Okay, I normally don't like to have two stories running at the same time, but apparently I have nothing else to do but spam this place with more Heavy/Medic crap. This'll get posted on Dumblr after the Butterfly Knife story is done. For now I'll just let it sit here and you guys can let me know what you think or what you'd like to see happening from one section to the next. Once again, I have only the vaguest notion of where I'm going with it, so I'm open to suggestions of what I can add in to make it better or more to your tastes. tl;dr Heavy is an intellectual, wat do. ------------------------------------------------------ PART ONE: IN WHICH THE VARIABLES ARE EXAMINED Heavy had a problem. This was above and beyond his usual slew of problems; the fact that most of his teammates regarded him as being rather stupid, the frankly terrible quality of their food (his complaints about which seemingly having no effect), Soldier's obvious hatred of him because he was staunchly communist, and a few other minor annoyances that he tolerated on a daily basis. No, this was a rather more intimate, cerebral problem, one that was posed to eclipse all others reasonably soon. It all came down to his own desires. He had long ago come to accept his own sexuality. Oh, they could call it wrong, but he was a man of reason; the idea of denying oneself the pleasures of the body over something as trivial as ingrained religious doctrine was a thing of the past – or, at least, it should be, in his estimation. Heavy had not once heard any argument against sex between two people of the same gender that did not eventually devolve into some reference to it being wrong according to some faraway deity. He would not be ruled by such silly notions, and since his college days, he had enjoyed the company of men and women equally, occasionally at the same time. Therein lay the crux of the matter, however. His enlightened view of the world was rare. It was a problem, though not an unexpected one in his experience, that he desire a man who preferred only women; on a team composed solely of men, he now found himself in that uncomfortable predicament after a mere week of getting to know them. The doctor had attracted his attention quite early. The rest of the team he unconsciously dismissed as being outside his tastes, but the tall German immediately piqued his interest. He was precise, efficient, and intelligent, with a refined taste in music and excellent manners; hard-working on the battlefield and off it, given to lecturing the team on proper hygiene and how best to care for their weapons. He certainly approved of the excessive attention that Heavy lavished on his minigun. He would make an ideal communist, in fact, if he had been born in Russia. Peeking at others in the communal shower was utterly juvenile, of course, but Heavy indulged himself in order to get a better look at the man. Medic was lean and well toned, for all that he was a little older, with long, straight limbs and a faint scattering of grey in his hair. His manhood was a little smaller than Heavy's, which was not surprising, but he was well proportioned and treated his body like a temple. Curiously, he had a tattoo just above his hip of the Rod of Asclepius – Heavy would have thought it out of character for him to mark his body so, but as it was the symbol of a healer... Yes, he could be a very suitable lover. If they spoke each other's respective languages, Heavy also had no doubt that he would enjoy discussing fine art and literature with him as well; alas, he could only communicate in English, and it was a horribly coarse language that he hadn't bothered to learn much of. Still, there were greater concerns at hand. Medic was not interested in men, and Medic was married. His wife was staying in the nearby town while he was stationed at the base. Heavy pondered this late at night, after he finished another chapter of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's latest novella (a promising if controversial author, he thought, certainly worthy of more attention) and sipped his evening tea. There was always the option of trying to take him by force, but such a thing was abhorrent, vulgar, and ultimately counter-productive; no, if Medic were to come to his bed, it would be willingly or not at all. And so the question remained: how could he cause this to happen? Would it be possible to seduce the doctor? Heavy smiled. He had the beginnings of a plan.
I loves me some intellectual heavy. So far this looks interesting. I like the potential problem of Medic not only being married but his wife being nearby (that's a new one to me).
oh my, this is just...wonderful! its short which is disappointing but it keeps us wanting more right? Doktor you never disappoint do you!? cant wait for the next part.
Of course there will be more. But I'm serious when I say I want your input - I'd like to try to write a story with suggestions or ideas from the community at large. Hence, I want to know if there's anything you lot would like to see or that you think would be an interesting addition to the story. Command me and my fearsome writing talents!
smart!Heavy is my favorite Heavy, and I look forward to seeing more of a story written from his point of view. My only suggestion, and one that you may be looking into already and that I utterly can't help with, (though, I do have a list of non-Russian artists and authors that I like to imagine various members of the team would like) would be to familiarize yourself with Russian lit.
Oh jeