands were free, the scarred things he knew from the waking world. He caught that scalpel bearing hand in its powder blue latex glove, and heard the figure gasp. Scout had overdone his training again, and his muscles were paying for it as the doctor had warned. The young man came with the intent of swiping a few pain pills before going to sleep but saw the Medic wrestling with his own blanket. Unaware of the outside manifestation of his nightmare, the doctor swore as the dark figure lashed out with a blood-stained saw, lurching back to keep his belly from being torn open. The other wasn't quite so scary like this, all slips of shadow and light glinting off metal, but no less dangerous. He had strength on his side this time, though, in a body hardened from two decades on the battlefield, nothing like the slender little girl from his past. "I am not the lesser this time, Sir Angel of Death, I am not weak!" Of course it all sounded like gibberish to the Scout and was afraid that the Medic was having a nightmare. He ran over to the man and shook him. "Wake up!" The doctor lurched up with a fierce battlecry, eyes open and body mobile but mind still caught up in the dream as he tackled the young runner, the gurney toppling over from the force exerted. Gloved hands found unprotected neck, and the Medic snarled as he gripped on tight. "Nie wieder, Herr Todesengel, Sie werden mich wieder nie verletzen!" He choked violently under the Medic's strong grip, afraid for his life. Not exactly being strong enough to fight him off, the Scout whimpered as he tried to think of a way out of the situation. "Ach....DOC!" Not fully registering the boy's voice, the German did, however, catch the differing accent, and his grip loosened ever so slightly as his brow furrowed in confusion. "Wer sind Sie?" "Doc. You're just dreaming. You're at the base, remember?" he said trying to get a word in edgewise. "It's...uh... Quincy." He hated ever saying his real name aloud. The doctor had it on file though and knew it, much to his embarrassment. The Medic's eyes narrowed, attempting to focus on the young runner's face as he frowned. "Quincy...?" A moment's pause, and the doctor's grip loosened completely, a hand coming up to feel the contours of a face he could just barely make out. He blinked, head cocking a bit to once side before he looked up, taking in the bright white environment around him. "Was...?" Quincy hacked after his throat had been released, not quite sure how he would be able to stop coughing. In the back of his mind he made a note not to piss off the good doctor. Blinking in an almost dazed fashion, the doctor finally seemed to come to himself, sitting up and rubbing tiredly at his face with one hand while the other patted at his coat in search of his glasses. "Nnnh... Ah, es tut mir leid, mein freund, Ich- I did nicht recognize you." He was still red faced but tried to give him a nod. After he was finally able to breathe, he said, "Don't worry, I shoulda known better than to wake ya from a nightmare." "Still, I should nicht have attempted to strangle you." That said, the doctor finally slipped on his glasses, blinking as his vision came into focus, and pushed himself to his feet before offering the Scout a hand up. "Vould you like me to look at zhat? Make sure nozhing vas hurt?" He nodded, feeling a little foolish to have come here at all. "Are you sure you wanna help me out though? I mean, you aren't busy or nothing?" A soft chuckle. "Scout, vould I be napping if I had zhings to do?" "I guess not, but you do kinda overwork yourself," he answered before taking a seat on one of the gurneys. "True, I do seem to be doing zhat mehr often..." The Medic gently examined his teammate's throat, frowning slightly. "Some bruising... I zhink I vill get zhe MediGun, just to be certain." "Yeah... Are you sure you are alright?" the boy asked, a little worried about the doctor's state of mind. Nodding, the German unlocked the cabinet that housed his battle gear, hefting the heavy MediPack onto his shoulders. "I am fine, Herr Scout. It vas only ein dream, a powerful dream, but only ein dream. Hold still bitte." With practiced ease, he fiddled with the healing device's settings and directed it at the young runner, pulling back the leaver handle. The runner felt a wash of warm healing all over his body in what he could only describe as "Wow..." The device gave him goosebumps every time he was near that thing, and it never changed no matter how often the doc used it. It really was a fantastic piece of technology, one the Medic was proud to know how to operate. He could understand a little of how the device worked, mainly from studying the care manual he'd been issued by the company, and he couldn't help but marvel each time he saw an injury seal up clean without so much as a scar right before his eyes. The bruises faded within a few moments, but he kept the healing beam going for an extra couple seconds, figuring a little overheal couldn't hurt with someone so active as the Scout. "Zhere ve are. Besser?" He nodded with a smile on his face, and goosebumps on his skin. "Yeah. Better than 3 Bonks in a row, not that I do that much anymore." "Gute for you. I hate to zhink vhat zhat concoction vould do to a body vith long time use..." The doctor shook his head, stepping back over to the cabinet to put the pack away. The Scout got off the gurney and landed on both feet before turning to the Medic. "Thanks for helping me." A soft chuckle, and the doctor turned, giving the runner a smile. "It ist mein job, Herr Scout, no need to zhank me. Zhough it ist most appreciated." "Still..." he fought a blush before finally getting out, "Goodnight." He turned around trying to leave. "Scout. Eins minute, bitte." The cabinet closed with a click, lock engaging, and the Medic approached his younger teammate, expression solemn. "I hate to ask zhis of you, but Herr Heavy refuses to give me a straight answer. I vill understand if you are nervous, but... I need to know." The Bostonian looked away. "Listen. I don't know much about why you did the things you did that night but... I think Heavy's tryin'a protect you or something." "Zhat ist mehr zhen understandable. It ist his job, after all, to protect zhose around him, it ist only natural zhat zhe tendency come vith him off zhe battlefield." He heaved a tired sigh, lifting a hand to brush a few stray hairs from his face. "But I am tired of being lied to, for mein own gute or nicht." The Scout sighed and sat back down on the gurney. "You are not gonna believe me if I tell ya, but- Y'sorta had a panic attack. A freak out. And I accidentally caused it." Seating himself down beside the young runner, the Medic frowned in a thoughtful manner, a brow quirking curiously. "Panic attack...?" "Yeah. I was asking for an unusual favor and you kinda flipped your lid. Not like a normal person would, but you seemed scared of something." The doctor's frown deepened, and he lifted his hands, folding them and resting his head on top. "Unusual? Even for zhis base?" "Well, not for the base but... Basically I had, well, no, still have a problem with eh... Well, the thing is..." It took the Scout a while to explain the last two days in the best way he knew how. Having prepared himself to hear anything from drug addiction to other, more embarrassing medical issues, the Medic managed to keep himself relatively calm when the nature of the Scout's 'issue' surfaced, sitting up stiffly and clenching his hands in his lap. He made no comment, simply letting the young runner talk and nodding every once in a while to show he was listening. When the boy finished, the German sat very still, expression seemingly neutral as he let it all process. He could feel the fear that prickled along the edges of his consciousness, realizing the cause of his panic the first time around as old memories struggled to surface. Inhaling a deep breath, he closed his eyes, clamping down hard on the remembering that was starting to make his heart race. "Dankeschon, mein freund. I understand now." The young man could hear the man's deep breath and could have sworn the Medic was shaking. "Are you sure you're okay? I mean you don't look alright." "J-Ja, I'm fine, I'm fine..." What was that children's rhyme? 'Liar, liar, pants on fire'? He didn't want to panic, he didn't want to lose it, but it was getting harder to focus the more he tried to suppress that which was causing his fear. The doctor swallowed hard, hands folded tightly in his lap as he struggled to calm himself. The Scout frowned. "I think it was something I should have never told ya." "Nein." A moment to breathe, and the Medic forced himself to straighten, to open his eyes. Somehow, he managed to muster up something not-unlike a smile. "Nein, it vould have come up again at some point, vhezher vizh you or someone else. It- It ist besser to face dein fears, ja?" He nodded. "Um... Do y'mind if I hug ya?" The doctor froze, unsure of how to respond with his thoughts all muddled, but some part of him must have known, for he found himself shaking his head. No, he wouldn't mind at all if the runner hugged him. Wouldn't mind at all. Scout then wrapped his arms around the older man as tight as he could. "Just so ya know, I'm here for ya, alright? No matter what kinda shit this thing is." For a split second, the Medic went totally stiff, something in him rebelling against the contact, then it all just sort of- Clicked. He relaxed into the embrace with a somewhat shaky sigh, feeling the worst of the tension fade as he leaned a little into the blessedly benign touch of his teammate. "Dankeschon, mein freund..." "You're welcome... Just -ah- don't tell anybody I do this sort of thing, alright?" he asked, still in a small embrace. A faint chuckle. "I von't, I promise." Funny, it actually felt quite nice just to be held... Experimentally, the doctor shifted, careful not to break the Scout's continued contact as he brought an arm around in an attempt to return the gesture. It was a bit harder than he'd originally imagined, since his upper arms were held in place with the runner's hug, but he managed well enough. The Scout was surprised when he felt a hand around his waistline. This caused the young man to blush before he squirmed free. The Medic was equally red-faced, feeling rather silly as his gaze focused on his boots. "Ah, es tute mir leid, I- I do nicht know vhat came over me..." "No um... It wasn't that I didn't like it or anything. I just kinda liked it too much," Scout said with a red face. "I-I think I should go." "Oh." He hadn't even thought of that. And, for some reason, it didn't really bother him so much knowing it was the Scout instead of someone else. At least he knew he could trust the young runner. "Vell... If zhat ist vhat you feel you must do, zhen I cannicht stop you." More like would not, it was only polite. Even though he wanted to... "Yeah. Um... Good night then," he said before leaving the Infirmary to take care of some business. "Gute nacht." The Medic watched his teammate leave, wondering why the sudden lack of the young runner's presence made him feel so very alone.
Part 9 --- Heavy awakened much earlier than usual that next morning to make some breakfast for the rest of the troop. The large man hummed to himself as he whipped up some pancake batter. The Sniper came trudging in not long after, yawning as he moved to start up the coffee machine. "Mornin', Heavy." "Good morning. Did you sleep well, kamerade?" the Russian asked while flipping the pancake into mid air. A noncommittal shrug. "Eh, well as I can with Solly's bloody dragon breath in m'face." "Have you thought about putting mint leaf on tongue? Might rid of nasty breath." the Heavy suggested as he started to make another pancake. That got a rather amused snort out of the Australian, who leaned up against the counter and ran a hand through his scruffy bed-hair. "I swear, he brushes his teeth like it's his religion, an' I still end up wakin' up to rotten-dead-animal breath. Maybe I should snitch some'a Spy's cologne..." "I do not think he should smell of Spy," the Heavy said. "Have you seen Scout?" he asked. "Good point. Spy's cologne could kill a wallaby at ten paces..." The Sniper straightened a little at the question, trying to remember the last time he'd seen the spastic little gremlin. "Ah... No, actually. Haven' seen 'im since that thing with the Medic couple days back." "Well, I figure I was too hard on leetle boy. After all, he did not mean harm," the giant man said before setting a plate of pancakes down at the Snipers' area of the table. Nodding, the marksman seated himself, using his long arms to his advantage to grab a fork from the drawer behind him. "True, but you were just doin' what you felt was right. Protectin' the doc an' all." When a second plate of stacked pancakes were set on the table, it did not take long for the Scout to arrive at the scene. "Speak o' the Devil, look who's up early." The Australian waved, getting the runner a fork. "You get any sleep, mate? Y'look awful." "No, but uh... I am getting a little more used to it," he said with a half smile before sitting down in front of the plate full of pancakes. "This for me?" Heavy nodded. "Eat. You need to be stronger." Chuckling softly, the marksman shook his head, idly drizzling syrup onto his own pancakes before passing it on. Sure, it was company brand and likely had more chemicals in it than a laboratory, but it tasted good and no one had died from it yet, so no one really cared. "Stop stayin' up so late watchin' those sci-fi things with Pyro an' y'won't be so tired." "I wasn't watching movies this time. Geez." He rubbed his head before taking a huge bite out of his pancakes. "Oh? Than what could'a kept you up so late, ey?" The Sniper had a feeling, but he wanted to hear the kid say it. "Fucking dreams." It was the only answer that the Sniper was going to get from the Scout. "Ah." Nodding sagely, the marksman turned to his own breakfast. If the kid didn't want to tell, that was okay. It wasn't like he couldn't wait and listen for the grapevine AKA Spy. As if it were magic, the Spy walked in the room, fully dressed in his suit. "Bonjour mon comrades. How ez your morning?" The Sniper shrugged, swallowing his mouthful. "Same as usual, Spook. You?" "Nozhing of importance." He turned to the Scout. "By zhe way; Do not do your laundry in zhe middle of zhe night. I had little sleep last night because of zhat racket." Barely suppressing a highly-amused snort, the marksman couldn't keep the grin from his face, and so quickly got to his feet and made for the coffee maker before the runner could notice. No need to embarrass the kid anymore that Spy already had... The red faced Scout groaned before muttering, "Shut up. Just eat some freakin' pancakes and shut up." Spy grinned. "Wiz pleasure." The Sniper returned, properly composed with the coffee pot in hand and a few mugs hooked on his long fingers. It had taken a bit of practice, but he'd gotten good at the whole 'helping serve more than himself' idea. He poured a mug for everyone present, setting one up on the counter for the Heavy before putting the pot back in the machine. Mixing in a little cream, he made a casual interjection. "Y'know, that kinda thing works best if ya have more'n one set o' sheets." Scout grit his teeth to keep from screaming in embarrassment. "Thank you Sniper." He took a sip of coffee to keep the others from talking to him. Chuckling softly, the marksman gave the young runner a friendly nudge with his elbow. "I's a'right, kid, we've all been there." He paused, thinking. "Well, most of us. Dunno about Pyro." "I'm not that young though. I thought I stopped with this crap when I hit 20," he said with a frustrated sigh. "It's like puberty all over again." Shrugging, the Sniper took a sip of his own coffee. "Well, Respawn can be awful quirky sometimes..." Not in the mood to hear anything more, the Scout just left his plate of pancakes and headed back to his own room. Spy tsked at the exit. "Someone ez en a foul mood." "Eh, guess we were givin' a pretty hard time..." While the marksman shook his head and turned back to his own breakfast, the Medic was finally dragging himself to consciousness. He had slept very poorly, as evidenced by the bed clothes flung about and mostly on the floor, but his stomach was telling him it was time to get up, grumbling crossly at its owner. The doctor did his level best to stave off the need to wake up, very much not wanting to be awake when sleep was so much more inviting, but his body's needs finally overrode his mental wants and he sat up, pillow hugged to his chest and hair a wild mess. A moment of dazed quiet staring at the door, and the German groaned, pressing his face into the pillow. The Heavy sighed and stood up from his seat. "I should check on Doktor. Bring him breakfast at least." The Russian started to make a plate to bring to the German. Glancing up from his own meal, the sharpshooter nodded, standing to get a mug of coffee for the big Russian to take along. "Good idea, mate. Makes me wonder how 'e gets along with how often he skips breakkie." It did not take long for the Heavy to gather up all he needed to take to the Medic before he carefully went down the hall with the tray of food. By the time his large teammate arrived in the Infirmary, the Medic had just barely succeeded in dragging himself to the tiny little bathroom that doubled as a detox area, very nearly falling asleep again while washing his hands. He came trudging out just as the Heavy came in, still very much not all the way awake and his pillow tucked under his arm like a small child carrying around a teddy bear. The Heavy gave the Medic a warm smile before telling him. "I have breakfast. You should put meat on bones." He set the tray on one of the sterilized counters before seeing what the Medic might have needed. It took a moment for the doctor to properly register his teammate's presence, stopping and staring at the big Russian in that dazed way only the barely awake ever seem to manage before coming around. "Ah, guten morgen, mein freund..." He trailed off into a wide yawn, a hand lifting to rub tiredly at his eyes. "I take eet you had leetle sleep tonight?" Heavy asked. Nodding, the Medic pawed at his breast pockets in search of his glasses, only to find he was wearing his pajamas and thus had no breast pockets and thus no glasses. Turning to look for them, he yawned and began to explain himself. "Mmm, vas talkingk viz Herr Scout very late, smart junge zhat eins, und did nicht schalfe sehr gute... Wo sind meine Brille?" The large man assumed his teammate was looking for his glasses, because they were missing from his face. "Ah. Will find them. Wait a minute." The Heavy looked around for the Medic's coat where the glasses would most likely be. An idle nod, the doctor not really listening too closely as he tried to focus on the floor, fearing he'd dropped his all important glasses and not wanting to step on them. In his distraction, he didn't really look where he was going, and got the surprise of his life when he walked straight into the wall. He voiced a startled yelp, jerking back and tripping over his own feet, landing on the floor with a thud. It was a good thing he'd been carrying the pillow, since it prevented him from crushing his tailbone painfully on the tile floor. With the glasses in his possession, the Heavy heard the yelp and turned around to find the Medic on the floor. "Are you hurt?" the Russian asked while placing the glasses on the other man's face. Vision coming into focus, the German blinked dazedly for a few moments, then pointed. "I valked into zhe vall." "You should have one place to keep glasses and put them there," he said with a firm tone. The Medic nodded, sitting up in a more proper position. "Lost mein case for zhem a vhile ago. I keep meaningk to get a new vone, but I forget..." He trailed off into a yawn, running a hand through his hair (which did nothing for its frazzled state) before moving to get to his feet. The Heavy waited for the doctor to take a seat before setting the plate of food on the doctor's lap. "I make pancakes. Make sure to eat whole thing. You are too skinny." A pause, the German staring uncomprehending at the plate in his lap before his sleep-slowed mind caught up and he smiled up at the big Russian. "Dankeschon, mein freund. I vill make sure." Chuckling softly, the doctor took up his fork, using the side of the utensil to cut out a few neat bites. Feeling satisfied that the other man had started eating, the Russian sat down beside him to watch him eat. "So, how you feeling today? Better than yesterday?" The Medic nodded, swallowing his bite and taking a sip of coffee. "Tired, but besser. You?" "Am doing well, got extra exercise so we won't lose on the field Monday." The Russian chuckled and asked, "Were you awake last night because of Scout doing laundry as well?" "Mmm, zhat ist gute... Was? Vhy vould Scout be doing laundry?" "Let's just say Spy had good time embarrassing leetle man," he answered before stretching his back. The doctor rolled his eyes over the rim of his coffee mug, shaking his head as he moved to take another bite of pancake. "Herr Spy /alvays/ ist embarrassing Scout..." "I figure he weel switch targets when there ez fresh news," the Heavy responded with a shake of the head. A soft chuckle, and the Medic nodded, humming softly as he ate. "Mmm, gute pancakes, mein freund." "I am glad you enjoyed eet," the Heavy said with a smile before standing up. "I think I will start on dishes now, just enjoy breakfast." Returning the smile, the doctor lifted his mug in acknowledgment of his teammate's leaving and went back to eating. Back in the kitchen, the Soldier came in from the outside door having been through at least an hour of his usual exercise routine. Upon seeing the Sniper, he gave the man a nod before sitting beside him. The marksman nodded in return, smiling slightly as he pushed a plate of pancakes into the infantryman's hands. "Mornin', darl." Solly nodded and started to eat some of the food from his plate. He paused after a moment, his face bearing an expression of sudden surprise, like he realized he had forgotten something. "Make sure to be at our barracks tonight at 1800 hours." "Noted. Eat y'breakfast." The Sniper took a sip of his coffee, almost casually bumping his knee against the Soldier's. The Soldier gave the other man a small hint of a smile as he finished his breakfast. Spy decided to leave the room with his coffee. He was supposed to meet Pyro for a chess game, anyway. Speaking of whom, the firebug came trundling in shortly after the Frenchman took his leave, dirty dishes in one hand and a small box tucked under the opposite arm. He put his dishes in the sink, then looked around, obviously searching for the local spook. "Just left, mate." The Sniper pointed towards the opposite door, and the Pyro nodded, giving a muffled thank you as he pattered out after his chess partner. Now that the two of them were alone, the Soldier felt more comfortable with more contact, and wiggled slightly closer to the Sniper. Chuckling softly, the Australian shifted himself closer as well, pressing them shoulder to shoulder before leaning over and giving the infantryman a chaste peck on the cheek. Spy was already seated at his side of the chessboard when the Pyro managed to make it to the game room. "Well, are we ready to start zhe match?" The fire-starter nodded eagerly, seating himself and popping open the box, setting up the hand-carved (and slightly scorched) wooden pieces. "So, are zhere any recent events that 'ave any significance in your life, or at least detract from zhe usual boredom?" the Spy asked while waiting for Pyro to make his first move. "Mmm, nuh rhealy. Skout'z bein whierd." Smoked glass lenses focused on the board, gloved fingers hovering over a few pieces before coming to rest on the mounted knight. He didn't move yet, finger tapping against the filter of his mask for a moment before he brought the oaken horse and rider onto the field. "But zhen again when does zhat boy not act weird," he answered while analyzing the move the Pyro just made. After a few more minutes, he decided to play a pawn. "Ghud point. Ah fink i'z dat Bonk. Skruing wif 'is brain." The fire-starter carefully studied the Spy's move, one leg crossing over the other as the pyrotechnician thought on his next move. Finally, he moved a pawn, meeting the Spy's head on. "I do not zhink it increases zhe nocturnal emission rate zhough... I looked at zhe can. But it would make sense if zhere was a sleeplessness side effect of sorts," he muttered. "... Ah didn' need tu know dat." The Pyro shook his head, sighing through his filter. "I guess I 'ave gotten a little gossipy." The Spy simply shrugged and carried on as if he never made a social faux pas by moving a rook. A nod, the fire-starter pausing to watch the Frenchman's move before counteracting with his own a few minutes later, shifting another pawn into position. "A bit. I'z naught bad, dough. I'z inner-estin." "Well, what else can one do in zhe middle of nowhere," he said with a chuckle before making his move. "I tell you, we should not be stuck here for much longer.' "O? Whud makes u dink dat?" Bishop into play. "Because we 'ave been here for years doing zhe same zhing over and over again. Eet ez a wonder why we all haven't gone mad." The Pyro gave a thoughtful sound, nodding. "Guhd point. Duhn mean wher gunna be leevin." He sighed. "I supposed zhen we weel all go mad zhen. Or become deserters. Eizzerway, zhe outcome ez not pretty." A soft sigh and a nod, the firestarter making a gesture for the Spy to make his move. "Suhpoz so. Buhd hazn' Mehdik been hur fur, like, ever?" "Oui. I believe zhat he sees zhis place as some sort of safe haven, or a shelter. Zhere must be somezhing worse out zhere zhan 'ere." "Yu fink so?" The Pyro cocked his head curiously, mask-covered chin resting in his gloved hand. "Ave'nt you heard zhe man screaming in zhe middle of zhe night for no apparent reason?" he asked. "Or seen zhe scars on his back? As much as zhe Heavy tries to cover eet up zhere is somezhing about zhe good docteur zhat no one knows." A pause, and the firebug nodded slowly. "Lot mur ofen rezintly. D'screamin Ah meen." "Eet 'as gotten bad enough to detract 'is focus from 'is work, which ez unusual for 'im." He made another move. "Ah kno-dissed. Ever sinz d'pardie..." Hmm, another pawn. A few moments thought, and the Pyro shifted his knight. "Oui, zhat get togezzer." He paid some attention to the board. "I would 'ate to do zhis to an ally, but eef it gets worse... I might 'ave to force my hand and dig up information from his past." The pyrotechnician made a faint disapproving noise at the admission, but finally nodded. "Yu know Ah'll roahst yu alive if yu hurd him, right?" "I would never want to hurt zhe man. He 'as been quite good to all of us. But I zhink zhat zhis situation might get worse eef we just let him stay like zhis." "Guhd. Yur move." The Pyro's knight was already closing in on the Spy's pieces, the pawns beginning to line up in a defensive pattern. He sighed and continued the game.
Would you believe that this isn't even halfway through yet? Part 10 --- It was nearing six PM and the Soldier was finishing the last details. Idly straightening his vest, the Sniper wondered a moment what the infantryman had planned. Well, he had a vague idea, one didn't get close to another person like the pair of them had over the past several months and /not/ start getting a feel for the other's thought process, but he still couldn't help wondering. The Soldier had surprised him before, who was to say the man didn't have more to share? Considering the Soldier couldn't take the Sniper out for tonight, he had to improvise a little. At six o' clock on the dot, it would mark a year since they shared their first kiss, and he was ready to show the other man how much of an impact the Sniper had had on his life. For no real reason that he could pin down, the marksman found himself increasingly nervous, tugging anxiously on the edge of his vest as he walked towards the quarters he and the infantryman had begun to share not so terribly long ago. He'd never really had the best imagination, but what he had was running amok, thinking up and dashing down a number of scenarios that ranged from the utterly mundane to scenes from a poorly written romance novel. Should never have borrowed that from Demo... Realizing he was doing himself no good, the sharpshooter inhaled a deep breath, swiping off his hat and running a hand through his hair before replacing the well-worn akubra. "Here goes nothin'." A moment to compose himself, and the Sniper knocked. "Solly? 'M here, luv." The Soldier opened the door for the other man to reveal a small table in the center of the room. On top of the table was a small bouquet of desert flowers and two plates of fresh cooked rabbit. "Glad ya made it." Upon seeing the almost textbook romantic setting, the gunman's thoughts stalled, and for a moment, he could only stare, eyes wide behind his aviators. "Uh, yeah, 'course I made it..." Still a bit stunned, the Sniper stepped inside, doffing his hat as barely-remembered formal manners dictated. He stopped before the table, well aware of his companion's proximity as he worried the brim of his hat between his fingers. "Solly, what's this all about?" "Let's just say I wanted to thank you for all the good things you brought me the past year." He hugged the man from behind. "I guess I am just a sap, but I kinda enjoy remembering those kind of things." "Oh. OH!" The marksman gave a soft chuckle (not a /giggle/, thank you very much), leaning into the familiar warmth of the Soldier's embrace. "...Has it really been a whole year?" "Yup, counted every second of it. Granted, it might seem a little silly, but what we have was one of the few good things that happened to me," he said. "Thanks for being good to me." "Nah, nah, ain't silly at all..." A year? A whole year? Them? Together? The thought had a rather dopey smile spreading across the Australian's narrow face, and he shifted himself around, using his slimmer build to his advantage so he could return the infantryman's embrace, hat dropping forgotten to the floor. "Thanks f'lettin' me." The infantryman returned the smile and planted a small kiss on his lover's cheek. "Anyway. I kind of borrowed some of the Frog's wine. Let's celebrate." An amused snort. "Y'know he's gonna have a fit when he finds out, right?" Not that he really cared, it was fun getting the oh-so-calm Frenchman to lose his cool. "I think it's worth it this time," the Soldier answered before pulling out a chair for the Sniper. Smiling, the sharpshooter took the offered seat, putting his long legs to use to push out the opposite chair for the other man. "Aye, I'll agree t'that." It didn't take long for the Soldier to dig in. He was rather fond of his own cooking, it was at least not quite so 'well-done' as when Pyro cooked. The Sniper was a bit more sedate, taking his time and just enjoying the evening. He chuckled after a moment, smiling. "Borrowed Engie's pistol, huh?" "Yeah, said he didn't mind," the man answered with a small smile. Then he reached over for the bottle of chilled wine. Pushing the two glass tumblers into the Soldier's reach, the marksman shook his head, relaxing into his seat. "I can figure. Bet he remembers that antelope just as well as I do. How many rounds did y'put in that thing? Six?" "It got the stubborn bastard down, didn't it?" The Soldier grunted while he pulled out the cork with little trouble. "Aye, that's true. Still wound up pickin' buckshot outta our teeth f'r an hour." The Sniper chuckled at the memory, head resting on his hand as he watched the tumblers fill with smooth yellow-white liquid. "We should go out an' do that again, next long ceasefire. Was awful nice sharin' a tent out there with ya..." "Yeah, that was a nice weekend. This time though, I'd rather it be the two of us only," he answered while gently placing his own hand over the other man's. The gunman's smile softened, and he turned his hand to grasp the Soldier's. "Definitely." He lifted his glass with his one free hand and lightly clinked the glass with the Sniper's. The other hand never lost contact. "To... To the hope of another year." The sharpshooter felt his face warm, feeling rather silly but meaning every word. The Soldier gave him a smile and kissed the other's hand. "That won't be too hard. Wishing for it is for pansies. We can make it work as long as we both put effort in it." The marksman knew he had to be quite red in the face by now, and gave a soft chuckle. "Oy, quit that, 'm no lady..." "Sorry, didn't know what to do. Never done anything like this before." "S'a'right, I get whatcha mean." First long-term relationship for the both of them, stood to reason they'd have their fumbles. The Australian smiled, keeping his grasp on the infantryman's hand as he rose from his chair, stepping around the table to give his lover a proper kiss. He accepted the kiss with a smile on his face and kicked the chair out of the way to get closer. The Sniper grinned inwardly, unable to properly make the expression with his mouth otherwise occupied, more than happy to get on the level with the other man by seating himself in the infantryman's lap. He pulled back after a moment, needing to breathe, and couldn't keep the dopey grin off his face. "Happy Anniversary, luv." "You too." he answered before giving his lover another kiss. --- While the two lovebirds celebrated, Heavy decided to check on the doctor one last time before he retired for the evening. The Medic was seated at his desk, humming contentedly to himself as he reviewed the team's health records. He'd spent the day quite productively in his opinion, despite his late start, the paperwork that had been piling up sorted and the inventory taken. A little low on morphine and aspirin, but otherwise normal for being between supply trains. "Hmmm, looks like it ist time for ein team physical. Scout ist nicht zhat short anymore..." Heavy knocked on the door as gentle as he could, knowing if he used his full force the door would be broken down. "Doktor. May I come in?" "Hm? Ah, ja, mein freund, come in, bitte." The German neatly put his files back into order, making a mental note to inform the team of the needed checkups in the morning. He smiled at the big Russian as he came in. "Guten Abend, Nikolai. I trust you are vell?" "I am well. What about you, Doktor, have you got much work done?" the large man asked before sitting on a stool. Nodding, the Medic smiled as he open a drawer in his desk, neatly putting the files away. "Ja, actually. Zhe inventory vas taken, und I got all mein papervork done... I even found some old books of mine I zhought I lost!" He gestured to a small stack on the edge of his desk; a hardback book and three paperbacks. "Vhy in zhe vorld zhey vere in mein sock drawer, I vill never know..." "You must have strange reason," the man responded with a deep chuckle. "I am glad you are having much success today." "As am I!" The doctor smiled, pushing his chair back and moving to get to his feet, only to have to grab onto the edge of the desk as he stumbled. "Ach, vas sitting longer zhen I zhought..." "Do you need help?" the Russian asked before inching closer to the Medic. "Nein, I am fine, mein foot fell asleep..." He attempted to straighten, giving a soft squeak as he felt something pop and his legs gave out completely under him. Heavy rushed over to the Medic and scooped him up in his arms. "Are you sure you did not break legs?" The doctor tried to stop his friend, but before he could speak, he was already being heaved up off the floor. He made a strangled sound, gloved fingers gripping his teammate's vest as a sharp jolt of pain went up his spine. It took him a moment to come back to himself, teeth gritted and his breathing hoarse. "J-Ja. I- I zhink I must have pulled somezhing..." Or pinched. Or twisted. It was hard to tell, the pain focused somewhere... In his pelvis? "Heavy, bitte, put mir down on zhe gurney, ja?" He obeyed the doctor's orders and placed him gently on the nearest gurney. "Do you need ice Doktor?" Shaking his head, the Medic pointed across the room at a drawer beside the sink. "Hot vasser bottle." With any luck, it would be a pulled muscle and the heat would ease the strain. A pinched nerve would need ice and possibly surgery, which was something he very much did not want to have to do on himself, since he would have to be fully lucid through the process. Once in a lifetime was enough... Nikolai hurried over to the drawer to find and fill the hot water bottle. Once he finished his task he handed it to the Medic to place it on whatever he needed. The doctor was already lying down by the time the Heavy returned, struggling to calm himself and try to think on what he could have done to cause his current state. He managed a thin smile at seeing his teammate, taking the hot water bottle and lying it across his lower abdomen. "Dankeschon, mein freund..." When he saw the place where the doctor put the hot compress, he frowned and asked in a hushed voice. "Do you think it is something to do with surgery?" It took a moment for the Medic to properly comprehend the question, and then he blanched, looking up to meet the Russian's gaze with obvious fear in his own. Right, vodka... "I hope nicht..." He just gave him a quick nod and said. "I apologize for bringing up. Do you need me to tend to you tonight until you feel better?" The German shook his head, but then paused, and nodded. "It vould be nice to have company..." He smiled and gave the Medic a pleasant nod before sitting down and clearing his throat. "So, what would you like me to do? Talk? Sing you to sleep? Read maybe?" A soft chuckle, and the doctor lifted a hand to gesture to his room. "I vas just starting ein new Sherlock Holmes..." "Right, I will get you book." the Russian answered before leaving. "Dankeschon, mein freund." The Medic waited patiently, his gaze focused on the ceiling and his fingers tapping mutedly on the warm rubber of the hot water bottle. It had been almost 30 years, nearly three whole decades since that awful time, the time he hated to remember but was reminded of with every glance into a mirror. He had been thankful for the lack of complications, for the ability to survive and attempt to move on unlike so many others. Others who had died, who had been crippled... He swallowed hard, biting down on his lower lip to keep the fearful sounds inside. Heavy returned with the book and sat beside the gurney before opening the book. "Alright. Where should we begin?" The doctor blinked, half-wondering when he'd closed his eyes as he turned his gaze to his teammate. "Ah, I vas startingk on zhe Adventure auf zhe Crooked Man..." "Right." He cleared his throat and began reading. It did not take long for the doctor to doze off, and once Nikolai was sure the other man was asleep, he headed to his own bed. A busy day and a stressful evening combined with the soothing effects of his friend's warm baritone proved to be the perfect sleep aide. But one's subconscious has ways of taking the worries and fears of the waking world and twisting them into the sleeping mind. After only an hour of peaceful slumber, the Medic began to whimper softly in his sleep as thoughts turned to nightmares. This time the setting was at a local bar, and a slender young woman with blonde hair sat across from the young Medic. "Don't be so nervous, you're going to be great on stage." "But Genni..." He, no, she shook her head, thin brows furrowed as she investigated the bottom of her glass through the golden amber alcohol within. "What if I mess up? What if I trip or- or my skirt comes loose or I forget the steps or-!" "This is why you need to relax," the young lady giggled before pushing the beer closer. "The more you fret, the more likely you will mess up." She sighed, idly twirling a thin finger through her drink before lifting it to her mouth. "I still don't see why beer is relaxing..." "Just trust me, alright?" she said with a sweet smile. A man from the corner of the room smiled and combed his hair back. He was obviously looking for a good time with one of the ladies. "Well... Just promise you won't get me horribly drunk like Mikesh last summer, okay? We have the performance tomorrow night, and I don't want to suffer through a hangover for the first time and still have to dance." That said, she sipped daintily from the tankard, making a face at the somewhat bitter taste. "Don't worry. I'd never put you through that." She winked before drinking her own beer. The sound of a cleared throat came from behind the two ladies. Mid-sip, she looked up and back over her shoulder, cringing slightly away from the man standing uncomfortably close. Swallowing the smooth bitter, she decided to err on the side of caution. "Can we help you, sir?" "Just for you to attach a name to that pretty lips yours," the slightly intoxicated man said with a small smile. Casting a nervous glance over to her friend, she took another sip of her beer to stall for time and wet her suddenly dry throat. "Ah, Hanne. Hanne Kappel. And you, sir?" Still ever wanting to be the 'smooth operator' he leaned forward and said, "You can just call me Hansel." As the man leaned forward, she leaned back, keeping her distance as much as possible. She looked to Genni again, wondering why the older girl wasn't helping her escape this creeper's attention. "Well, ah, Hansel, i-it was nice meeting you, but my friend and I really must be going." Using her slim frame to her advantage, she slid down from the bar stool, stepping out of the man's presence and taking her friend's hand. "Right Genni?" "Right..." She followed her friend out into the crowd, trying to slip out of the man's sight. "You can never be too careful. Sneaky creepers some men are." "Obviously." Halfway to the door, she paused, a thumb lifting to her mouth as she glanced around the crowded dance floor. "We should find the other girls, make sure they're safe. There are other places to go, yes?" She gave Hanne a small smile and nodded while taking her hand. "I bet that Hansel fellow was looking for a nice round in the sack with you though," she teased. Almost immediately, the younger girl blushed bright red and did an abrupt about face, giving her friend an utterly disgusted look. "Genni! I'm fourt-!" Bar! "I am too young for him, and I have my dancing to consider! You do too, so don't go getting any ideas!" "Oh come on, Hanne. Don't tell me you never even thought about what it was like. Have you even kissed anyone yet?" she asked in a playful manner. Her blush deepened, and she turned, making stiffly for the door. "Genni, you know very well I haven't time for boys." The elder girl stopped walking. "Really? You were never even curious?" "Oh, of course I'm curious! It's just- Not the proper time for that sort of thing." Goodness, where in the world did the door get to?! Genni sighed and dragged her friend out the door that led them to an alleyway. "You didn't even drink the whole thing. You're such a lightweight." "I am not! And I got through half of the pint!" At least, she thought it was a pint. That was how much went into a tankard, right? Ooo, why was the floor all wobbly? Feeling slightly nauseous, she found herself clinging to the elder girl. "Besides, I've never been drinking before, you know that!" "Just relax, okay? Don't get all upset, I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings." She leaned against the wall with the other girl on her arm. "I'll keep talking so you can concentrate, alright?" Realizing she was more than a little off kilter, Hanne nodded, leaning against the wall beside the older girl and slumping against her friend. "...I'm cold." "Alright. Let me give you my jacket." She stopped for a moment hand over her jacket and said, "We're almost to the hostel, just keep awake." Nodding, she tugged the jacket closed, only pause mid-motion and frown down at the thin canvas. "Where did my jacket go...?" "We probably left it at the bar. It's no big deal we can replace it another time." she answered. "So, about our conversation earlier, what kind of guy would you want to date once you're done touring?" "But Mama made that jacket for me-!" Not really thinking and totally ignoring the question, she turned away, stumbling a little as she made to go back and find her own jacket. "Wait up! You'll hurt yourself!" Genni called out, running after her. "I'll help you find it." With the elder girl's help, it didn't take long to return to the bar, now a bit quieter due to the increasingly late hour. Her jacket was right where she'd left it, hanging off one of the barstool's rungs. But the barstool itself was occupied. By Hansel. The man turned around and gave the two girls a smile. "Nice to see you again, Hanne. I believe you were missing your coat?" he asked, gesturing to the lost item in question. A slow nod, the young girl glancing between the man and her friend. "Yes... Can I have it back, please?" "Of course, it is rightfully yours." The man said with the same smile. "But in return I think you should give me a kiss." "Excuse me?" Hansel had to be at least 20 years her senior, and while not unattractive, she very much did not like the man. He was too creepy! "It's my jacket, and it hasn't moved. You did nothing." "I kept an eye on it while you were gone. That must count for something, does it not?" he asked, not changing his tone. Genni intervened. "She said no, just leave my friend alone. Come on, Hanne." She took the jacket and dragged her friend out of the bar. Hanne was all too happy for the intervention, more than a little unnerved by the whole situation. She'd never met a man like Hansel... They paused outside an alleyway to swap jackets, buttoning them against the growing chill, and the younger girl glanced back down the street towards the bar. "G-Genni. He's following us-!" With a bit of quick thinking, Genni pulled her friend into the shadows of the alleyway as the man walked past them, unsuspecting. She let out a sigh of relief. "Why is he following us? Genni, why is he following us?!" "He must be the type of guy that doesn't take no for an answer." She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. "We just need to lay low for a little while." A nod, the younger girl huddling close to her friend. "...I'm scared, Genni." "It will be alright, now." She cuddled with her friend before giving her a small smile. "As long as we're together we will be alright." "Okay..." They stood together in the alley, waiting for a good few minutes to be sure Hansel was gone before starting for home once more. Genni still held her friend's hand and said, "On the bright side, not all men are like this. You're pretty, I am sure you will find a nice one." Hanne nodded, glancing around nervously. "I hope so..." She felt her face going red. "As much as I like to talk... I never kissed a man either." The younger girl managed a smile, giggling softly. "I should think not, you're only 6 months older than me!" She giggled with her friend and playfully shoved her, the alcohol getting to her also. "You know what? Instead of giving my first kiss to some guy, I want to give it to someone more special. Like my best friend." Hanne shoved back, stumbling a little. "Heh, that would be nice..." She stopped walking and turned around to face her friend. "Then how about it? Just a small kiss... To see what it's like." "R-Right now?" The young blonde felt her face warm, blushing as she smiled shyly. "Well, if you really want..." She nodded and made some silly puckering faces to lighten the mood a bit. Giggling, Hanne stood on tip-toe, wobbling precariously as she came level with her taller companion. A little fumbling to find a bit better balance, and she caught her friend's puckering lips in a somewhat clumsy kiss. Genni widened her eyes in a small shock before melting into the kiss. This was.... "Homosexuals!" The cry came from the open end of the alleyway. Hansel was blocking the exit with two officers. "Homosexuality is against the law not to mention unnatural, seize them at once." "Yes sir," the men answered before seizing the girls. Hanne jerked away from the kiss, fear plain on her face as she hugged onto her friend, only to be pulled roughly away by the much stronger and older men. She struggled, kicking out with the might of a dancer's legs and clocking one of the officers upside the head with her shoe as it went flying off her foot. "G-Genni! Genni, run! Run!" Genni tried, but there were other officers, brandishing clubs as they chased her down. They were barely out of sight when the sound of screams and thrashing could be heard from the street. And then the screaming stopped. "GENNI!" The Medic lurched awake, gasping for air as he sat up on the gurney. Well, he tried to. He only made it halfway up before a jolt of pain jerked up through him from his still-aching pelvis, forcing him back onto the thin mattress. It took several moments for him to come back to himself, struggling to get his breath back and overcome the pain that left him staring blankly up at the ceiling. A memory... He felt his breath hitch, and he grimaced, lying back as tears stung his eyes. "Es tute mir leid, meine Freundin. Es tute mir leid..." Scout was in the laundry room, trying to see if he could steal a spare set of bedsheets when he could have sworn that he heard some kind of commotion coming from the Infirmary. He didn't even stop to hesitate as he opened the door to see the shaken German lying still atop a gurney. The doctor didn't even notice, more concentrated on keeping his crying from getting too loud. He didn't want to wake anyone, it was bad enough having everybody worrying about him, there was no need to have their worries confirmed. God, he felt so pathetic... "Doc?" the young man asked as he inched toward the source of the crying. "Are you alright?" Damn it. The Medic grimaced, struggling to get himself under control and failing miserably. "Nein..." The Scout sat himself down on the stool beside the gurney and lightly placed his hand on top of the Medic's, like he used to do for his Ma when she was upset. "It'll be okay..." Swallowing, the doctor turned his hand palm up and took hold of the runner's hand with a shaking grip. "I h-hope so..." "I know it will, alright? As long as we're all together here on the base, then you're safe. I mean we're like family, ya know?" he answered giving a small squeeze. A soft, strained laugh, the sound trailing off into a pained groan. "Was eine familie..." The Medic let his head loll to the side, managing a thin smile for the younger man. "Zhank you." "Just... Don't get so sad anymore, alright? I hate to see ya like that," he answered in all seriousness. Another laugh, this one sounding very hollow as the German redirected his gaze to the ceiling before closing his eyes. "I vill try, Quincy. But zhe subconscious ist difficult to control at best." He frowned before saying, "Then I'll stay tonight. Just to make sure you get some sleep if nothing else." "...Dankeschon." The doctor fell silent after that, feeling very small and oh so vulnerable as he lay staring at the ceiling, clinging tightly to the hand in his grasp. After a long few moments, he spoke up again, his voice soft. "You remind me. Of her." He caught the words and in utter curiosity he asked, "Of who?" "Genni. Genevieve Von Brandt." The Medic sighed, the sound hanging heavy and sad in the air. "She- She vas meine beste Freundin..." "Oh... Kinda like a childhood sweetheart or something?" he asked, his curiosity piqued. A small nod. "Somezhing like zhat..." The doctor swallowed, fighting to keep himself together as the newly refreshed memory threatened to push him over the edge. "She- She vas alvays zhe strong vone. Older zhan mir, und sehr talented. Smart und pretty und-" He broke off, taking a deep breath and exhaling it in a shaking sigh. "I miss h-her." Then the Scout put two and two together and realized the woman he was talking about was long gone. "Oh..." He let go of the other man's hand and moved to the other side of the gurney before crawling up beside the Medic. There was a moment of panic when he felt the runner let go, but he calmed when he felt the warmth of the younger man press up against his side. He turned slightly, lifting an arm to loop around the Scout's shoulders to not only bring the boy closer, but to prevent him falling off the narrow gurney as well. "She vould have liked you, I zhink." The German gave a soft chuckle. "She had a penchant for gettingk into trouble." He smiled and buried his head against the man's chest. "Yeah? What other good stuff do you remember about her?" "Vell..." More than thankful for the distraction, the Medic recalled everything he could about his childhood friend; her grace and poise on the dance floor that contrasted so brightly with her flamboyant personality, how she once commandeered their neighbor's tractor and ended up causing a stampede when she lost control and drove the vehicle through the barn, spooking the entire herd of dairy goats. "I vas alvays tryingk to keep her out of trouble, but zhen got dragged into it all anyvay..." He chuckled, then trailed off into a soft yawn, nuzzling his face into the Scout's soft hair. "Sounds like she was one in a million, Doc," Quincy answered before letting out a small yawn of his own. "Guess we need to get some sleep...." “Ja. Ja, she vas...†The doctor yawned again, his breath ruffling the runner’s hair as he shifted to cuddle a bit closer, and finally fell into a blissful, dreamless sleep.
This one is BIG. Part 11 --- That next morning when the Scout blinked awake it took him a minute to realize where he was. The Medic was still asleep, his expression serene and his breathing calm. He had moved a bit during the night, rolling onto his side and hugging the runner close as if the boy were an over-sized teddy bear. Barely awake, the Scout was not ready to move out of the doctor's grasp just yet. Besides... This kinda felt nice. Mumbling under his breath, the German moved to cuddle a bit closer, shifting to bump his forehead against the runner’s. It had been a long time since he’d been able to sleep so well, the past week or so having been much more stressful than usual. The extra contact was enough to make the Scout blush. This was getting a little too close for comfort. He opted to try and slip out from the other man's grasp. Which only prompted the doctor to cling tighter, frowning slightly. Damn. Guess he would just have to be the Medic's teddy bear until the man woke up. It didn’t take very long, the base alarm going off with its usual promptness. “...Mmmmmurgh, funf minuten, Mutti...†He still felt his face flush before he gave the Medic a small shake. "Hey, we need to get up." “Was...?†The doctor cracked an eye open, brow furrowing a moment before blinking and opening both to focus on the Scout. “Quincy?†He smiled and said, "I came over here last night. Were you able to sleep any better?" A moment’s thought, and the Medic nodded, shifting himself around and letting go of his teammate, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. He winced a little, muscles pulling, but the mind-boggling pain that had plagued him before had faded. Guess it was just a pulled muscle... “Zhere vere keine traume, so... Ja, much besser.†The Scout smiled and nodded before trying to get out of the bed. However it proved to be a difficult task since his leg was tangled in the sheets. Noticing the runner's dilemma, the doctor straightened himself out a bit more, pausing a moment to make sure he could balance well enough before turning and untangling the runner's leg. Quincy smiled and gave him a small, "Thanks," before getting off of the gurney altogether. "Do you need help getting off?" he asked, meaning assisting the doctor off of the gurney. "Bitte schon..." The Medic paused, giving the boy a side-long glance at the odd phrasing off his sentence. It took a minute before the Scout registered what he just said. "Oh! I- I didn't mean it like that, man, sorry." He let the Medic grab his hand so he could gain balance as soon as he landed on the floor. "I figured as much." With the runner's help and a hand on the gurney, the doctor was able to get himself standing without too much trouble. His posture remained somewhat hunched, however, his body still aching. "Dankeschon. For staying." "Of course... I mean why not? You do all kinds of good things for me on base. I was returning the favor," he answered before frowning at the sight of the Medic's hunched posture. The doctor gave a soft laugh, a thin smile tugging at his lips as he shook his head. "True, but it ist mein job to take care of mein team. It ist nicht dein to care for me..." A hand still gripping the gurney for support, the Medic attempted to straighten, only to grimace and halt the motion, his free arm moving to hug his lower belly. "Unnnh... Mehr zhen ein pulled muscle..." The Scout didn't hesitate the support the man as soon as he saw the German waver. "Wait a minute. Slow down..." He frowned and said, "Don't we need to, like, get you to a hospital or something?" A sharp snort. "Was hospital? Ve're in zhe middle of ein desert vith zhe nearest civilization tryingk to kill us as much as ve are zhem." Heaving a tired sigh, the Medic moved his arm from his stomach to loop around the runner's shoulders, thankful the youth was there to help. "I need to get zhe ibuprofen..." "I'll get it then. You just stay here, and maybe we can figure out what is wrong with you," he said before leaving the Medic by the gurney and heading toward the area where the ibuprofen would be. "Alright..." The doctor stepped back, using the gurney for support as he watched the Scout tromp over to the medicine cabinets. He felt so useless all of a sudden, tired and aching and just- Useless. Years now he had been a doctor, fighting to find purpose, and now here he was, needing help to just go and get some medicine because he didn't know what else to do. If only he could figure out what was wrong-! It didn't take long for him to get the medicine. Then, he handed him the pills as well as some water from one of the disposable paper cups the doctor kept for his patients. "Here." "Danke." The Medic popped the two white pills, leaning heavily on the gurney to down them with the water. It would take a couple minutes for the pain relieving effects to kick in, but he was feeling crummy and impatient, and so stood as best he could before turning towards his room. He managed to walk alright, his pace slow but steady as he started for the private back room. "Quincy, may I ask you ein favor?" He nodded. "Sure. Whatever you want." The Scout was still worried about the older man but far be it from him to interfere. "Gute. Help mir to mein room, bitte. It hurts to stand..." It didn't take long with the runner's help, and the doctor couldn't help a small sigh of relief as he was able to sit down on his bed. The mattress was old, but it was much better than the gurney, and it was much easier to sit up. A deep breath to calm his nerves, and the Medic started to unbutton his coat. "Zhe favor I ask ist to see vhat I can nicht. I- I do nicht know vhat ist wrong vith mir..." The Scout just cleared his throat and nodded. "Right. I understand. Just tell me what I am supposed to be looking for and I'll do my best." "Anyzhing out of zhe ordinary really. Bruises are most likely..." Coat off, shirt and gloves quick to follow after, leaving the doctor bare from the waist up. Outside the more obvious whip scarring across his back, there was other, less visible scarring, thin precise lines so old they had turned white. And they were everywhere. Shifting, the Medic unbuttoned his pants, loosening the waistline until his body was visible all the way down to his hips. "...Ist zhere anyzhing zhere?" He tried to look for any sign of bruising or redness on the skin, including his hips but he could not find any. "No. Sorry. Just lots of old scars." Well, that was no help. And there wasn't anything off with his front either. The doctor heaved a frustrated sigh, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. No outward signs of the pain at all. "Dankeschon, Herr Scout. I vill have to consult mein books later..." He started to get dressed again, not wanting to get out clean clothes before he was cleaned up himself. Scout felt bad that he wasn't able to help the other man with his problem. Maybe it was best if he left the man and got the Heavy to assist him. But he was still curious about the scars. There were much more than he realized. He managed to get his shirt on before giving up on the notion, his hands dropping into his lap and leaving the white button down open. "Ist zhere somezhing you vish to ask...?" "I mean, I understand the scars on your back but... Why do you have so many scars on your hips?" he asked. "Is that maybe the reason why you have nightmares in the first place?" The doctor stiffened, just for a moment, hands folding together as his shoulders hunched in a defensive manner. "Zhey are... Most of zhe reason." "Oh..." He had a feeling the other man wasn't quite willing to talk about it. "Well... If you ever feel like you need to get it off your chest or something- It doesn't have to be now, you know, it can be whenever... I'll listen." A soft laugh, the Medic looking back with a small smile. "Zhank you, Quincy. I appreciate zhe offer. I may even take you up on it. Sometime..." It was one thing to reveal his past with vodka dulling his inhibitions, another entirely to do so sober. But the Scout was trying, and for that, he was grateful. He nodded before he turned to the door. "I guess I'll be leaving now. No point in staying in the Infirmary all day." The doctor nodded, knowing the Scout probably had other, better things to do than hang around a lonely old man. Even so, his body seemed to droop, weariness showing through. "Vould you mind gettingk Nikolai for me? Und tell zhe ozzers I am not feeling vell..." He could hear the disappointment in the other man's voice and did not move an inch. "I'll get him for you and come back I guess. I mean, if I am not annoying you or anything..." A small smile. "It ist nice to have company." The Heavy was nice, but his overly-caring nature got very difficult to handle when one had to deal with it almost constantly, and the vast majority of the Medic's time was spent in the Infirmary, so the others very rarely got around to visiting. He didn't blame them, the Infirmary was rather out of the way and they had other things to do. But... He did wish they would visit. The Scout nodded and left to get the Heavy. Nikolai agreed to come with the young man and brought some sandwiches for the visit, as well as the book that the Medic had been reading. By the time the pair returned, the ibuprofen had kicked in and the doctor mustered enough strength to get to the bathroom and get himself cleaned up a bit. He was just buttoning up a clean shirt when he heard the door open, and his mood brightened considerably upon hearing two sets of footsteps instead of just one. "Morgen, mein Freunds." The Heavy smiled and placed the plate of sandwiches on the counter. "Da. Nice to see you feeling better." Scout took the time to place the book on the Medic's nightstand. "Zhe miracle of pain relievers, ja?" The German chuckled softly, tucking in his shirt before seating himself on the bed. He moved carefully, not wanting to strain anything unawares while the ibuprofen was in his system. Seeing the book, the doctor smiled, pleased to see the somewhat battered green hardback being cared for. "Danke, I vas vondering vhere zhat got to." "I took with me after you fell asleep," the Heavy answered. "I asked Scout to fetch for me. I also brought sandwiches." He gestured to the plate. "Both of you eat up. Eet iz delicious." The doctor nodded, moving to take one of the sandwich halves. "Dankeschon, I vas getting razzer peckish." As if to prove the statement, the German's stomach chose that moment to grumble quite loudly, and he blushed. "Entschuldigun..." Scout just ignored the situation before taking a sandwich for himself. As the three of them enjoyed each other's company, it was apparent that the Heavy was doing his best to appear amiable to the Scout and visa versa for the doctor's sake. The Medic was not oblivious, and though he hated to admit it, he could see his teammates weren't exactly comfortable. It was disappointing, but understandable. It wasn't like they really hung around each other on their own time... Restraining the urge to sigh, the doctor finished his sandwich, the good food tasteless to his tongue. "You know, if you are uncomfortable, you do nicht have to linger..." Scout was the first one to interject, albeit with his mouth full of sandwich. "Vhat do oou me?" He swallowed then spoke in a much more clear voice. "We're both your friends. We like hanging around you, so don't worry about it." The Russian nodded in agreement. "True, und I appreciate zhat. But even I can see you are nicht comfortable vith one anozzer..." The Medic sighed, hands folding in his lap. Heavy frowned and said. "Just because I do not like leetle baby man, does not mean I cannot be civil." Scout just rolled his eyes not willing to comment. Another sigh. "Never mind..." The doctor slowly got to his feet, stumbling a moment and having to catch himself on the Heavy's shoulder. "Unnh, Gott verdammnit..." The Heavy caught the other man to keep him from falling completely. "Are you still hurting?" the large Russian asked with worry written on his face. "Nicht hurting, per se..." The pain killers took care of that, but his body still felt weak. It was more than a little frustrating. The larger man just lead him toward to one of the stools for the man to sit. Scout was looking visibly worried about him. "Dude, I think maybe we should call headquarters about this..." A rough laugh, the doctor leaning heavily on the stool but refusing to sit. "Was vould zhey care? Zhey never did before, vhy vould zhey now?" "Well, we can't just let you get worse," the Scout said, clearly feeling clueless about what to do. "Doktor... We need to get help." "Vhere? Bitte, tell me vhere ve can get help, out here in zhe middle of novhere." The Medic knew it was very unlike him to be so negative, but he was scared and hurting and vulnerable, a combination that did nothing to help his attitude. "Spy might have connections," the Heavy answered with a grim determination. "Eet might mean telling him truth of things, but iz better than letting you suffer." A long moment of silence, and the doctor seemed to just wilt, letting out a shaking sigh. "...Alright. Give mir some time to try on mein own, zhen I vill ask." "I will give three days, Doktor. I am not trying to hurt you, we are all just worried for you," the Heavy said, not wanting to see him like this. "I know, I know..." The Medic finally sat himself on the stool, his stocking feet tucking into the wooden rungs. "Ten years of schooling, und you vould zhink I vould be able to find out vhat ist wrong." "Maybe it has something to do with what you were not taught in school?" the Heavy suggested. Scout looked like he was torn between confusion and pondering something. "Yeah... It ain't like Respawn and MediGuns are something we all know about." A pause, followed by a slow nod. "Zhat ist true..." Sure, he'd been taught the basic maintenance and what to look out for malfunction wise, but it wasn't like he actually /knew/ how the MediGun worked. The Engineer had tried to explain it once, but once letters started getting mixed in with numbers and then something about specialized metals- It had not been a very fruitful conversation. The Heavy nodded. "That might be good idea. Maybe something happen because of last Respawn?" "Maybe. Zhere vas somezhing about ein system update a few days ago..." The Medic trailed off, pale brows furrowing before something seemed to click and his face went pale. "I need to talk vizh zhe Engineer." "I will get Engineer for you. Scout, you take care of Medic," the Heavy ordered. The Scout didn't mind and just shrugged. "Vait!" The doctor lurched forward, nearly falling off the stool in the motion needed to grab the Heavy's arm. "I need to know vhat vas changed in zhe update, it could be essential!" "And who better than Engineer to tell you update?" the confused Heavy asked. "Nein, I need him to bring zhe papers, zhe reports-! Bozh now und before. To compare, see if anyzhing vas altered." The Heavy nodded. "So do you need assistance getting to Engineer?" "Bitte." It wasn't that he didn't trust the big Russian, far from it, but he knew for a fact that the Engineer would want specifics that the Heavy would not have. Disentangling himself from the stool, the doctor found his gaze catching on the Scout. "Zhis may concern you as vell, Quincy." "What do ya mea- Oh..." he nodded and stepped closer to the door. "Then I'll come with you." Heavy decided to save the Medic's energy and scooped him up from the ground. For once, the doctor didn't protest being carried, far too worried about the possible alterations that could have occurred in the system update. It wasn't just about him anymore, it was about the whole team. He would have to call them in for checkups immediately, make sure everyone was alright. The Engineer was seated in his workshop as usual, humming idly as he tinkered with a few little bits and bobs on his workbench. He very nearly lost his seat when his door burst open, giving a startled yelp as he spun around. "What in tarnation-?!" "Engineer... we need your help. Doktor ez not feeling well and we have a feeling iz Respawn's fault," he summarized before setting the doctor down in the closest chair. The Medic allowed himself to be seated, thanking the big Russian for his help before turning to the Engineer. "Nikolai ist right. Zhere ist somezhing wrong vith me und zhere seems to be to outside cause. I can nicht diagnose anyzhing, und zhere ist no outvard signs." For a moment, the Texan simply sat there, eyes darting behind his half-moon spectacles. "Okay... Whaddya want from me, Doc?" "Zhe genetic templates, before und after zhe update." Genetic templates? What the hell are those? The Scout furrowed his brow in a moment of contemplation. He was never really good at school so all of this stuff went easily over his head. "What's genetic?" A pause, the doctor and the inventor exchanging a bewildered glance before the Texan spoke up. "Your genes, kid. Your DNA. It's what makes you, well, you. Physically, at least." He felt kind of stupid asking the question but nodded after receiving the answer. Then after a minute or so, it clicked. "Wait... That thing has access to what makes us, us? It can change our bodies?" he asked a little frightened at the prospect. The Medic nodded, expression grim. "Exactly. It ist vhat allows zhe MediGun to heal und zhe Respawn to rebuild. If zhere vere changes..." He trailed off, frowning as a hand fell to his stomach. "Well, who would even be able to mess with that kind of stuff? I mean, this is something like out of the comic books already..." Scout said as he leaned against one of the walls. The doctor opened his mouth to explain, but the Engineer jumped in first. "It's in the contract when y'first sign on; page 14, section 4c. Basically, gives the company the right t'record y'r genetic makeup an' memories t'be used in the Respawn an' the related tech." Another nod from the Medic. "Ja. It ist vhy zhe initial physical examination ist sehr important." "But... They just rushed me through it all. Said I wouldn't understand it anyway," he said feeling even more stupid that he didn't take as much time to read it as he should have. "Mmhm, they tried that with me too. Don't want us hired hands lookin' too close at what we're gettin' into. Lucky f'r me-" The Texan tapped his temple with a callused finger. "I got a photographic memory." The Medic frowned thoughtfully, lifting a hand to rest his head on. "Zhe policy hast changed zhen since I signed on. I vas allowed to read zhe contract at mein own pace. Of course, I vas also giving it in zhe mail, so..." He shrugged, looking to the Scout. "You've been here the longest, so I guess that kinda makes sense," the Scout replied. Heavy took all of the information in and frowned. "Something sneaky es going on." "Undoubtedly. Engineer...?" "Already on it, Doc." The inventor leaned back, reaching into a thin drawer in his workbench, pulling out a pair of keys and tucking them into his front overall pocket before getting to his feet. "Right, we need'a get t'the data mainframe. If I remember right, it's stored behind the Resupply." "So we all go to the Resupply," the Scout repeated to make sure he got it right before looking over to the Medic. "Do you want us to take you with us or do you want to stay here?" A nod from both the Medic and the Engineer, the Texan rising from his seat. "Well, kinda need both Doc's an' my clearance codes t'access what we need, so..." "I vill be coming eizzer vay." Heavy nodded in understanding before he scooped the Medic back up in his arms in the least embarrassing position possible. While less than pleased to still need to be carried around, the doctor did not complain as he was hefted up to be cradled against the Russian's broad chest, simply glad that the man was willing to help as much as he did. It didn't take long for everyone to file out, the Engineer locking his workshop behind him 'just in case' before heading for the Resupply. Of course, with near half the team running about like their asses were on fire, it didn't take long for the rest to notice. Passing by the common room, the Sniper fell in step with the group, the Pyro not far behind. "So. Anybody gonna explain?" Scout was the one who had to give them a summarized explanation. "Doc isn't feeling too well, and we've got no real explanation for it. Think it might have something to do with Respawn." "Respawn?" The marksman frowned, looking back over his shoulder to exchange a worried glance with the firebug, who had started twiddling his fingers in a nervous gesture. "Ja, Respawn. Zhere vas ein system update nicht too long ago, und, vell, I am being carried by Nikolai." When the group made it near the Resupply area, the Heavy put the Medic down so he could get a closer look at whatever it was he needed. Scout clenched his hands into fists, the only outward sign of his nervousness. "If that is why the Doc is not doing so hot... Does that mean there'll be something wrong with us too?" the Scout asked the Sniper. Before the sharpshooter could chance an answer, the Engineer interjected, pulling the keys from his overalls and handing one to the doctor. "It's a possibility, but we won't worry 'bout that until we've taken a look at things. I mean, nobody else's shown symptoms." He paused, looking back over the assembled team members. "Right?" The group looked like they were scrambling for anything that might be considered a symptom over the last couple of days. Scout paled but said nothing. As far as he was concerned he was fine. At least he hoped so... The Medic sighed, inserting his key into one of the two locks on either side of the narrow 'wooden' door. "I vill be giving everyone ein checkup. Only zhe Respawn vas updated, any symptoms vill be physical /only/." He elbowed the Engineer, who jumped a little then flushed slightly at having to be reminded, slipping his own key into the opposite lock. A short pause, the Texan counting down on his fingers, and the keys were turned simultaneously. A faint hiss, and the door popped out from the wall, splitting down the middle and sliding open to reveal its mechanical insides. The Engineer strode in first, leaving the Medic to confront the others. "Stay here. Zhere ist only so much space inside." With that, he turned, using the wall to support himself as he walked slowly after the Texan. Heavy stared in awe. While there was groundbreaking technology all around the base, he had never witnessed the workings of Respawn. Spy de-cloaked nearby the group and walked closer to see what the commotion was all about. It really was a narrow space, no wider than a closet and filled with a low, almost dangerous-sounding hum from the multitude of massive computer banks that lined the walls, all dull gray metal lit from overhead by a few strip fluorescents. A metal pillar stood in the middle of the space, about as wide across as the Scout and as tall as the Heavy, touching both the floor and ceiling. The Engineer took a third key from a lanyard around his neck, unlocking a panel in the middle of the pillar, revealing a standard numerical keypad before he stepped back. "You first, Doc." A nod from the Medic, who straightened himself as best he could, having nothing to support himself. His scarred fingers darted agilely over the keys, inputting a long string of numbers he had been forced to memorize when the Respawn system was built on base, the Engineer entering one of his own shortly after. The humming in the room heightened, and the pillar seemed to split in half, unfolding much like the door had to expose a large screen and accompanying keyboard. "Right, I got this, Doc." A moment to crack his knuckles, and the Texan's callused fingers fairly flew over the keyboard, his eyes focused on the screen and the commands he was inputting. "I take eet whatever has us all surrounding zhe room involves a Respawn scare?" the Spy asked the Pyro as he peered into the room. The firebug nodded, hidden eyes glued to the pair being silhouetted by the glowing green text swiftly consuming the blackness of the screen before them. Equally enthralled, the Sniper spoke up, his voice quiet so as not to interrupt the anxious stillness. "Doc's not feelin' good, an' he can't find anythin' actually wrong. Think it's somethin' t'do with some kinda update that happened a couple days ago." "I see... Zhen zhey ah trying to recover zhe data from zhe update?" the Spy asked in the same whisper. Scout just nodded, not really paying attention to the question. A shrug. "Far as I can tell, yeah." The screen had become something of a blur to those still standing out in the hall, flashing a number of graphs and some kind of humanoid diagram before filling with a progress bar as a loud buzzing came into existence. Before too long, both the Medic and the Engineer retreated from the room, a sheaf of papers in the doctor's grasp as the computer folded itself back into a pillar. Keys removed, the door slid closed, and the inner workings of the Respawn system were hidden once more. The crowd dispersed to let the Medic and the Engineer through. There was still a feeling of anxiety within the group, as they waited for the Medic or the Engineer to tell them what to do in this situation. A nod from the Texan, and the doctor spoke up. "I vill look over zhese records und look for any alterations. Zhe checkups vill be ins zhe morgen, und I vill be calling each team member individually. Until zhen, ve vill assume zhat zhere hast been no change, und everyone should resume life as usual. Now shoo!" There was a moment of hesitation but the group started to disperse leaving just Heavy and Scout with the Medic and Engineer. Scout stared at the floor not ready to say anything. "Do you need assistance Doktor or do you want us to leave as well?" "Holler if y'need anythin', Doc, m'just down the way." A small nod from the doctor, and the Texan went on his way, the keys back in his possession. The Medic managed to keep himself together until the others had gone, exhaling a shaking sigh as he leaned back against the wall, his face pale. "I believe zhe ibuprofen ist vearing off..." "Scout, you go get medicine. I will bring Doktor back to his room," the Heavy ordered the smaller man. Scout did as he was told with little argument. It wasn't quite so bad as before, none of that sharp, jolting pain, but it had been replaced by an intense ache that made his whole abdomen clench and it was /far/ from comfortable. The German was infinitely glad his Russian teammate was so much bigger than himself, allowing him to curl up against the other man's broad chest in an attempt to ease the discomfort. It didn't work, but the position was therapeutic anyway, and he did not move from it even as they entered his room. "I hate zhis..." "I know, Doktor. We find out what is wrong, will be over soon," the Heavy said in a hushed voice. "Scout will come with medicine soon." "I just vish I knew vhat vas wrong in zhe first place..." The Medic heaved a tired sigh, gaze falling to the papers he held clutched to his chest. He was always intimidated by the data storage area; So much advanced technology and power crammed into such a small space... Just thinking about it made him shiver. "Do you need anything else besides pain killers?" the Heavy asked. "Some coffee to keep you awake?" The doctor shook his head. "Nein. Zhere ist enough caffeine in zhe pain killers to keep me avake. Besides, I do nicht like coffee." He managed a soft chuckle. "Ist vhy I drink it vith sehr much cream." Nikolai just nodded and returned the smile. He didn't want to make the doctor panic, but he was worried about the welfare of the poor Medic. In truth, the German was already near panic, concern for both himself and his teammates combined with the sharpening ache in his lower belly pushing his mind into overdrive. Broken bones, he could deal with. Ruptured organs, head trauma, missing limbs, it was all part of the job as a physician. But when one was dealing with technology that could bring a person back from the dead... Well, it was enough to have anyone spooked. "V-Vhere ist zhe Scout...?" "Right heah..." The young man answered from the doorway. "I was just getting the pills like Heavy asked," the Bostonian answered before handing him the medication. A small smile, and the Medic took the pill bottle, letting the papers lie in his lap as he shook out two of the white pills and swallowed them dry. "Dankeschon. Bozh of you. I- I do nicht know vhat I vould have done vizhout dein help..." "Well it's no problem. I mean... Again, you've helped us out a lot," the Scout said with his face creeping in a blush. Heavy started to shrug and say. "Iz no big deal." "Still, I appreciate it-!" He broke off with a soft gasp, his expression twisting in pain as he hunched over, papers forgotten as he clutched at his stomach. So much for 'just an ache'. Damn it, the ibuprofen was wearing off faster than the new dose could kick in-! "Doktor!" "Doc!" It took a long moment before the Medic could pull himself together, inhaling a shuddering breath. "Schtupid medicine..." He forced himself to sit up, wincing as the muscles clenched and pulled, managing to free a hand to get the papers off his lap before he could crush them, handing them over to the Scout. "Put zhese on mein desk." The Scout nodded and did as he was told, though he was terrified about the state of his teammate. Forcing himself to take deep breaths, the doctor struggled to keep himself calm, even as the pain grew and his fear with it. God, but it felt worse than getting gutted by a broken bottle-! By the time the runner returned, the German had curled himself into a tight ball, hugging his knees to his chest as he lay on his side on the bed. Scout had anticipated the panic, and started to curl up with him. "Don't be scared. We're right heah... If it hurts and ya need to scream then scream but don't suffer like this. Just let it out if ya have to." Heavy reaffirmed the Scout's support by holding one of the doctor's hands. "Da. We are here. Do not fear." Rather than reply, the Medic gripped on tight to the Heavy's hand, giving a soft whimper as he hid his face against his knees, curling up as much as his body would allow. The pain was intense, threading through his whole body and making every muscle clench as if trying to crush the agony out of existence. And it only got worse as the original dose of medication wore off, the supplementary taking its own sweet time about kicking in. The other two men said nothing while they gave him reassuring touches. Scout finally spoke up after a few minutes passed in a soft whisper. "It'll be alright. Just hang in there." "...hurts." The doctor's voice was very small, barely even audible, and was quick to slip into a thin whine. In the back of his mind, his only thought was being thankful no one else seemed to be having the troubles he was. At least the others were alright... "I know... but will be over soon," the Heavy said, still letting the other man squeeze his hand. A small, jerking nod, the Medic's grip tightening from a burst of pain. It would be another 20 minutes before the pain killers finally kicked in, at which point the doctor was utterly drained of energy, breaking into quiet sobs when he felt the pain begin to ebb. It took them another twenty minutes before the Scout and Heavy were able to get the Medic to sleep. Heavy whispered to the Scout. "You stay with him tonight, make sure he does not hurt himself. I will be in gurney." Scout nodded in affirmation before curling up beside the doctor.
Quincy having a flashback/nightmare. Part 12 --- "Hey, Quin? Y'ever wonder why folks don' like queers?" The question was voiced by a young man, his dark curly hair hidden under a gray newsboy cap. He kicked at the cracked sidewalk with his scuffed trainers, hands tucked into his pants pockets. "I dunno. Bro's always talkin bout how it's unnatural and all of that shit. Personally, as long as they mind their business, then I don't give a shit. No need to kill 'em." A younger version of Quincy answered with a goofy smile on his face. The other boy nodded, heaving a sigh as he looked up to his friend. "Yeah. I mean, they're still just people, just like everybody else..." "Why're you so worried about it anyway? Was it cause of the last beatdown in our neighborhood?" "Uh-huh. Y'know Bobby, my neighbor across the street? His brother got both legs broken cause somebody said they saw him kissin' a guy." "Whoa. You mean he was one of them? He doesn't look like the type to dress up and whatever," he asked still a little shocked at the prospect. "Man, I dunno! Somebody just /said/ he did an' a bunch'a people cornered him an' beat the shit outta him!" The younger boy bit down on his bottom lip, worrying the delicate skin between his teeth. "Bobby an' his sister are stayin' at our place now. Their folks are the hospital with his brother." "Damn... Sorry to hear that. Why are you looking so scared?" Quincy asked him noticing the worry on his face. "Well... What if they come t'my house? Wha- What if they come after Bobby again?" "They can't do that. You know it's against turf rules. It has to be on the streets. Besides, I'm sure if you asked, Bro would protect you." The dark haired boy shrugged, kicking at a soda can. "Yeah... Still scares the crap outta me, man. I mean, Ma's tough, but even she can't take on a whole gang..." Quincy stopped walking and grabbed both of his friend's arms. "I mean it... And even if Bro doesn't protect you, I will. I promise!" The younger boy stared up at his friend, his pale blue eyes wide in shock from the sudden motion, but he smiled upon hearing the promise. "Thanks." He laughed and let go of the boy. "Welcome. Besides I doubt you're really in danger. It ain't like you're one of 'em." The boy's smile wavered, and he gave a somewhat strained chuckle. "Y-Yeah..." Quincy stopped again in mid step to turn around and face his friend. "You still nervous buddy? Geez you better learn to relax before you go crazy oah somethin'." "Y-Yeah, I know..." For a moment, the boy didn't move, gaze focused on the toes of his trainers. "Quin...? Wha-What would y'say if I said I thought I was- I-" "Hm?" the young man hummed as he took a good look at his friend. "You were what?" "WhatifIwasgay?" It came out all in a rush, the words blurred together into one breathless sentence and ending with the dark-haired boy pale in the face and more than a little scared. Quincy recoiled at the rushed sentence, almost as if the other boy was hexing him. "You mean...what if...right?" "Duh! Course I mean what if, but Bobby's bro got the shit kicked outta him for a what if an' I don' wanna get the shit kicked outta me cause somebody thinks-!" He broke off, biting down hard on his lower lip. "I don' w-wanna end up in the hospital..." Quincy sighed before he paced around the alley way. After a few minutes he came up with a conclusion. "I guess, while that might be totally out there... You're still you so... I guess it isn't half bad. I mean you still act like a man so..." the young man was still rambling. The dark-haired boy took a deep breath, swiping off his cap and running a hand through his tangled curls before slapping the hat back on again. "Quin, dude, Bobby's brother's a fuckin' football player. He's manly as fuck an' he still got the shit kicked outta him." Finally seeming to un-stick himself from that singular patch of sidewalk, he strode up to his friend, pretending his knees hadn't been knocking two seconds ago as he nudged the older boy with his elbow. "Sides, can only ever be yourself, right?" He ignored the slight pink that crawled up his cheeks. "I guess you're right. So, in this case, I think I'd let it slide. If you were." For the first time since the conversation had started, the boy smiled, exhaling a relieved sigh. "Cool." "What about you?" the more agile of the two asked as he stood up straighter."If the situation were reversed...Would you?" "Heck yeah! I mean, y'already said y'would for me, so it's only right, yeah?" That was a quick decision. The future Scout stayed uncharacteristically quiet for a few minutes before asking in a small whisper. "Are you?" A faltered step, a moment of quiet. "...Maybe." "Maybe?" he asked before giving him an inquisitive stare. "How can it be a maybe. Better yet. How do you know these things?" "Well... I dunno, man. I mean, I'm 14, I've never really thought about it, y'know? A-An' everyone in our neighborhood's all freakin' out about it, an'- I- I guess I'm just scared, I don' know..." The boy shrugged, kicking at a stray paper stuck to the sidewalk. "Never kissed anybody but my Ma, an' she don' count." "Well... Then... Do y'think that if ya kissed a guy, you'd know for sure?" Quincy asked in a hushed voice. A pause, the boy biting down on his lower lip before his shrugged. "Probably..." "Well...then we got no choice but to give ourselves some sort of queeah test then," he huddled near his friend and said. "We'll kiss one time. Just one. Then we nevah talk about it to anyone whether we're queeah or not." A moment of thought, and the boy nodded, answering back in equally hushed tones. "Not in the middle o' the street, though. Like, some place private, yeah?" "How bout my room? No one ever really goes in theah," he answered with a sheepish grin. "I keep it too messy for the othas to stand really." "Fine with me. Too many people at my house with, y'know, Bobby." "Got it." he answered with a small smile. The two boys started heading back to Quincy's house. It wasn't too far, they'd been heading that way anyways, and with some cursory greetings to Quincy's mom as they ran by the kitchen, they bolted into the elder boy's room. The two teenagers made it inside the room before Quincy shut the door. He felt his heart pounding. Was he really gonna do this? "Guess now is the time to chicken out." "Y-Yeah... Y'still wanna do this 'r...?" The younger boy was obviously nervous, shifting his weight from foot to foot and twisting his hat in his hands, not particularly caring about his messy hair. Quincy gulped and nodded. While it was a risky thing they were doing... At least they would know. He closed his eyes and started to pucker up like he had seen on his mother's old soaps. The dark-haired boy made a face. "You look like a fish, man." He sighed, tucking his hat into his pocket as he stepped up to the other youth. "Damnit, hope Bobby wasn' lyin' t'me..." Small callused hands reached up, cupping Quincy's face, and the younger boy steeled himself before getting up on his tip toes and smashing their lips together. The young man's first impression of the kiss was that it was wet and slimy. Once he got those initial thoughts out of the way, he eased into the kiss, not necessarily fighting it. A moment of a similar impression, but then he tilted his head just so, and- Hey, this was actually kind of nice... Being the shorter of the two of them, it was hard to stay in that nice spot, but shifting his hands to support himself on the taller boy's hips instead of his face worked well enough. Quincy was too involved in the kiss to realize that the door he had shut did not shut all the way, left slightly opened a crack, revealing a much older and dangerous man on the other side. His jaw dropped, and his fists were clenched. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO MY BROTHER, YOU SICK FREAK?!" As if electrocuted, the dark-haired boy lurched away from his friend, eyes wide and face pale. He was obviously terrified, shaking like a leaf as he looked for some kind of escape. "Out the fuckin' window!" Quincy screamed at his friend before he tried to hold off his brother. Of course, only being sixteen at the time with his brother in his twenties, he was little match for him. "Don't you fuckin' touch him alright! It was my fault!" The man wasn't hearing it as he tossed his younger brother aside which in turn slammed Quincy against the wall. The much smaller 14-year-old ran for the window as fast as he could manage, nearly tripping over his own feet and dropping his hat as he bolted. Struggling to get the window open, he turned at hearing that hard THUD, eyes going saucer-wide at seeing his best friend crumpled against the wall like a broken rag doll. "Quin!" Quincy was wheezing while the oldest of the three grabbed the young boy by the collar and lifted him up the ground. Easily heaved off the ground, the dark-haired boy choked, small hands scrabbling in a futile attempt to try and remove the hand around his neck. He barely managed a terrified squeak before the first punch hit, heavy knuckles slamming into his somewhat-beaky nose with a sickening crack. Already scared out of his mind, the addition of a broken and bleeding nose was more than enough to have the youth in tears, sneakered feet kicking out weakly before the second strike slammed into his eye. Two more strikes, the other eye and his temple, and the boy just hung there like someone's dirty laundry, wheezing as he tried to breathe and cry at the same time. "Danny!" Shouted the boy in alarm as he crawled over to the dropped body of the other teen. Quincy cradled his friend in his arms and started muttering, "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry..." The young man didn't care that his brother was struggling to get his belt off his pants. All he could do was apologize to his friend over and over. In the realm of reality, the sleeping Scout had tears in his eyes as he repeated the mantra of apologies. "I'm sorry..." Sleeping fitfully himself, the Medic wondered a moment why he was awake when he felt a pair of slim arms tighten their grip around his chest, causing him to shift and look down at those sun-tanned hands gripping his shirt before peering blearily back over his shoulder. It was hard to see in the half-dark, but there was enough light to catch the tears, and he reacted on instinct, rolling himself onto his back and looping an arm around the Scout's shoulders. "Shhh, Quincy, shhh, es ist ein traume, Quincy, es ist nur ein schlechter traume..." The German's voice seemed to be enough to stir the young man from a deep sleep into a waking dream. All he could still do was cry harder at the memory. "I'm sorry, Danny." The doctor sighed, shifting himself around onto his side to face the Scout and pull the younger man into a gentle embrace, a hand moving to rub across the boy's shoulder. "Shhh... Ich bin Hanne, nicht Danny..." As moments passed, the Scout was able to pull himself together. When he realized the situation he was in, he turned red as a tomato and started pulling back. Not quite all the way awake, the Medic frowned at feeling the other pull away, his grip tightening a moment before he forced himself to relax, not wanting to harm the runner. Eyes barely half-open, the doctor reached up, gently brushing his fingers over the boy's cheek. "Ahr you feelingk besser...?" This served to make the Scout's heartbeat increase in pace. "Uh... yeah... I..." Then he got a good look at the Medic's eyes. "They're the same shade of blue..." A discordant blink, the German's brow furrowing in a confused manner. "Was ist zhe zame schade auf blau?" The hand on the runner's cheek lifted, palm pressing to the boy's forehead. "Ahr you zick...?" He shook his head and said, "No... I just remembered something." The Scout did not move away from the touch as he continued. "Your eyes are the same as an old friend o' mines." "Mmm, ist zhat so?" The doctor reached up to touch his own face, stiffening a moment at feeling the strong angular bone structure than still caught him off guard sometiems after so many years. "Zhey ahr actually lighter zhen zhey vere vhen I vas younger. Ein, ah, gift auf sorts from zhe surgeons, I suppose..." He trailed off into a yawn, hand dropping to cover his mouth. Surgeons? The Scout was too tired to ask about it so he just yawned and tried to close his eyes. "Good night. Thanks for waking me up." "Mmm, kein problem..." The doctor yawned again, then sighed as he settled back into the bed. "Guten nacht, mein freund." A moment of fumbling found the edge of a blanket, and a bit of tugging had it pulled over the two of them, the Medic shifting to snuggle closer to the young runner. Before the Scout knew it, he was buried in the Medic's embrace the moment he fell back asleep.
Part 13 --- Morning, when it came, was surprisingly quiet, much calmer than the previous several days as the weekend allowed the team to sleep in an extra hour. Something everyone needed after the tension with the Respawn system. Curled up in bed with the Soldier, the Sniper yawned, squirming a bit to snuggle closer to the snoozing infantryman. Soldier grunted in his sleep at the sudden closeness but refused to wake up. He really didn't want to have to think of the Respawn Dilemma or even what was going on between the two bases. He just wanted this moment to last longer. No sir, he was not awake. It was something the marksman wholeheartedly agreed on, perfectly content to simply bask in the warmth of his partner and pretend there wasn't going to be checkups after breakfast. He yawned again, mumbling incoherently under his breath as he nuzzled his face against the other's collarbone before letting out another yawn. "...muhrnin..." All the Soldier did was let out a small grunt to let the other man know that he was half paying attention. "We dun' hafta get up yet, do we?" Yet another yawn, this one finally getting covered by a hand as the Australian shifted to press his body closer to his lover. The one big issue with being an outdoorsman; One's internal clock was strict and very much not inclined to sleeping in. The Soldier opened an eye and said. "We have the option of skipping breakfast to sleep in or get up on time and having breakfast. Take your pick." "Mmm, can make breakkie 'rselves..." The Sniper rubbed a hand over his eyes, scrubbing away sleep sand. "Sides, Saturday, ain' it?" He nodded. "Yeah, but we still got that checkup to get to." The Soldier frowned. He hated those things. A short pause, and the marksman groaned. "Aw, bloody hell, y're right." He gave a soft sigh, letting his eyes open and stare up at the ceiling. "...Y'think Doc's okay?" "Don't know," the Soldier answered, "With Heavy waiting on him hand and foot, he'll be alright." "Mmm, good point. But... What if there really is sommat wrong with Respawn?" For all that he tried to hide it, the Medic had /not/ looked well, and both Scout and Engie had been awful concerned, not just Heavy. "Then maybe they can find a way to fix it. Engie and Medic are smart. They can handle it," he said with a yawn as he sat up. "Yeah..." The Sniper pushed himself up onto his elbow, lifting a hand to rest his head on. "Just kinda spooked me, is all. I mean, that system is what keeps us all from kickin' the bucket f'good. Shite gets messed up..." He frowned, looking up to the infantryman. "Y're okay, right?" He gave himself a quick look over and nodded. "Affirmative. I seem to be in top shape. You?" A nod, the marksman's thumb idly stroking up over his cheekbone to thumb at his nose. "Aye. Haven' been feelin' any differen'r nothin' so..." He shrugged, finally shifting to sit up. Long arms extended in a luxurious stretch, spine popping before the sharpshooter draped his lanky frame over the Soldier's shoulders. The Soldier just smiled before giving the Sniper a small peck on the cheek. "I guess we have to get up." "Mmm, don' /have/ to..." The Australian smirked, a brow quirking meaningfully as he looked up at the infantryman. Soldier gave a coy grin before leaning forward to capture the Sniper in a kiss. The door slammed open to reveal the Spy. "Zhe Docteur wishes all of us to eat before zhe exam, and breakfast ez getting cold." The frustrated Soldier grabbed a random boot, throwing it in the direction of the intruding frog. "Damnit Spook!" The boot's partner was grabbed, the marksman hucking it shortly after the infantryman's throw. "Fuckin' KNOCK!" Spy managed to dodge both attacks. "But eef I were to knock you would not answer. At least zhis way I got you to listen. Now 'urry up." The Sniper could only manage a frustrated growl, unable to argue against the Frenchman's logic. It was bad enough when the enemy Spy decided to pop in unannounced! Soldier just let out a snort and started to stand up to get changed into his normal clothes. "Fine, now get out of here, already!" Spy nodded and closed the door behind him. Grumbling irritably under his breath, the marksman found and threw one last boot to make sure the Frenchman was gone before getting up to dress himself. Before long, both of them were decent, though the Australian was missing his boots, having been chucked at the Spy, but it was easy enough to go out and get them when the duo stepped out to head to breakfast. The Pyro was already there, humming as he cooked up breakfast. The Engineer was there as well, looking like he really hadn't slept well and looking over a blueprint that had a mug of coffee holding down each corner. Scout stepped into the room moments after the Sniper and Soldier did, looking a little more well rested than he did before. "Morning," the Soldier greeted. "Where's Medic and Heavy?" "They're on their way." Thankfully, the doctor had managed to properly time a supplemental dose of pain killers, allowing him to go about his morning in an almost normal fashion, though he was careful not to strain himself. He was dressed by the time the Heavy came by to check on him, and offered a cursory greeting before looking over the charts like he had been unable to the night before. It was only after this was done that the Medic started for breakfast, equal parts optimistic and grim. Stepping into the dining/common room, he nodded to the weary Engineer and took a seat next to the man. "Guten morgen." With the whole troop in the room, the group started to go about breakfast as normal as they could. Scout still felt a little nauseous about the whole thing as well as Heavy. Though he did his best to hide it, the Medic was more than a little anxious himself. The information revealed by the chart comparison was something he was loathe to reveal to the team on the whole, knowing it required him to reveal much more about himself than he was comfortable with. With some light conversation and some stalling by the Soldier, who wanted seconds, eventually enough time passed for breakfast to be over. Checkups were starting soon. The doctor stalled a bit himself, thought not quite so obviously as the Soldier, forcing himself to finish his whole plate and taking his own sweet time about it. Still, he was done before pretty much everyone but the Scout and the Heavy, and took his dishes to the sink before retreating to his Infirmary to prepare. It didn't take long to get ready, and he finally pinned up the charts to the lightboard normally reserved for X-rays, frowning at the alterations shown in stark black and white. The men filed outside of the hallway, as the good doctor made the last of his preparations. Now it was a waiting game. They stood in anticipation waiting for a class name. Like every other check up before, the Medic called each team member in alphabetically by class, starting with the Demoman, who passed out half way through the physical and had to be lugged out by the Heavy. Not unusual, but still annoying. After that, everything went off without a hitch; Usual questions, usual tests. The only difference was the doctor's anxiety, which only grew as each team member came and went. "Y'kay, Doc?" The Medic simply nodded to the Sniper's question, more focused on checking the Australian's charts. "I am fine, Herr. As are you. Bitte, get dressed und send in zhe Soldier." Soldier walked in the room looking nervous enough for the both of them. Outside his relationship with the Sniper, the Soldier was a very private man, and found the checkups to be invasive. The doctor sighed, gesturing politely to the gurney. "Soldier, zhis ist only ein checkup, just like every ozzer checkup before. Zhere ist no need to vorry so." "Look Doc. I will tell you this like I told you last time. No funny business" Another sigh. "Herr, I am ein professional. Zhere has been und never vill be any 'funny business', as you call it." The Medic rubbed a hand over his eyes, straightening his glasses. He felt something pull, and winced. Damn it, the ibuprofen was starting to wear off. Thank goodness the Soldier and the Spy were all that were left. "Bitte, disrobe und sit on zhe gurney." The Soldier did as he was told, though he was a little hesitant on the disrobing part. Sniper laughed at his shyness when it came to physicals on occasion but he had his reasons. The infantryman waited for his next orders. Struggling to keep himself composed and professional as the painkillers wore off, the doctor moving as swiftly as he could manage for both his and the Soldier's benefit. Height, weight, heart and lungs- Basic, but essential, just in case the Respawn really had messed things around. Thankfully, nothing came up, and the Medic shooed the infantryman out with a clean bill of health. Of course, he had expected no less. The Soldier's charts had checked out, and the Sniper would have said something if he noticed something wrong. "Alright, Spy, it ist your turn." Spy walked in the room, not exactly thrilled about the aspect of getting the examination done, but it was something that could not be put on hold. He took note of the Doctor's stress and decided it would be both in their best interests if they did this quickly. It was pretty obvious the Medic was very much not doing well, his features pale and his expression strained as he tried desperately to keep himself together. He would have gone for the ibuprofen, but he'd been using it so much he feared an overdose if he had anymore, and what good would he be then? So, he took a deep breath, grit his teeth, and did his level best to ignore the mounting pain. "Allo. Bitte, disrobe und sit on zhe gurney. Zhis von't take long." It did not take the Frenchman long to disrobe and sit on the gurney, though he could tell something was off about the doctor. "Docteur, ez somezhing ze matter?" The doctor shook his head, avoiding eye contact by focusing on the clipboard in his hand, frowning slightly when he noticed it trembling. "It ist nozhing, I vill be fine." "Alright," his voice trailed off when he saw the x-ray board covered in schematics from the Respawn, mainly the Medic's and the Scout's. He frowned and logged the information away for later. Thankful that the Spy hadn't attempted to press the issue, the Medic pulled his stethoscope from around his neck, intending to start with something that didn't require him having to walk around too much. It turned out that 'too much' was just one step in the wrong direction. Before he even fully realized what was happening, the German's knees buckled and he collapsed. Spy barely managed to jump off the gurney quick enough to catch him. Not really caring that he was in an unclothed state, he shouted out to the team in the hall. "I need assistance!" Though not unconscious, the doctor might as well have been for all that he could perceive of the outside world. The pain had hit so hard and so fast it left him stunned in the backlash, gasping for air and struggling desperately for purchase. One hand found a skinny arm and gripped on tight as the Infirmary doors burst open, letting in the flood of battle-ready team mates. Having seen the Medic out on the field before, Spy could tell the man was bearing a pained expression. But he had no idea of how he would fix the problem outside of possibly knocking the man unconscious. So he asked as the others started to come, "Squeeze once for yes et two for no. Do you want me to knock you out for zhe moment?" Unable to properly understand words through the haze of agony, the German could only voice a thin whimper, grip tightening in terror as tears came to those pale eyes. He had no choice. "Desole." Spy pinched a thin nerve on the back of the Medic's neck that put enough of a shock to his system to make him unconscious. The doctor went limp without another sound, hand falling loose as his eyes went wide for a split-second before drifting closed. "What the hell did you do that you stupid frog!" Scout shouted when he saw what happened. "Calm yourself boy, zhe docteur was in intolerable pain. Eet was zhe only option I could come up wiz." The Pyro wasn't far behind the runner, but he skidded to a halt at seeing the Frenchman crouched naked on the floor, a gloved hand slapping over the lenses of his mask as he did a prompt about face. "SPY! CLOTHES!" Realizing the state he was in, he focused himself away from the Medic long enough to get dressed again. "Eet ez not like you never seen me before, Pyro. Remember zhat night a year and a half ago?" he teased. Scout growled and told the two to focus. A low grumble was all the reply the Spy would get, the firebug crossing his arms over his chest as he stood with his back to the Frenchman, both for his own benefit and to keep the rest of the team at bay. Of course, the stocky little firestarter was nothing to the Heavy. "How could this happen?!" "I zhink our docteur was zhe one who Respawn may have affected most. He was een enough pain zhat I had to get him to pass out." Stepping up from behind the big Russian, the Sniper just barely managed to catch the stumbling Pyro, his long arms put to good use preventing his teammate from crashing down face first on the Infirmary floor. "Whoa! Hang on a mo', how'd y'figure that out?" "I have been suspecting zhis for quite some time," the Spy answered. "I 'ave not gotten a close enough look at zhe records to verify it, but zhe good docteur 'as been acting zhe most strange out of all of us." Having straightened himself out, the Pyro nodded in reluctant agreement, still rather miffed about the mentioning of the 'incident'. Damnit, but the Frenchman had promised not to talk about it! The marksman frowned, looking from the Medic passed out in a heap on the floor to the charts still pinned up on the lightbox. "These what y're lookin' for?" "Zhose are zhe ones," he answered as he walked over to retrieve said charts. Heavy was ignoring the conversation for the most part, trying to get the Medic someplace where he could rest. While the doctor was collected off the floor, nothing more than a limp rag doll in the Russian's grasp, the Engineer made his presence known with an irritated snort, stepping up to cut off the Spy. "An' who said you had any right t'that information?" As much as he knew the Frenchman likely had good intentions, he wasn't about to put such delicate information into the hands of a man whose job was about as honest as a politician's salary. "I only am gazzering zhe information on zhe behalf of our ally. To see if zhere was anyzhing we can do to help zhe man. While I am a gossip on a small scale, I know better zhan to cripple an ally." The Texan's frown only deepened, arms crossing stubbornly over his barrel-chest. A sigh, and the Sniper stepped up, swiping off his hat and running a hand through his scruffy hair. "C'mon, Engie, he's tryin'a help. The doc's in a bad way, an' unless you know how t'read that stuff..." He shrugged, replacing his hat. The Engineer frowned even deeper, but a thin line of color crossed his cheeks and he finally sighed. "Fine. But if I find out y'did anythin' untoward with those charts..." Gloved fingers found the heavy wrench tucked in his toolbelt. The Spy did nothing but nod before he took a good look at the charts. Once reading the data, the Spy did his damndest to make sure he was as expressionless as possible. However, given what he discovered he couldn't help but mutter a soft "Sacre bleu..." Standing grumpily off to one side, the Engineer tried to be subtle as he leaned forward to get a better look at the papers in the Frenchman's hands. Okay, so he hadn't been trained on how to decipher the damn things like the doctor, but even he could see there were some pretty stark differences in those thin bars. He heard that soft exclamation, and nudged the Spy with his elbow. "What is it?" "You would not begin to believe me if I told you," he answered, in the most sincere way he could. "Zhat being said, I think we should wait for zhe doctor to wake up before I say anyzhing." As if on cue, there was a sharp scream, the effects of the Spy's knock-out pinch shortened considerably by the intensity of the pain being experienced. The Medic lurched up, gasping for air like a drowning person as he scrambled to find something, anything to hang on to. Unfortunately the closest thing that the German could hold on to was the Scout's t-shirt, which scared the living crap out of him and Heavy as he was being pulled down to his level. Thinking quick, Heavy was already searching for any sort of strong painkiller. The Sniper just about jumped out of his own skin, giving a startled yelp of his own as he leapt into the Soldier's arms, eyes wide behind his aviators. The Pyro reacted in a similar manner, jumping and jerking around, though he didn't manage to keep his balance long and tripped back onto his bottom. The Engineer stiffened, shoulders hopping up around his ears. Unaware of the commotion he'd caused, the German clung on tight to the young runner, a stream of incomprehensible mumbling intermingled with the occasional sob or pained whimper spilling from his mouth as he hid his face in the Scout's shirt, his whole body shaking from the combination of pain and fear. Soldier was strong enough to carry the Sniper's weight but even he stumbled around with the sudden shock. Scout tried to get it together long enough to soothe the poor man while Heavy opted for the strongest painkiller they had short of putting the German under an anesthetic. Barely coherent, the doctor went totally stiff at hearing the faint, distinctive 'pop' of a hypodermic's cap being removed, eyes going wide behind his glasses as he struggled to breathe. His gloved hands tightened their grip on the runner, the latex squeaking. The Heavy's kindly intentions were lost on the panicking German, the Medic sensing only the massive hand that curled firmly around his arm, and he promptly burst into tears, struggling weakly against the Russian's grip as every motion sent new pain coursing through his body. Feeling the needle puncture his skin, the doctor fell limp, whimpering pathetically as he leaned against the Scout. All Scout could do was lightly brush through the Medic's hair with his fingertips to get him to calm down as he was letting the morphine do its work. After Heavy finished the task he placed a band-aid where he had given the doctor a shot. The rest of the group was in silence. Was this really what they were seeing? It didn't take too terribly long for the opiate-derivative medication to kick in, and it showed, the Medic's terrified grip on the Scout's shirt loosening as he leaned a bit more on the young runner. After a few moments of increasingly calming breaths, the doctor sighed. "...Zhe ibuprofen vore off." After a few more moments of silence, Spy cleared his throat and said, "Zhat was more pain zhan zhe over zhe counter medication could handle." A soft snort. "Obviously." The Medic slowly shifted himself into a seated position, reluctant to move away from the Scout's comforting warmth but knowing he needed to pull himself together. He quickly swiped a hand over his eyes, clearing his vision and freezing upon realizing that the whole team was there. And from their expressions, they'd seen the whole episode that had just taken place. Heavy sighed and sat down on a stool beside the gurney. "Doktor. We are running out of options. We should tell truth to team. I think they understand." Having climbed down from his lover's arms, the Sniper cleared his throat. "Heavy's right, mate. Whatever's goin' on, it's focused on you." A nod from the Pyro, who turned to the Engineer. The Texan gave a nod of his own, expression stern. "Can already figure it's somethin' t'do with the Respawn, an' Spy ain't talkin' 'til you do. Might as well spill." As the others spoke, the Medic cringed, shifting to pull his knees to his chest, his eyes focusing on the toes of his boots. He was actually glad for the morphine now, not just because of the pain being treated but of the drug's calming effect. If it weren't for the opiate's interference, he was pretty sure he would be having a panic attack by now. "...Do I have to?" It was Scout's turn to say something. "Doc, you were freakin' out and in the worst pain imaginable just minutes ago. What's it gonna take? You dying permanently?" A long sigh, the doctor's pale eyes falling closed as he hugged his knees to his chest. "...Alright." It took almost an hour, the Medic's voice soft and sad as he revealed his darkest secret to the people he cared about the most, how one bad decision and a jealous man had irreversibly changed his life, the schooling he had devoted himself to in an attempt to correct the wrongs done to him and the eventuality of his being ousted and shunned for something he had no choice in, and how he found not just employment but safety in the form of a mysterious letter. He finally ended with the most current events, and what the charts had revealed. "Zhe Respawn update forcibly altered mein base genetic coding, attempting to make in reality was I am on paper." There was nothing but silence in the room. The story in and of itself was the most tragic, yet unbelievable thing they had ever heard. The Sniper actually had tears in his eyes, and sat on the floor huddled as close to the Soldier as he could get. To think that his own relationship with the infantryman could have ended up with something that awful being done to either of them- It was terrifying. The Engineer had found himself a stool at one point, but had to leave halfway through the retelling of the surgery so he could go be sick in the bathroom. He had returned eventually, and currently sat atop that stool, pale-faced. Soldier still held on to the Sniper, not wanting to think that could have happened to them. Spy subtly dabbed his eyes with a handkerchief. Heavy already knew the story, but still felt sorry for the poor Medic. And then there was Scout, who could kind of understand on a small scale what the Medic went through. The story itself was enough to make him visibly numb. It was the Pyro who finally broke the stillness, heaving himself to his feet and stumbling the short distance from his seat on the floor to the Medic on the gurney, grabbing the doctor in a hug before audibly bursting into tears. The doctor stiffened at first, not expecting the motion, but relaxed after a moment to gently return the hug. Heavy sniffed, also willing to pull the two in a big bearhug. Scout hesitantly followed suit. It didn't take much prompting for everyone else to join in on the group hug, not a dry eye between them. After a moment or two, the Medic spoke up. "Ah, ist it just me, or ist zhis sort of awkvard?" The Demoman gave an amused snort. Spy moved away from the hug pretending that it did not just happen. "For God's sake we are grown me- Ah... I seem to be in a pickle. Tell me Doctor, how should we address you?" A soft chuckle, the German finally managing a smile after the whole affair that had just taken place. "I have been answering to zhe male pronouns for almost zhirty years, zhat hast nicht changed in zhe last hour." His smile thinned, anxiety slipping in along the edges of his mind. With the way the Respawn update was affecting him, it was the only one he was ever going to respond to, with no evidence to the contrary outside his own memories. A terrifying, but also oddly exciting idea. Sensing the Medic's fear, Scout patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Like I said before, we're all like some kinda messed up family. We'll be there. Right guys?" Straightening, the Sniper nodded, scrubbing a hand across his eyes. Beside him, the Pyro sniffled and voiced an affirmative mumble before wandering off to the bathroom to drain the tears from his gasmask. Soldier gave the Sniper a quick squeeze before mumbling out an, "Affirmative. So Doc, what do we need to do to fix this?" The Medic sat up with a sigh, a hand lifting to push a few stray strands of hair from his face. "At zhe moment, zhere ist nicht much to really do. I vill eizzer adapt or..." He trailed off, not wanting to voice the other alternative. "No, you gotta adapt, that's all there is to it." Scout said seriously, not even wanting to think of the Medic dying for good. Heavy then asked the German, "How long do you think pain will last?" "Until zhe next battle und I am killed." Behind him, the Engineer grimaced, catching on to what the doctor meant. "Geezus Doc..." "So after that you'll come back completely like in the printouts?" Scout asked, not grasping the subtlety of what the Medic was saying. A small nod. "Zhat ist zhe zheory, ja..." "An' in the meantime that damn chip's tryin'a match things up." The Engineer scowled, arms crossed over his chest. "So if we are going on zhe zheory zhat Respawn is trying to match us into generalized data, would zhat not mean eet should be happening to all of us at some point? Eet might not be as dramatic as zhe Medic but..." Scout widened his eyes and started to stop Spy in his tracks. "Wait a minute. If that's the case then that thing is trying to keep me at seventeen!" A gruff snort from the Texan. "Spah's not wrong, I'm afraid. Respawn runs off that first initial physical, bring ya back t'that level every time it rebuilds ya. The updates're supposed t'simulate y're growth, but-" "Zhe company prefers to keep its employees at zheir peak." Taking this as bad news, the Scout mumbled a 'fuck'. A clock chime resounded throughout the room. It was already 9, the late morning and check ups having eaten up the day. Soldier cleared his throat and said, "We've had a long day. Nothing to do now but get some rest..." The Sniper nodded, straightening his hat. "Aye, Solly's right. No point in worryin' 'rselves t'death." "Now would be a good time for me to check on mon ami, excuse moi." Spy walked out of the room and headed toward the restroom to check on his friend. A nod, and the Medic moved to get to his feet. "I agree. Zhere ist ein battle tomorrow, und vith any luck, zhe matter vill be settled." One by one each team member had an a reason to leave the infirmary leaving only the Scout, Heavy and Medic in the room. Heavy exhaled and said, "I weel find gurney to sleep. Just in case of pain." The doctor managed a small smile, a hand on the gurney to keep himself upright as he shuffled off to his roof. "Danke..." Scout offered to assist the Medic to his room, not knowing what exactly to do in light of the information. "You need help?" "Bitte." With the runner's help, the German was soon seated on his bed. He exhaled a long sigh, not even trying to get undressed as he flopped over into his pillow. "Vith any luck, zhe morphine vill last zhe night..." Quincy nodded, still standing awkwardly like he needed to say something to the poor man. After a few minutes he was finally able to spit it out. "I know your body's gonna change and all that. And that's okay... But don't ever completely change, alright, Hanne?" For a split second, the Medic went still, struggling to remember when he had given his name before recalling the Scout's nightmare, and let out a soft sigh. "I vill alvays be who I am, Quincy. Sex does nicht change zhat." "I guess not, but then again, I don't know how much Respawn will try t'change you so... I'm saying it anyway," he answered. That got a small smile, the doctor shifting to prop himself up on his elbows. "Zhank you, Quincy. You are ein gute person, do nicht let anyone tell you different." His face turned a light pink before he let out a small chuckle. "Well... I guess I should head back t'my room. Will you be alright?" "I suppose. Zhough..." He lay back, hands folding over his stomach. "If you vish to stay, I vould nicht mind." "S'long as I'm not a pain or anything," he answered before sitting on the corner of the bed. "We both get less nightmares this way at least." "Ja, zhat ist true..." The doctor toed off his boots, letting them thud down onto the floor as he reached up for his glasses. "It ist nice to be able to sleep vizhout remembering." He nodded while taking off his cleats. "Yeah... If we spend all the time remembering this stuff we'd never get any sleep. Better to keep it in the back of your mind where it belongs." Giving a small smile, the Medic set his glasses aside on the night table. "Zhe bad remembering, at least." Scout nodded while letting out a large yawn, while taking off his socks and baseball cap. It didn't take long before the two teammates were down to their shirtsleeves, and the doctor shifted himself over to make room for the runner, shuffling a blanket loose to cover them. He smiled sleepily at the Scout, watching the boy as he climbed into bed. "Guten nacht, mein freund." He climbed in the bed after the Medic before wrapping his arms around the thin doctor's frame as if it were a teddy bear. "Night." Giving a soft chuckle, the German was more than happy to return the embrace, letting his chin come to rest atop the boy's head. It didn't take long before they were both dead to the world, their slumber blissfully dreamless.
Part 14 --- "Mission begins in thirty seconds." The crotchety voice of the Announcer rang from the intercom system. Each member of BLU team assembled their weapons, and anticipated what they were going to do as soon as that gate opened. Having woken up to a steadily increasing ache, the Medic had reluctantly resigned himself to another dose of morphine to get through the morning. Though he hated having to depend on such powerful medication, it was pretty much the only thing keeping him from breaking down completely and his team needed him in at least semi-top form to carry out his duties. At the moment, he was busying himself checking on everyone and making sure they weren't experiencing any untoward symptoms as he over-healed them with the MediGun. So far, nothing had come up. "Three, two, one!" The doors unlocked and Scout ran as fast as his legs could carry him, ready to clear out his RED counterpart. The Pyro and the Sniper weren't far behind, the marksman darting off to find a good perch for the battle while the firebug immediately went off in search of any sneaky cloaked Spies along the perimeter. The Engineer ran off up to the Intel room, tool box in hand to set up a defensive nest with some help from the Demoman. The Medic kept pace with the Heavy, glad that the big Russian couldn't run so well carrying that giant gun of his. It kept him from straining himself. The large Russian had deliberately slowed down his pace for the Medic, hoping the doctor wouldn't know what he was doing. Already the enemy Sniper was aiming for the Medic. Of course, the German had been intending on getting himself killed as soon as possible, knowing that the morphine would wear off sooner rather than later. So it came as no surprise when he heard a sharp, echoing CRACK and everything went black. His body crumpled to the ground, a neat hole straight through his temple. Everyone else was too busy with the battle to really even notice what was going on, with the exception of Heavy, who panicked and rushed to come up with a different strategy. The technology behind Respawn was a simple thing in theory; record the physical data of the body and the electrical impulses of the mind and rebuild it. But even though the process itself was something of a no-brainer, the individual experience of it was something few spoke of. Of the rare reports, some mentioned seeing a empty blackness that never ended, others seeing lost loved ones or seeing flashes of something so wonderful they couldn't even describe it. All of them woke from reanimation in tears, and the Medic was no exception. He lurched up with a sharp cry, all but throwing himself out of the glass and steel tube, coughing on waste steam laced with amino acids and trace nitrogen as he stumbled out into the adjacent locker room, just barely catching himself on the door as it sealed closed behind him. Well, at least the pain was gone. Now, if he could stop dry-heaving, then things could get back to some kind of normalcy. Scout dodged several sticky bombs, not wanting to die when he was a few inches away from the finish line with the Intelligence. "Outta my fuckin' way!" he shouted, nearing the threshold. It took a good five minutes for the doctor to collect himself properly, and he was still feeling a bit woozy when he finally got himself dressed. Odd, his coat felt sort of snug across the chest... Oh, well, something to worry about later when they weren't in the middle of battle. MediPack slung over his shoulders and the gun in hand, he jogged out into the hall and just barely avoided the blur of the Scout, jumping back and tripping off the raised concrete pathway. The Scout managed to bring the intelligence over to the other side of the base, putting an end to the day's match. "Victory!" The team whooped and hollered, glad that they were winning for once. Scout laughed and grabbed the Medic in for a congratulatory hug until he noticed something wasn't right. "Uh, Doc. Is there a reason why you're softer than usual?" Blindsided by the runner's ecstatic embrace, the doctor barely managed to properly balance himself, catching the Scout and dropping his MediGun in the process. It took him a moment to register the question, and he was quite understandably confused. "Softer...?" What the-? Since when was his voice that high? Realization struck, and the Medic promptly slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide behind his glasses. The first reaction of the Scout was to let go and take a good look at what happened to the Medic. Somehow his features were less sharp, making him appear more elegant than handsome. "Holy Shit! Doc you're a chick!" Heavy and the Soldier stopped short at the explanation and gaped. "W-Was?!" Without thinking, the doctor promptly tore open his coat, gloved fingers fumbling with the buttons and very nearly ripping a few off before he could get the heavy canvas open. He- no, /she/ stared openly at the two soft mounds outlined by her shirt, nothing too outstanding but definitely noticeable. Abruptly realizing there were a large number of males standing around and quite openly gawking, the freshly minted lady went bright red and pulled her coat closed, arms crossing over her noticeably softer chest area. "I- I- I vill in zhe Infirmary." With that, the Medic fled, not even waiting for any kind of response. The group of men were silent, not really knowing what to say. The silence was broken after about five minutes when Scout suddenly cleared his throat and walked toward his own room without explanation, not that he needed one. Having missed out on the show, the Sniper came walking in from the battlefield, rifle in hand as he made to head into the Resupply to clean up. At seeing his teammates gawking at apparently empty space, he strode up beside the Soldier and stared with him a moment before asking. "What're we lookin' at?" Soldier flinched and answered with a red face. "Seem's Respawn did something else to the Doc that we didn't count on. Instead of turning her into a him it turned him into a her." A pause, and the marksman gave his partner an incredulous look. "Excuse me?" Before he could ask further, the Demoman came stumbling in from deeper in the base, a dopey smile on his face. "Bloodeh hell, did anybody else see that pretty lassie 'oo just locked 'erself up in the Infirmary?" "We saw." The rest of the men said in unison. Heavy let out a sigh and started heading over to the Infirmary. "I weel check on Doktor. Just go about business as normal." The Sniper sighed, shaking his head and moving to tug on the Soldier's arm. "A'right, mate, Solly an' I'll keep track o' the others." While the sharpshooter attempted to herd the rest of the team into the common room, the Medic stood alone in his- her, damn this was going to be hard to get used to- bathroom, stripped down to her socks and shirt, her hair hanging loose. It wasn't too incredibly different; She was still pretty straight up and down, but there was a certain roundness to her hips now and, of course, breasts, thankfully not huge or anything, but definitely noticeable. Her hair was longer now as well, no longer just skimming the tops of her shoulders but hanging in loose curls down to skim the bottom of her shoulder blades. And her eyes were darker, the soft gray she'd had as a child instead of the pale blue the surgeons had given her. How in the hell-? Her train of thought derailed at hearing a knock on the Infirmary door, her face going pale as she grabbed her shirt closed. "Go avay!" "Eet iz only me, Heavy," the large Russian said, not wanting the Medic to panic. "Eef you do not want me to come in ez fine, but I wanted to make sure you are alright." Heavy. Asexual, not-interested-in-women Heavy. A moment's thought, and the doctor was buttoning up her shirt and pulling her underwear and pants back on, scrambling to get the door. She opened it just enough to let the Russian inside, promptly closing and locking it the moment she was able. It was pretty obvious she was more than a little flustered, face pale as she tugged anxiously at the tails of her shirt. "I- I am scared." Heavy, having gotten over the initial shock of the event that had occurred had calmly replied, "I understand, was not what anyone thought would happen. But you are still Doktor and no one can change that, da?" "Ja, aber- but-" She swallowed hard, struggling to find the words she needed. "I vas ein Mann for almost zhirty years. I- I vas expecting-" To die a man. To die alone. To die and be forgotten. Quite abruptly, her knees felt much too weak to hold her upright, and she slumped back against the door, fighting to keep her breathing under control. The Russian was poised to catch the doctor, should she fall. "I know what you were expecting, but zhis ez not the case. This happened to Doktor for reason, so you must embrace it." She managed a small nod, knowing that her team mate's advice was very true. But how...? Thoughts running in circles, she wasn't even fully aware that she had started to cry until she felt her breath hitch, and she slid down to the floor, knees hugged to her chest. Damnit, but this was not what she had planned on! Thinking that words were not going to help the situation, all Heavy did was put his arms around her in hopes of comforting her. Hiccupping softly, she leaned into the big Russian's familiar warmth, a hand coming up to grab at his shirt. "I cannicht- I-" She managed to take a breath without it catching, summoning up the will to say the words she needed to be heard. "I look in zhe mirror, und I see zhe person I could have been. But nicht zhe person I am. Und I am terrified." "Doktor... I understand eet ez like seeing ghost but maybe ghost was always part of you," he suggested, still letting the woman cry on his shirt. "It ist ein ghost I put to rest vhen I vas nineteen und realized zhat I vould have to become ein doctor to even attempt to reverse vhat had been done to me, und zhat I vould never be able to dance again." She sat up, rubbing a hand across her eyes to try and banish the tears. "I gave up zhat dream und found anozzer as ein physician. Und now..." A soft sniffle. "Now I do nicht know vhat I am." "You are still Medic and credit to team!" the Russian boomed. "You care for us when we are sick and watch out for us when we are well. You are more than credit to team, whether man or woman." That finally got a bit of a smile, the doctor looking up to meet the Heavy's gaze. "Dankeschon, mein freund, I appreciate your confidence." She lifted a hand, running a few fingers through her hair to get it out of her face and making a mental note to trim it when she had a chance. "I can only hope zhe ozzers are as open-minded." With that, the Medic forced herself to her feet, pausing to give her teammate's shoulder a thankful squeeze before starting back towards the bathroom. Heavy nodded as he tried to get up from the floor. "Do you want me to stay or leave?" Pausing, the doctor turned to offer the Russian a hand up, mentally thanking whatever powers were at work that she was still strong enough to be helpful. "Wasever you vish, I do nicht mind." Stepping back, she moved to run a hand through her hair, and frowned at the length. "Actually, I could use dein help..." "What do you need me to help with?" the Heavy asked, more than willing to make sure the Medic had what she needed. "Ein few zhings, but for zhe moment, I vould like to cut mein hair." Why in the world it had gotten longer, she really hadn't the slightest clue, but it was more than a little annoying. And it was something she could actually remedy. Hair first, then maybe figure out something for a bra... One step at a time. The Heavy nodded, though he was not quite sure how to exactly cut hair. He had lived alone for quite sometime. "Alright. Tell me what you need me to do. I am never cutting hair before." A small smile. "Zhat ist fine, I do night need it to be perfect, just shorter." She retrieved a pair of scissors from her desk, idly straightening her glasses as she started towards the bathroom, pausing to grab a towel from one of the cabinets. The Heavy just followed and did as he was told during the process, not wanting to mess up a woman's hair. While the Medic busied herself in directing her teammate in the delicate motions required to trim a person's hair without catching that person's skin, the Pyro sat in the common room, slouched grumpily against the couch and fiddling with a small lighter, flicking the flame on and off in a meditative motion. Spy walked in the room to get a book that he had left behind before he had noticed the pouting Pyro. "Don't tell me you are steel upset about zhat." An irritated huff, the firebug snapping the lighter closed. "Corz 'M schtil upzet. Ar'n yu?" "Non... I find life eez too short to really be upset over somezhing so small," he sat on the other end of the couch not quite looking at the Pyro. "Yu promized, Spah. Yu promized yu'd nehvr bring dat up again!" The firestarter hunkered down further into his corner, refusing to make eye contact even with his mask. "Yu promized. An yu said yu nehvr mayk promizez yu can' keep." After a moment of silence the Spy widened his eyes in realization. While he was in a position to laugh about it, the Pyro was not. It was more serious to the firestarter than it was to him and he made too light of the situation. "You are right... I did not zhink. I suppose eet would only be fair eef I paid a penalty for eet." The Pyro shook his head, exhaling a tired-sounding sigh. "Nu... I knoo yu didn' meen anyfin by id." Out came the lighter again, flickering on and off. "Yur a Spah, I shooldnuv dun whud I did an ezpekted yu t'ztay quied." Spy frowned. Now it was his turn to feel hurt. "You know, Pyro, zhere are times when I do zhings because eet ez a spy's nature, and ozzer times eet ez because I am a person who tries to loosen up during downtime. Eet was not official business, so I deed not really zhink to take eet seriously. I zhought of it as a fun shared experience between friends." A shallow nod, the firestarter focused on that flickering flame. "I knoo. Schtil fun, buhd..." He sighed, sitting up and folding his hands in his lap. Gloved fingers fiddled with that lighter, tracing over the silvery metal and the thin engravings on its sides. "I wher dhe mazk fur a reezun, Spah. An onry yu an Mehdik knoo whry." He nodded as he found a way to make it up to his dear friend. "You are right. I should have done better with zhe information. Even zhough it was not work related eet was personal to you and I should not have treated it lightly. Come wiz me." "Spah...?" Concerned and not a little curious, the Pyro did as he was asked, putting the lighter away and following after his teammate. The Spy lead Pyro to his own room, saying nothing the entire way. It was only when the door was closed behind him that Spy cleared his throat to ease the silence. "Mon ami. I have wronged you, and have been taking you for granted. You are zhe first real friend I ever 'ad so I tend to make many mistakes. None of zhe less I want to show you zhat I do not want to take advantage of what we have." He paused again before continuing."I want to show you zhe most intimate part of me, somezhing zhat even I haven't seen since I was hired." It took a moment for the firebug to catch on, but when he did, the startled gasp he voiced was audible. "S-Spah?! Ar yu doin whud I fink yur doin?!" He nodded and said, "Eet ez only fair. You 'ave your mask on for a reason and I know. Eet ez only fair you know my face." The Frenchman started thumbing across the bottom of his baclava. Before he could continue, the Pyro reached out, staying the Frenchman's hand with his own. "Spah... Iz naught abowt phair. Yur mai frein, Spah, I truzd yu." "But I 'ave broken eet... And besides, I do not want you to zhink of me as just anozzer Spy." "Whel..." A moment's pause, and the firebug reluctantly let his hand drop, but not before giving the Frenchman's hand a gentle squeeze. "Yu knoo, I whon' schtop bein' yur frien, mazk r naught." "Zhen you do not zhink of me as some Spy who merely eavesdrops and gossips every little secret?" "Courz naught! Be a sucky Spah if yu were. An yur too nyce t'do dat anyway." "So I am forgiven?" he asked to make sure that there was no misunderstanding. The Pyro nodded. "Yu nehvr reary gave anyfin away anyway. Juzt schpooked me, iz all." Somehow, he gave the impression that he was smiling, patting the Spy on the shoulder. Putting the reveal to a halt for now, Spy smiled and gave the Pyro a small smile. "Zhank you." "Nuh prahblem. Uhm..." The firebug shuffled his feet awkwardly, glancing around the room a moment before settling back on the Spy. "Wuld yu mynd me tahkin ov mai mazk?" He normally only took it off during medical checkups or in his own room, but he trusted Spy. And if the Frenchman was willing to expose himself... Spy nodded. Far be it from him to deny the Pyro a little comfort now and again. He turned away to let the Pyro take off his mask. "Fank yu." The faint 'vip' sound of a zipper being undone could be heard, followed by a bit of fumbling and a snap as the rubber gasmask was removed. A relieved sigh was heard, followed by a soft pop like knuckles being cracked. "Unnnh, dat's much besser." Well, at least his voice was clearer. Lisp stayed though. "I am glad zhat you are more comfortable," Spy said, still not looking at Pyro. "Now that we 'ave all zhis unpleasantness aside; How do you zhink Medic ez doing?" A soft, concerned-sounding hiss. "Prob'ly not well. He- Uh, /she/ wuz expectin' t'be a guy at dhe end o'dhiz mess." The Pyro exhaled a sigh, stepping to the side to give the Spy a sidelong look. "Are you okay...?" "Oui, I figured I would want to geeve you a little privacy when you took off your mask. After all I know too well why we need zhem," he answered still keeping his back to the man. "Mmm, I know whut you mean. Boaf of us haff dhings t'hide..." Another soft hiss, this one trailing off into a yawn accompanied by audible jaw-cracking. "Ow. Haven' taken dhis stupid mask off in a while..." "I suppose wiz all zhe chaos happening around of you never really deed get a chance to relax," Spy said before letting out a yawn of his own. "Yeah... Uh, should I go? I don' wanna keep you from schleepin'." "Non, you can stay eef you want. Even take a small nap wiz me if you weesh," the man said with a smile before kicking off his shoes. A small, surprised but happy-sounding chirp. "Really...?" "But of course," the Spy answered before moving over to the far left of the bed. "Zhere ez room enough for two." The Pyro was more than happy to follow after the Frenchman, humming cheerfully as he crawled in beside his friend, squirming under the sheet and poking his head out the other side to smile at the Spy. At first glance, it seemed as though the Pyro hadn't removed his mask at all, but then those big round black 'lenses' blinked and the blunt 'filter' split open into a short muzzle bearing crooked peg-like teeth. "Fanks, Spy. F'r bein' my friend." "You should not zhank me at all. After all, no one really chooses zheir friends more zhan zhey can choose lovers or family," he answered before pulling him into a small hug. A hug the Pyro was all to happy to return, giving a soft hum as he snuggled a bit closer. It felt good to not have to hide, and being accepted despite his strangeness- It was a wonderful feeling. "Schtill. Fank you." "You are welcome." The Spy shut his eyes and started to fall asleep with the strange man in his arms.
Home stretch! Part 15 --- It was almost midnight when Scout was sneaking around the base. He was still kinda worried about the Medic, and figured that the man- er, woman had enough time to collect herself. Heavy had been a great help, and by the time the big Russian had taken his leave, the Medic almost felt like him- herself again. The shorter hair certainly helped, and she'd found some unused elastic bandaging to support her chest. It wasn't too much different, still mostly up and down instead of curvy and the same height as before. Almost all the scars were gone, though, including the ones that used to mar her hands, and the increased dexterity was definitely a bonus. But could she dance...? The thought almost made her giddy, and she was in the middle of stretching out on the floor when she heard the knock on the door. "Who ist it?" The Scout took a minute to clear his throat. "It's me... Um, I kinda wanted to see if you were feeling better." God this was so difficult. He hadn't talked to a girl in ages. "Quincy?" A moment to get to her feet and straighten her rumpled clothing, and the doctor padded over to the door, cracking it open at first to make sure it was the Scout before allowing him in. "Vell, come along." He nodded and walked in the Infirmary before closing the door behind him. The Bostonian barely gave the woman any eye contact seeing as how nervous he was. The Medic managed a small smile, shaking her head at the runner's shyness. She stepped up to her desk, bare feet making almost no sound as she retrieved her coat. "Quincy, I am still zhe same person. Just ein few of zhe cosmetics have changed." That snapped the young Scout out of it before he gave the Medic a small smile. "Right. So...I guess you are feeling better, huh?" "Ja, much besser." Idly folding her coat over her arm, she bent to retrieve her boots and socks before heading towards her room. "It helps to take zhings slowly und talk out zhe vorst of zhe issues. Heavy ist ein very gute listener for zhat sort of zhing." "Yeah... I guess you're really lucky to have a guy like Heavy, huh?" he asked before sitting on a stool. The Medic returned after a moment, straightening the cuffs of her dress shirt. She didn't look quite so obviously feminine as she had at first, something much aided by the makeshift sports bra and her less than overtly masculine appearance prior to the whole mess. "It ist nice to be able to talk vizhout any underlying intentions, zhat ist for certain. Funny how zhat vorks out..." A shrug, and she stretched her arms over her head, body arching into the motion as she yawned. "Unnnh, was time ist it?" "Bout midnight, give or take... And what do you mean without underlying intentions? I mean... Isn't he sorta like your boyfriend?" A short pause, the Scout's words sinking in, and the doctor burst out laughing, the sound near identical to what it had been originally. She composed herself after a few moments, still snickering a bit as she removed her glasses and rubbed at her eyes. "Nein, nein... Heavy ist asexual. He ist nicht interested in zhat sort of zhing." Replacing her glasses, she smiled at the young runner, quite obviously amused. "But he keeps saying that he 'loves this doktor' on the field, and goes over the top to protect you even during downtime. I figured it was because you were at least together or something," he said trying to defend his faux pas. The Medic sighed, shaking her head with a smile as she strode into the open space she'd made in the middle of the room, lowering herself down to the floor. "Vell, I know he cares deeply for everyvone on zhis team, as do I, und he vould gladly die to keep zhe rest of us safe. Maybe zhe over-protectiveness ist from somezhing outside zhe battlefield? Who knows, maybe he had ein sibling or somezhing I remind him of. " She shrugged, humming softly as she returned to the stretching she had been in the middle of. Scout couldn't help but widened his eyes. "Wow... You're really flexible, Doc... You think you could dance again?" he asked still watching the woman stretch. She looked up, a broad smile creasing her face. "Perhaps. Zhat ist vhat I am about to find out." A few more stretches, and the doctor took a deep breath, calming the sudden flight of butterflies in her belly as she mentally plotted out a basic routine. No enpointe, no jumps, just- Simple. With great care, she slowly rose from the floor, arms extended before her to force her to keep her balance. Just like in class, all those years ago... It all but had Quincy mesmerized right then and there. Not only could she dance, but she looked so graceful while she was doing it. He didn't even care if his jaw dropped, it was that good. The doctor was equally enthralled, butterflies turning into an almost giddy kind of joy as she remembered the motions. Plie, jette, grande jette... Before long, she had forgot all about her mental routine and just moved, swirling and spinning with remembered ease. Sure, she was rusty and extremely out of practice, but she couldn't bring herself to care, grinning from ear to ear as she used the floor space to her advantage. The Scout, who would normally whistle or cheer a woman on in this scenario, was too enchanted to even make a sound. God, she was beautiful. This was even better than that dream he had... Of course, it was only a matter of time before the experience had to end, and the Medic was out of practice. A stumbled step, and she very nearly fell into a gurney before she could catch herself. But instead of being disappointed, she laughed, half-breathless as she straightened, a hand lifting to brush a few stray hairs from her face. "Mein Gott, I vas fourteen again..." The laughter was contagious and the Scout was chuckling along with her. "You were great though. I mean, I've never seen something like that before." "Vell, let me assure zhat it vill nicht be zhe last time you see it." Experiencing that rush, heart pounding, lungs burning, muscles stretched to their limit-! The closest thing she had been able to experience was running about the battle field, and it simply paled in comparison with the giddy butterflies filling her chest. No, it would definitely not be the last time she danced. Smiling contentedly, the Medic took a step back and lowered down to the floor, stretching again to cool her muscles. "Before I forget, vas zhere anyzhing you needed of me? I can assume zhat you vere simply checking up on me, but it never hurts to ask." Scout felt his face flush and took a step back. "Yeah, I was checking on ya mostly. I mean you seemed so freaked out earlier." He inched closer toward the door, his heart pounding almost violently. "A-ah... IgottagoyouwerebeautifulthanksforlettingmeinBYE." After the young man's mouth ran about 100 miles per hour he felt the doorknob in his hand and turned around to bolt. The doctor made to get to her feet, but by the time she did, the Scout was already gone. "Dankeschon, mein freund..." Of course he wouldn't stay, it simply wasn't proper, not anymore. Back to being alone. Again. She sighed, fighting to ignore that sinking feeling of disappointment as she turned to go to bed. It hadn't really occurred to the youth to even stay that night. Not only was it not proper, but it was completely awkward. Even before the German became a woman, the Scout was enamored with him. Now that he'd turned into a woman, and just like in the dream no less, it was getting harder and harder to even confront her.
Little more... Part 17 --- The rest of the night went on relatively without incident, and the morning came as per normal with the daily alarm ringing out to wake the team. Off in the Spy's quarters, the Pyro struggled to ignore the racket, grumbling as he snuggled closer to the skinny Frenchman. Not minding the contact, the Frenchman even held the creature closer when he heard the alarm ring in his half asleep state. Unfortunately, the alarm was insistent and the firebug had sensitive hearing to begin with, so he was soon yawning and blinking open those round dark eyes. "Mmmrgh... I don' wanna get up..." Spy frowned and blinked his own eyes awake. "Looks like we took much longer zhan a nap. Oh well..." Not really being a very modest person, Spy kissed Pyro on the forehead before sitting up and looking for a new suit to wear in his closet. The Pyro couldn't help but smile at the gesture, giving a pleased hum as he nuzzled back before releasing the Spy to go on his way and sitting up himself. Yawning widely, the firebug rubbed tiredly at one eye before turning his attention to finding his mask. After all, one surprise reveal was enough for this team, no need to spook the others with his less than human appearance. "Well, i' was nice anyway. Been awhile sinz I slep' fhrou th' night." Once Spy figured out what he was wearing, the Frenchman closed the closet door and started changing, not really caring about privacy. " 'as sleeping really been an issue for you?" Shrugging, the firebug finally found his mask (how did it get under the bed?) and started to straighten it out so he could put it back on. "Mmm, mur of'en la'ely. Don' do well wiv the cold..." "So eet ez a temperature issue zhen? Eef zhat ez zhe case maybe you should invest in some extra blankets?" he suggested before fixing the rest of his outfit just right. The Pyro nodded, frowning slightly as he popped the gasmask's crumpled nose into shape. "I did, borrowed sum frum Medic. Doesn' seem'a be workin' real well, been sleepin' in my uniform a lot." He thought for a moment and figured, "Maybe you weel need body heat or a direct heat source from a light or somezhing." A thoughtful hum, followed by a slow nod. "Sounds like an idea..." Of course, the fact that he didn't actually know /what/ he was didn't really help things. He just knew that he didn't like being cold and got sluggish if he was cooled down for too long. Wasn't that something lizards did...? He shrugged, nosing into his mask and starting to pull the rubber into place. "Are you almost ready? We need to head out for breakfast soon," he said after tying his right shoe. A bit of fumbling and a sharp tug, and the Pyro nodded, giving a thumbs up. "Rehdi!" He opened the door and headed out to the kitchen. Heavy was already there, making some coffee for everyone. As the firebug scampered over to the big Russian and moved to help make the rest of breakfast, the Sniper looked up from where he was working on a crossword to give the Spy a questioning look. It was rare that the two ever went any where together, and seeing as the Spy was unsinged and the Pyro was chipper as usual, the marksman was more than a little curious. The Heavy was more than appreciative for the help. As for Spy, he merely shrugged at the look he was given and sat down beside the Australian. "I trust you 'ad a pleasant night?" "Mmm, depends upon what y'call pleasant." The Sniper sipped at his coffee, returning the majority of his attention to the crossword now that he had the Spy caught in conversation. "Still tryin'a wrap m'head aroun' what happened yesterday, wound up not sleepin' too well." Another sip, stubby pencil tapping against the faded newsprint. "How 'bout you? Don' see you an' Pyro on good terms too often." "Well, we 'ad a talk et we were able to smooth zhings out," he answered with another shrug before leaning back in his chair. Scout walked in next, in an unusual hurry to eat and run. The marksman gave his teammate a sidelong glance, obviously ready to call bullshit, but was distracted by the Scout's abrupt arrival. "Ey, somebody set y'r pants on fire, kid?" "No, just gotta get some extra training in. I think I've been slowing down lately," he answered, not really addressing the Sniper as he managed to get some toast from the Heavy. "Slowin' down? You?" An amused snort, the gunman shaking his head. "Day that happens is the day I give up cappin' drongoes at five hundred yards." "Was about 'dron-goes'?" The Medic stood in the doorway, dressed but otherwise looking like she'd just rolled out of bed, her hair mussed and her glasses askew from her rubbing sleep-sand from her eyes. The Scout mentally cursed that he couldn't leave the kitchen before the doctor arrived and stuffed the toast in his mouth so he could have an excuse not to talk to anyone anymore. He gave them all a wave, holding the toast in his mouth the entire time before he made his exit outside. Oh, /that's/ what was wrong. The Sniper smirked, returning the Scout's wave as the Medic stepped aside to let the runner pass. Funny how she didn't really look all that different... Course, she had been born female, so it wasn't too much of a stretch once one really thought about it. "Mornin' Doc. Sleep well?" The doctor turned, blinking in a rather owl-ish manner before shaking her head. "Ah, nein, nicht so vell. It vas hard getting to sleep..." She yawned, covering her mouth as she stepped into the room and started for the coffee being set out on the counter. Heavy sighed and finished the rest of breakfast before making a plate for the tired Medic. "Oh, I am sure eet weel be better tomorrow night. It was big change yesterday." "Mmm, sehr true..." The doctor offered a grateful smile at her teammate's kindness, taking the plate and seating herself at the table across from the Spy and Sniper. Spy just hummed minding his own business and ate his breakfast quietly. After a moment of awkward silence, the Heavy frowned and stared a hole into the Spy's head. "What did you do? You are never zhis happy." Mid-bite, the Medic glanced up, looking first to the Heavy and then to the Spy, quite obviously confused. Sitting at the counter, the Pyro giggled. Spy just appeared innocent. "I did nozzhing you paranoid gorilla... And even eef I did, it would be a personal zhing zhat I am too much of a gentleman to disclose." Heavy frowned. Spy was screwing with him. A bit more giggling from the firebug, catching the Sniper's attention. The Pyro simply waved in reply to the marksman's questioning look, humming cheerfully as he stepped out to enjoy his breakfast in peace. Following the Sniper's gaze, the Medic smiled at seeing the firestarter so happy, returning that little wave with one of her own before returning to her breakfast. Glad that Pyro was now in a better mood, Spy figured he had earned himself a cigarette and went outside for a smoke. Heavy just grunted and started to eat his own breakfast. Soldier came in from his usual calisthenics outside to get himself something to eat, letting out a low whistle. "Boy need to stop drinking those Bonks or whatever he's doing. He's running so fast I can barely see his feet with all the dust he kicked up." The doctor straightened, giving the infantryman a curious look over her coffee mug. "I zhought ve veaned if off zhat radioactive garbage..." "I dunno, could be wrong about why he's going so fast but the boy hasn't really stopped running," he answered before getting his own cup of coffee. Shaking her head, the Medic sighed, running a hand through her tousled hair and frowning when her ponytail came loose, forcing her to put down her mug so she could go find the escaped hair tie. "Schtupid hair..." Across the table, the Sniper's eyes went wide, fork halfway to his mouth. How the hell-?! One second, it was the Medic he'd been working with for years, slightly more feminine but still relatively androgynous, and then- Where the heck did the girl come from?! Soldier noticed Sniper acting like a gaping fish and managed to close the Aussie's jaw for him. "Told ya. Now don't stare," the Soldier whispered into his lover's ear. The marksman cleared his throat, his face going red as he nudged the infantryman in the ribs. "I know y'did, bloody didn'-!" His hoarse whisper cut short when the Medic straightened, the German mumbling darkly under her breath as she attempted to sort out her hair problems. Maybe she'd had Heavy cut it too short... Finally Soldier gave in and headed over to the Medic to fix her hair of all things. "Here... Let me get that for ya." The rough calloused hands did a decent job of putting it up in a ponytail for the Medic. Then he gave the rest of the team a death glare, daring any of them to laugh at him for knowing how to fix hair. While more than a little unexpected, the doctor was grateful for the help, and she gave the infantryman a thankful smile. "Dankeschon... Pardon my asking, but vhere did you learn to do zhat?" The Sniper looked to his lover, equally curious but unwilling to pry in public. "I lived with my sister and niece for a little while after her husband left the two of them to fend for themselves. Was working in basic construction back then. Niece was only 5, so I had to do her hair a lot." The Medic couldn't help a small chuckle, amused by the mental image of the rough and tough Soldier braiding a little girl's hair. "Zhat ist so sveet. She must have adored you, dein niece." Hiding behind his cup, the Sniper was trying very hard to keep from laughing aloud, having a similar mental image as the Medic but also applied in reverse. He fought hard to keep a sad expression from creeping on his face. "Yeah... She did." He said no more about it and got himself another cup of coffee. Sensing some nerve having been struck, the doctor's smile faded into concern, brow furrowing as she watched the Soldier step up to the coffeemaker. A moment's pause, and she turned to the Sniper, who only shrugged. He didn't know what was wrong either. The Soldier drank some of the black coffee before walking out of the kitchen to his own room with little to say. Why the hell did he have to answer the Medic? "Sniper...?" "On it." The marksman drained his own coffee post-haste, leaving the empty mug and plate on the table to better hurry after the infantryman. He caught up with him not too far down the hall, laying a hand on his lover's arm in a comforting manner. "Ey, what's wrong, luv? Not like you t'leave breakfast t'get cold." He chuckled softly. "Funny, she would've been ten today." He opened the door to their room and walked through it. "Solly...?" The Sniper frowned, quick to follow after his partner and close the door behind him, dread sinking his heart in his chest. "Solly, whaddya mean she would've been ten?" He didn't want to say it outright, there was no way he could. But he knew the Sniper wouldn't leave him alone until he explained himself. "Was only gonna be gone for a half hour. Sis needed a few things from the grocery store... Her husband came back, after leaving them alone for a year, drunk as a skunk." An image of blood on the floor filled his head. "When I came back... Well, I can't really say what I saw..." That was more than enough for the marksman. He hadn't been in this bloody business for as long as he had without seeing the awfulness humans could commit, and seeing the man he loved having difficulty telling what little he did said more than if he'd spoken a novel. The sharpshooter stepped up without a word, wrapping his arms around his partner in a firm hug. "Wasn't the worst of it... I saw the bastard standing there. Grabbed the nearest thing I could find. A shovel of all things. The police arrested me thinking I killed all three of em in a fit of crazy." He let out a small sob. "The owner of the store helped testify on my behalf... No one really did like that man, so I was free to go. But... It'll never bring Lizzie back." The Sniper tightened his grip, wishing he could say something to soothe the pain, but what could he say? "...'M sorry, love." He sighed and turned around burying his head against the Sniper's neck. More sobs came out of him. And the marksman simply held him, letting his lover get out the sadness. While the couple was left to grieve, Scout came in from his training, sore, tired and drenched in sweat. Maybe since he tired himself out, his libido wouldn't go crazy, and he could get some sleep. Concerned about the Soldier, the Medic was still sitting at the breakfast table, frowning down at the last little scraps on egg on her plate as she tried to figure out what had gone off about the conversation. Right after mentioning his niece... She sighed, pushing her glasses out of the way to rub tiredly at her eyes as she sat up. Only to go still, seeing the Scout in the door. "Ah, Tag. Vhy are you all sveaty? Did anozzer coyote get in?" "No. Just went for a run," he said between pants as he found the nearest place to sit down. He seemed too tired to be nervous about her presence, at least that much had worked. "Qvite ein run..." Medical (and maternal) instinct kicked in, and the doctor was on her feet in a moment, dumping her dirty dishes in the sink to be washed later as she got the Scout a glass of water. "Here. Drink it slow, else you'll choke." "You didn't have ta do that... I just need to rest a little," Scout protested while she was in the middle of fetching the water. Upon receiving it he ended up doing what the doctor told him to do. The Medic simply smiled, shaking her head as she sat down beside the runner. "I am dein physician, it ist mein job." Scout gulped down the water, not too quickly though in case he incurred the Medic's wrath. Once he finished, he still stayed seated, not knowing what to say. Somehow, the doctor managed to keep from betraying her own uneasiness, picking up the Sniper's forgotten crossword while the runner was busy and unfolding it to find the day's paper. Well, it was technically a week old, but mail only came once a month, so the information was new to her (as well as the comics). After a few more minutes of silence, Scout felt like he was able to walk again and tried to stand up. His knees were wobbling. Great. He over did it. But at least the urge for sex was gone... As if sensing the runner's less-than-stable state (or perhaps having predicted it), the Medic was quick about turning to steady the wobbly Scout, a firm hand on the small of his back and the other gripping a shoulder. "Careful, mein freund. You dehydrated deinself, it vill be besser if you did nicht move around for a vhile." "Shit..." the Scout cursed without thinking before realize the gravity of what he had just done. Ma always taught him never to cuss in front of a woman. Of course, the doctor had been living around the young man for the better part of the last several years and was quite used to the youth's foul language. She didn't even acknowledge the curse, simply easing the runner back down into his chair. "Stay zhere, I vill see if ve have any juice. It vill rehydrate you besser zhan plain wasser..." This in mind, she stepped back and headed towards the fridge. God, this was mortifying. All he wanted to do was wear himself down long enough to prevent his libido getting the best of him. Now he would give anything to let the earth beneath his feet swallow him up. A bit of rummaging, and the Medic found what she was looking for, returning to the table with a pitcher of orange juice and refilling the Scout's empty water glass with the fluid. "Zhere, zhat should help some. Finish zhat und go lie down for a vhile, you vill feel much besser aftervards, trust me." Scout nodded and drank the juice before heading down to the closest room to lie down in. Unfortunately for him, it was the Infirmary. Too exhausted to really care anymore, he laid down on one of the gurneys before shutting his eyes. Worried about her teammate, the doctor followed after the lethargic runner, gently coaxing him towards the Infirmary so she could keep an eye on him, just in case. She wasn't entirely sure why the Scout was running himself so hard, especially so early and so shortly before a match, but damn if she wasn't going to make sure he got better. It was her job, after all, and she cared for the boy, despite his faults and foibles. Of course, she cared for everyone on her team. The Scout just happened to be more reckless and accident prone than the others, and thus required her attention more often. Once she was certain he was resting properly, she busied herself for a few moments sorting through random bits of paper on her desk before giving up on the distraction tactic and heading off into her bedroom to get ready for the day. As the rest of the team gathered to start their match Spy noticed it was a little too quiet around here. They were missing someone loudmouthed and fast. "Where ez Scout?" he called out to anyone who would listen. "Asleep." The Medic stepped in, straightening the straps of the MediPack on her back. "He vore himself out und vas dehydrated. He vill join us vhen he vakes up." "Great. We are one man down. Zhees would not 'appen if he just had a wank and got over eet," he muttered before walking toward the gate. The Sniper sighed, rolling his eyes as the doctor pinned the Spy with a decidedly unimpressed look before shaking her head and turning to her usual task of overhealing the team. With any luck, she'd build an Ubercharge and be able to run out with the Heavy at full strength. Heavy braced himself, ready to get out on the field for the match. "Mission begins in thirty seconds," the familiar voice said over speaker. An electric crackle came to life not long after the announcement, and the Medic grinned, feeling the MediGun trembling in her grasp. "I am fully charged!" When the gate released, the team started running for the center capture point as soon as they could. Spy was already cloaked and ready to go, while Soldier started to clear out the other team's Scout. In the short few moments it took for the Spy to cloak, the Sniper was out the gate and bolting for a perch, long legs put to good use as he ran, half-hunched over to avoid letting the opposing marksman get in a free shot. The Pyro jogged out shortly after, the Engineer in tow as he cleared the way for the Texan lugging his heavy toolbox. Releasing the Ubercharge, the doctor laughed at the euphoric adrenaline rush of being totally invincible as she jogged out after her much larger teammate, coat tails fluttering out behind her. The opposing team had a few minutes to set up their own strategy. RED Sniper had a good view of the BLU Medic's head and was ready to shoot as soon as the Medic's charge wore out. A threat that the doctor was blissfully unaware of, balancing her MediGun on one hip with practiced ease as she tore into the enemy Spy with her bonesaw in her off hand. Kicking the corpse away, she all but giggled as she caught up with her big Russian companion, grinning through the blood that had splattered onto her face. "Steady..." the RED whispered to himself, giving the trigger a light half-squeeze. Scout came running out of the base in a half tired state with his equipment trying to figure out where that RED dot was coming from. If the Medic got shot, there was a chance Respawn might screw things up for the Doc again. Running as fast as his feet could carry him he pushed the Medic out of the way when the trigger was pulled completely. In the middle of attempting to tug her saw free of a Demoman's skull, the sudden tackle caught the doctor completely off guard, causing her to give a startled screech as she was thrown to the ground. A moment of stunned stillness, feeling the weight pressing upon her back, and she abruptly found herself being dragged backwards. She scrambled to find some kind of grip, yelping as she was hefted into the air by her leg and grimacing at the limp corpse of her teammate tumbling drunkenly across the ground. The RED Heavy chuckled darkly, his meaty fist clenched firmly about her ankle. "Leetle lady Doktor should haf stayed home in kitchen." The insult struck a chord in the female Medic, and she snarled. "I vill have you know, I vas ein DANCER!" A loud SMACK, her heavy steel-toed boot smashing across the brute's face with the strength of a dancer's legs. Before the RED could recover, she had her syringe gun out and was bracing herself on the hulking man's broad chest as she unloaded the entire clip into his face and neck. He roared in pain, stumbling back as the toxic serum took effect and collapsing in a heap. This gave the Spy an opportunity to weave around the fighting teammates and enemies undetected. He just needed to get to that capture point. Now it was a matter of getting past that sneaky firestarting bas- Was he smelling smoke? Somehow the enemy Pyro had caught wind of him. Merde. The Spy got out of the situation as fast as he could so he could put the fire out, but the burns were too severe, and he died on field. BLU was down to 7. Heart pounding hard in her chest from the encounter with the enemy Heavy, the Medic came to her senses at hearing the Medic Call. A momentary glance at the interface printed into her glasses, and she was off, bonesaw in hand as she ran to her teammate's aide, pouncing on the enemy Pyro from behind and slashing the mute's throat open. She tumbled as the corpse fell, and she rolled to safety, hair coming loose as she looked around for the teammate in need. "Scheizze..." Looked like it was up to her. A moment to reload her syringe gun, and she was off once more, charging for the control point. The pop of a can being opened in the distance. Then came several gulping noises. The RED Scout ran at top speed, ready to take down the intruding Medic. She wasn't sure exactly what prompted her, but she ducked and rolled instead of jumping up onto the platform like she originally intended, narrowly avoiding a super-charged bat to the head. A moment to regain her footing, and she spun around, still ducked down low as she switched her gun for her saw, swinging out at knee height in the hopes of catching her speedy assailant off guard. "C'mon Grandma, you'll never freakin' catch me," said the supercharged force of nature, as he bobbed and weaved out of her reach. A thin smile, the doctor watching the Scout's darting movements. The effects would wear off right about... "I do nicht have to catch you, junge. I just need to /hit/ you." NOW. She lurched forward, but instead of striking out with her saw, she put her renewed flexibility to use, planting her booted foot squarely in the runner's face with a nasty CRUNCH. Sure enough, the runner's face was broken underneath the Medic's heavy boot. With the other REDs occupied and no one to oppose her, the capture point was left empty. "HA!" Panting from the exertion, the doctor grinned, pulling out her syringe gun and mounting the platform. A cursory sweep with her weapon to check for Spies, and she stood herself proudly smack dab in the middle of the point, hair loose and wild as she awaited the next comer. She was on a roll today! Soldier was able to catch up and stand on the point with her. All they needed to do was get the point locked. The Medic smiled, glad to see the Soldier seemed to be in better shape since breakfast, before turning her attention to the battlefield. With the RED's Heavy, Pyro and Scout dealt with, that still left 6 members to worry about until the three Respawned. One less than their own team... The Respawn kicked in for the missing RED teammates while the Medic, Soldier, and even Heavy of BLU were gaining control of the next point. Though unfortunate, it also meant that their own Spy and Scout were on their way, and the Sniper was making quick work of those he could see, covering the trio out in the open atop the control point. The Pyro cackled as he finally tracked down the enemy Spy, setting him alight before switching tactics and bashing the masked man's head in with his ax. One less creep to worry about. Slowly but surely (mainly because of the Medic's antics), the BLU team made their way to the final control point and locked it in place, ensuring their victory. As the others began to group up, the doctor switched back to her more usual tactics, healing her comrades and keeping an eye out for incoming enemies. She took great pride in her abilities, thankfully unhindered by the previous day's events, and when that final control point was locked, she couldn't help but cheer. Near two weeks of stalemates and failures, now finally a victory! Caught up in the moment, she didn't think when she grabbed the Scout in a hug, spinning the young runner with her as she crowed with laughter. Too excited about the victory (and the fact that the Medic was safe), the Scout didn't feel embarrassed or even afraid, he spun with her laughing with the same enthusiasm as before. After a few moments, the spinning started to get out of hand, and the Medic stumbled, tripping back onto her bottom. She couldn't really bring herself to care about it too much, giggling breathlessly as she flopped back onto the ground. "Mein Gott, ve did it. Ve did it!" Scout laughed just as hard after falling over on top of her, ignoring the ramifications of the situation. "You really did it. I mean you were all badass!" "Ja, ve vere, veren't ve? Und you! I have never seen you run zo fast, even on zhat Bonk garbage!" The Medic grinned, all but squirming with glee and utterly oblivious to the inappropriateness of her position in relation to the Scout. It wasn't like the others were really paying attention, though, the Sniper whooping from atop the Soldier's shoulders and the Pyro bouncing gleefully before tackling the Spy in a tight hug. When the hooplah died down with the others, Scout finally realized the sensitivity of their position and blushed at how awkward this all was. Their noses were even touching... He pulled back and started to stand up. Still giggling, the Medic pushed herself up to follow the runner's example, blissfully unaware of the awkwardness. Clapping the boy on the shoulder, she turned to the group as a whole. "Herr Soldat, zhis calls for ein party, do you zhink?" Behind her, the Pyro squealed, bouncing once again while he still held the Spy. The Soldier nodded. He was laughing along with the rest of them. "Why not? We deserve a little break. I'll tell Engie to fire up the jukebox." Heavy clapped his hands in excitement. "I will bake cake!" The Engineer was grinning just as wide as the rest of them, his helmet gone missing somewhere from an enthusiastically drunk Demo grabbing the short Texan in a hug made brief when the Scotsman passed out. Still, he was close enough to overhear the infantryman's decision and he leapt up with a whoop. "Yee-HAW! I'll go an' get it right now!" The Medic couldn't help but laugh, her grip on the Scout's shoulder tightening as she used him to steady her own less than stable stance. She managed to get ahold of herself after a moment or two, and exhaled a breathless sigh. "Ah, it ist gute to laugh again..." Scout's laughter died down as he watched the others disperse. It was kinda nice to see everyone so happy. Heavy frowned as he watched the scene before him. He walked up to Scout and whispered in his ear. Spy couldn't help but smile and nod after over hearing the giant man dispense advice. The Medic smiled at seeing the Heavy approach, but excused herself when he focused on Scout. Obviously, the big Russian wanted to talk to the young runner, and she wasn't about to eavesdrop. That was Spy's job. She hummed a cheery little tune to herself as she trailed after the rest of the team heading inside, her smile curving up just that extra little bit at seeing how the Sniper rested so easily in the Soldier's care, head pillowed on his arms atop the infantryman's helmet as he chatted animatedly with the Pyro, who was dragging the unconscious Demoman inside. "Now that everyone ez gone, I want to tell you that I notice." "Notice what?" the Scout asked not sure what the Heavy met. "You more than lust after Doktor. You love Doktor." Scout immediately tried to deny it but Heavy stopped him. "No excuse. I can tell thees. Eef you ever plan on being with Medic, you should learn to relax and be self. Be confident like you used to, and stop avoiding." Scout was flabbergasted by the frankness of the Russian. "B-but I..." "No buts, and tonight is good time to share interests. Ask to dance. Trust me, eet von't be bad for you." Heavy left before the Scout could protest.
Last bit! Part 18 --- The celebration that night was a merry one, the Engineer's much-loved jukebox cranking out old country tunes and a few choice pieces of jazz mixed in with some records the others had donated while the Sniper worked with the Pyro to put together a fine fire-roasted dinner. The Medic helped the Heavy with his cake, and made some treats of her own to contribute, some simple sugar cookies made with leftover ingredients. She sat by the fire, snickering over a glass of lemonade as the Demoman flopped backward out of his seat and didn't seem to notice, the Scotsman continuing to sing drunkenly along with Dean Martin. Scout hummed to the music as he swayed from side to side with a cookie in his hand. Spy took the slow song coming up as an opportunity to have a little fun with the Pyro and extended his hand toward the man. "Care to dance?" A curious hum, the firebug looking up to see who had spoken, and the Pyro nodded, taking the Frenchman's hand and letting his friend take the lead as the song switched over from Dean's crooning to the harmony of Nat King Cole and Natalie Cole in duet. The Medic watched, a soft smile on her face, as the two circled the campfire, and gave a soft sigh as her gaze fell upon the Sniper leaning over to cuddle with the Soldier. Feeling his stomach tie itself in knots, the Scout clenched his fists as he scooted closer to the Medic. He looked away, but his hand just lightly nudged the other's. Feeling that gentle nudge, the doctor tore her gaze from the two couples enjoying each other's company to see who was trying to get her attention, and smiled at seeing the bashful Scout. "Ist zhere somezhing you vish to ask of me, Quincy...?" He ignored the warm feeling that was gathering in his toes and cleared his throat before asking, "You like dancing, right?" A soft chuckle. "Ja. I do." She had an idea of what the youth was attempting, but didn't want to take the wind out from under him and let the runner build up his courage. His fists were still clenched and his eyes were still to the ground. 'You can do this.' He thought to himself. He finally managed to get the words out, remembering eye contact when he asked. "Then... Would you like to dance with me tonight?" "Of course." Realizing the Scout would likely need a little coaching, the Medic took the lead, taking the runner's hand and pulling him up with her as she stepped into the open space beside the campfire. She was a few inches taller, but she'd danced with shorter, so it really was no problem. "I vill say zhis; Eyes on me, not my feet." "But then how do I know I'm doing it right?" he asked in a near whisper. "How do you know vhen you are running? You feel it, in dein feet, ja? It ist balance, und feeling." And practice, but that would come later. Besides, she had on steel-toed boots, it wasn't like he could trod on her toes. He nodded and tried to move his feet to the rhythm of the song. Lucky for him, the Scout was good at many things that involved kinetic talent, and dancing fell under that category. He wasn't on the same level as Spy, but he didn't hit the woman's toes at least. "Sehr gute..." Huh, he was actually pretty good at this. Even knew where to put his hands. Sitting off to the side, the Sniper gently nudged his partner and gestured to the quiet duo in the corner, the Medic smiling and the Scout looking nervous as all hell. Soldier was torn between being sentimental, and chuckling at the scene in front of him. He opted to say nothing about it, not wanting to ruin the moment. Scout was almost in his own personal heaven. He was so distracted by her pretty expression that he did trip on his own feet. But the doctor was quick, stepping in and neatly re-balancing the runner in one smooth motion that allowed them to continue as if nothing had happened. She gave a soft chuckle, gently moving the dance in a slow circle. "You are very gute. A little out of practice, but gute." "And you are...Well, you did it professionally, only makes sense you're better." Scout realized how long he was rambling and stopped talking. He wished it lasted longer than it did, but the song was over before they knew it. "I vas eine /ballerina/ professionally. I learned ozzer dances over time, but never as I did in my youth." A soft chuckle, the Medic leading the way back to their seats. "I could nicht tap dance even if you paid me." 'Unforgettable' switched over, turning into the catchy upbeat tempo of 'L-O-V-E'. Still held in the arms of the Spy, the Pyro gave a contented sigh, leaning his head on the Frenchman's shoulder. Spy smiled and gave the Pyro a gentle pat on the back with his free hand. "Do you need to rest?" he asked, not wanting to keep the Pyro on the floor for more than necessary. "Nu... Iz nice hur..." Maybe it was cooling evening air, maybe it was the music, whatever. Being with Spy just felt... Nice. Sitting down with Scout, the Medic couldn't help but smile upon seeing the two standing together by the softly playing jukebox, and wondered if the Spy would ever notice how much the firebug loved him. Soldier was the first to yawn and tried to stand up. "I think I am gonna hit the hay. Y' coming Sniper?" "Hm? Oh, yeah,'m comin'." The marksman stood and stretched, yawning widely before falling in step with the infantryman, coming up beside his partner to find that broad callused hand with his own. One by one, each team member retired, leaving Spy and Pyro alone out under the stars with the fading campfire. When the Spy was sure the others were gone or otherwise occupied, he gave the Pyro a small kiss on the muzzle. It took a moment for the gesture to register, since the firebug still had his mask on, but he gave a soft chirp upon realizing what had happened, tilting his head to gently return the gesture with the filter of his mask. "Fank yu, Spah..." "Zhere ez nozzhing to zhank," he answered, still holding on to the Pyro. "You are as 'uman to me as zhe rest of zhe team." The Pyro shifted his grip to hug the Spy back, struggling to hide the fact that he was trembling. "Buht... Dat's wy Ah fank yu. Cause yu look pash whud Ah look like. An- Naught mehny wood." "Well, you 'ave somezhing zhat shines through your appearance, and anyone who weel not see it is a fool. Do not waste your zhoughts on such people. You are too kind for such sadness." The firebug managed a jerky nod, ducking his head to nuzzle against his friend's neck. "Okay..." A soft sniffle, the Pyro tightening his grip. "Sh-Shood Ah show de ovvers?" "Eet es up for you to decide. I weel not make zhat decision for you, darling," he answered, still swaying with the firebug. "Ah dun wanna hide ehnymur..." Almost 6 years on the team, fighting and dying and too afraid to reveal himself to anyone outside the Medic. If not for the Spy's innate curiosity and his own alcohol-weakened inhibitions on that night, the Frenchman would have never known and they would not have come to this point. With that thought in mind, the Pyro straightened, a hand lifting to his mask and pausing a moment on the filter in a hesitant manner before twisting off the piece so he could be heard clearly. "Kevin." He stopped swaying and stood still. "Eef zhat ez what you want, you do not 'ave to 'ide... Kevin." The Spy seemed like he was trying out the name at first before he shrugged and gave the other man his own name. "Jacques. Or Jack depending on what ez easy for you to pronounce." The Pyro seemed to smile, his whole countenance brightening as he looked up to the one person more mysterious than himself and reveled in the fact that he had returned the gift of his name. "I fink I'll schtick wif dhe short version. Jahk." A soft chuckle, the firebug cocking his head slightly. "Funny. I never would have fhought you to have such a normal name." "Well... Eet was more of an attempt to normalize my own name for Americans," He answered with a shrug. "I suppose we should 'ead inside. Eet ez getting late." Nodding, the firebug paused, turning to the dimming but still live fire and kicking dirt onto the embers to kill it. No need to start a firestorm, no matter how pretty they were. A bit of fumbling and he found his flamethrower, calmly igniting the pilot to light their way home. When the two of them reached inside the base, Spy decided to escort the Pyro to his room. It was at least he could do after all. When they made it to the firebug's door, he gave him a goodbye kiss and whispered, "Je taime." A moment's stillness, the Pyro struggling to recall what the words meant and feeling something flutter inside him upon realization. Without thinking, he lurched up on tiptoe and did his level best to return the gesture, filter unscrewed and his flamethrower falling forgotten against the door as he struggled with his inhuman mouth shape constricted within the boundaries of his mask. He backed off a second later, panting slightly as he fought to compose himself, frozen in place from a combination of hope and a kind of fear-struck embarrassment. "I- I- Iloveyou." With that admittance, the firebug scarpered, ducking into his room and leaving his flamethrower to tumble to the ground. With the door shut behind the Pyro, Spy sighed and tried to pick up the awkward equipment. The firebug would have to eventually approach him if nothing else but to get the equipment. It would be a good 20 minutes before the Pyro finally noticed the absence of his weapon, his baby, and it took another hour before he managed to summon up the courage to go in search of the Spy, who had undoubtedly picked up the homemade contraption. He wasted another five minutes dallying before the Frenchman's door, twiddling his fingers and rocking back on his heels and otherwise feeling very silly and self-conscious. At last, he finally willed himself to knock on his best friend's door, all the while praying that the Spy would still be his best friend. Only dressed in his pajama bottoms, and his balaclava, Spy answered the door with a small smile. "I assume you are looking for somezhing zhat was missing?" The Pyro nodded meekly, shuffling his feet with his eyes to the floor. It was like their first meeting all over again... "Do not stand zhere, come in. You are always welcome, remember zhat," Spy replied before ushering the other man in. A moment of hesitation, the firebug still worrying he'd unintentionally offended his friend, and he did as he was asked, shuffling inside. "...'m sorry." "Do not apologize. You feel what you feel and zhat ez understandable," he said cutting to the chase. Then he inched toward the Pyro before nearly pinning him to the wall. "Besides, I said eet first did I not?" The Pyro gave a startled yip at being pinned, caught totally off guard. He stiffened at first, but calmed as he reminded himself that the contact was not harmful, that the Spy, no, /Jack/ was his friend. Maybe more. "Y-Yeah, you did. An' I said it back." "So what should we do about zhis predicament?" Spy asked in an almost playful manner. Severely out of his element, the Pyro stuttered as he struggled to respond, finally forcing himself to stop and taking a breath to calm himself down. "I don' know, Jahk. I've never done anythin' like this..." A gloved hand lifted experimentally, stroking a few fingers down the middle of the Frenchman's narrow chest. "Well zhen how about we make a few ground rules," he said. "I weel teach you anyzhing zhat I know about zhis sort of zhing, provided zhat it must be done at your pace, and zhat eef you are uncomfortable, you must say no." A short pause, the firebug obviously thinking things over, then he nodded. "Soun's good t'me... B-But you have t'tell me if I'm hurting you, okay?" He knew very well that he was stronger than he looked, and despite living with his strange body for so long, he still had moments were he forgot about that strength and caused harm he never intended. "Zhe only time I zhink eet weel be a problem eef we are in zhe middle of lovemaking, but oui, I promise," he answered quite frankly. The Pyro was abruptly very glad he still had his mask on, feeling an embarrassed blush warm his face. Sure, it wouldn't have been that apparent anyways, but he tended to be pretty easy to read. "Uh, good to know..." He swallowed, really unsure of what he was supposed to do. "So, do you need me to answer any questions?" Spy asked, trying to figure out what to do to make the Pyro feel less uneasy. A soft chuckle. "Where do we start?" It was hard, but he did what he could to make light of the situation, knowing that if he let himself really think about it he'd wind himself up and things would just get plain awkward. "All we 'ave to do ez do what we 'ave always done. Zhe only difference ez zhat we 'ave benefits now and again. Like what we deed zhat night, only now we don't chalk zhem up as mistakes." The Pyro couldn't help a small sigh of relief, relaxing as he nodded. "Dat soun's like a nice idea." Not just nice, really nice. Wonderful. He could work with that, he already knew most of the boundaries involved. Humming softly, the firebug tilted his head to nuzzle gently against the Spy's chin, his gloved hands reaching up to rest comfortably at the Frenchman's waist. "Why don't you stay 'ere tonight. Eet ez awful late after all," Jack suggested in a peace-filled tone. "I'd like dat..." The Pyro shifted his balance to pull away from the wall, bringing himself closer to his friend for better cuddling. He smiled before ushering the Pyro to his bed. Making sure that the doors were closed and locked he started to turn off the light, before stripping his balaclava. The firebug didn't notice at first, sitting on the bed and tugging off his own mask, but as he lifted a hand to rub the soreness of the day from his jaw, he caught a glimpse of bare skin and close-cropped brown hair where there was usually navy blue cotton knit and simply froze, eyes going wide enough to glimpse a sliver of white in the black. His back was still to the man, as the Spy scratched his scalp for a moment. He climbed into bed, still not facing his friend for a moment, before hesitantly turning around. The Pyro blinked, obviously more than a little stunned by the fact that he could actually, finally see the face of his dearest friend. Almost as if in a trance, the firebug shifted around, letting his own mask fall to the floor, forgotten as he reached forward a tentative hand. Gloved fingers stroked over slightly out-sized ears, feeling the definition for the first time, before moving to pet that near buzz-cut. "I's funny. I always pictured you with long hair..." Spy's breath hitched as soon as his ears felt contact. He cleared his throat and answered, "Eet would be unmanageable. I am a man of practicality, and long 'air would only get in zhe way." "Makes sense." Features normally obscured by the balaclava came into sharp focus, and the Pyro couldn't help himself, shuffling closer to put both hands to use. He chuckled softly, smiling as much as he was able. "You have big ears." "Oui, I know. Ears as big as an elephants," he teased before nuzzling his nose to the other man's muzzle. The firebug was more than happy to nuzzle back, those big round eyes crinkling as he gave a soft chirp, letting his hands drop from the Spy's scruffy hair. "They're cute. I like 'em." "Glad you seem to like zhem. As much as I 'ate to admit it, my face looks better wiz zhe balaclava on," he chuckled. "Nah, I like y'r face. I's a friendly face." The Pyro finally let himself lie down, half-curling to better cuddle with the Frenchman. As the two men were saying their good nights, Scout was trying to do the gentlemanly thing by escorting the Medic to her room before heading off into his own. "I appreciate zhe courtesy, Quincy, but zhe Infirmary ist at zhe opposite end of zhe base from dein room. Ist it nicht out of dein vay a bit?" "Still doesn't mean I don't wanna help. Besides, it's dark out and you could trip or somethin'," he answered with a blush, knowing how weak his excuse was. The doctor chuckled softly, deciding not to point out the fact that they were walking inside the base where the halls were well lit and the pathways were smooth concrete. "Alright, alright, you vin. It ist too late to argue." "Right." When they made it to the Infirmary door, Scout lingered for a little while in front of the woman. With his inhibition factored lowered from his being tired, he shut his eyes, stood on his toes and gave the Medic a quick peck on the lips. It was quick and chaste, but it was most definitely a kiss, only the second of its kind that the Medic had ever experienced, and she was understandably stunned. She blinked owlishly, eyes wide as she processed what had just occurred. Then before she could stop herself, she leaned down to return the gesture, a hand lifting to cup the runner's face so she could do so properly. Was this really happening? Was this really happening to him? It just had to be a dream because Quincy rarely had any luck in this department. After the two of them parted, Scout just stood there a moment frozen, much like a deer staring at the headlights of a car. There was pleasure in what he did, but he also felt a moment of fear. Running on pure instinct, Scout could only do what he did best to avoid disaster. Run. Slightly dazed by her own forwardness, the doctor caught that spark of fear in the runner's eye and reacted before she could really think on her actions, grabbing the youth's arm before he could get too far out of her reach. "Vait!" He stopped with his arm in her grasp. He was trapped. Shit! He turned around and started to ramble. "I'm really sorry, I guess I was just tired. I mean, you deserve better, and should be treated better, and I guess I let myself get carried away, and-" She didn't give him a chance to continue, reeling him in for a second kiss. When she broke away, she was smiling. "You are zhe sweetest boy I have ever met, Quincy. Do nicht downgrade deinself." This time he felt more relaxed. But he was not the master of all social skills. "So, you really... Like me?" The Medic gave a soft chuckle, shifting her grip from the Scout's arm to his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "Of course I do. You vere zhere vhen I needed you, even after discovering my past." She lifted her free hand, brushing a few loose strands from her face. "I enjoy dein company. It ist... Refreshing, I suppose you could say. You make me feel vanted..." That was what he was doing? He thought he was just hanging out with the Medic at first. Company really must mean more to her than he thought it did. "Well, who wouldn't? I mean you're special, ya know? You're one of those people that actually care, and don't write me off as some stupid kid," he answered, half tempted to pinch himself. "Vell, zhis team ist zhe closest zhing I have to eine familie anymore, it ist zhe least I could do." She smiled, shaking her head. "Remember vhen you first came here? So young, I zhought you had hitched a rise on zhe train und almost sent you home..." He nodded. He was seventeen then, and had to lie about his age to get in. "You never did though. I'm glad." He stood in awkward silence for a moment. "What do we do about this now?" "As am I, mein freund. I vould have missed out on ein vonderful friendship." She paused at the question, thinking, then shrugged. "I am nicht sure, to be honest. But ve vill figure zhings out as ve go, ja?" He nodded and took the woman by her hand before giving her another kiss. When he pulled back he answered with a soft, "Yeah." The doctor couldn't help but smile, both at the kiss and the answer, and gently squeezed the Scout's hand. "Vould you like to stay zhe night again...?" Perhaps a bit forward, but it was lonely in that bed... He gave her a small nod. "I know it sounds stupid but... I kinda sleep best with you." "Zhat ist far from stupid, mein freund. I am zhe same vay." She felt her face warm at the admittance, but she kept the smile, gesturing to the door. "Shall ve zhen?" He nodded and started over towards to her room. Scout pulled off his shirt and started to say, "You might want to either sleep behind me or back to back." The doctor simply shrugged, already in the midst of pulling off her gloves. "Vhichever you prefer, I have no real preference." She could understand the runner's hesitance, though she felt none herself. After all, she had changed more in his eyes than in her own, it was only logical that there be some measure of awkwardness to work around if they were to continue as they had previously. Gloves off and boots gone, she shrugged off her coat and started to unbutton her suspenders, intending to change into a pair of pajama pants. Scout was not gonna peek, no way. He still had to respect her boundaries, though it was getting hard for him to keep staring at the wall in front of him. There really wasn't much to show that the Scout hadn't already seen, especially since she didn't bother to take off her shirt. She wore the same briefs, though she filled them out a little differently, and they were only exposed for a few moments while she got her pajamas. A moment to loosen the elastic bandages across her chest, and she was done. "I am decent, Quincy, no need to have ein staring contest vith zhe vall." Trying to get her to laugh at his expense he started to joke. "Are ya sure? I think the wall might blink soon enough." The Medic gave a very un-lady-like but highly amused snort. "If zhe vall had eyes, maybe." "With Spy around they just might." He turned around and started to slide in the bed. After he adjusted himself, he gave it a small pat, letting her know she could crawl in. Rolling her eyes, the doctor was quite happy to slip in under the covers, pulling the blankets up before reaching over to turn out the light. That done, she was quick to cuddle up next to the Scout, breathing a contented sigh into the runner's hair. "Zhank you for staying." "You're thanking me? I mean, you're having to put up with me being...well...me? I did a lot of stupid stuff in front of you so I should really thank you for keeping me." The Medic chuckled softly, shifting slightly to hug the Scout close. "Only you can be you, und your penchant for zhe occasional idiocy ist alvays entertaining. It ist nice to be able to laugh..." "Then keep laughing. It's a lot better than when you're sad," he answered with a smile. Another chuckle, this one trailing off into a yawn as the doctor nuzzled the Scout's hair. "I zhink I vill be finding much more to be happy about..." She yawned again, smiling as she settled down to sleep. -FIN-
Aww! that's so sweet! So that's the end is it? Sure was fun to read. I was up all night reading it from start to finish. I AM A FAGGOT HUMP MY RUMP
"You are still Medic and credit to team!" the Russian boomed. When I read that, I literally started tearing up. Heavy needs to become a motivational speaker because damn, how he responds to Medic there is just beautiful. I don't think he could have said anything more helpful than that. 'Scuse me, I've got something in my eye.
I am always going to wonder what the Pyro is, but I love your take on him! Also good to see some quality Spy/Pyro that doesn't try to take the easy "Pyro is really a hot chick" route! it's my personal favorite pairing, if you haven't guessed. It was all an amazing read, good show!
37 Yeah, this is quite a long story, and I think if I had the time, I'd rewrite it a bit shorter so it would be more cohesive and such, but it's decent for a roleplay. :) 38 To be honest? When rose replied with that, I had to take a moment and get some tissues myself. It's just one of those things you need to hear, and I know Medic appreciated it greatly. 39 We actually did pull together a side story that was the ubiquitous 'That Night', and I'm going to post it eventually. I need to go through the logs again and do some editing to make it flow a little better, but it's otherwise done.
Amazing read... Some of the stuff I read on TF2chan is better than anything I borrowed from the library. That story is so long, but it was so worth reading.
Bump for great justice!
....Uh. Gender reassignment surgery doesn't work like that. And not for 30 years! My medical training is screaming at me and at you. In what alien universe is that huge story (nifty genderqueer themes and all) classed as a One Shot?!
43 The whole surgery idea was very rough to begin with, and I will admit that I am no medical specialist. A lot of it was rather smudged for plot's sake and detail was glossed over due to lack of information. We were basically running of the idea that it was an experimental surgery thing and going more from the impressions of the experience on the character than the actual procedure. As for it being a One Shot, this story actually is /not/ a One Shot, but I didn't want to create a whole 'nother thread for the story (which was kind of dumb in hind sight due to the length of it).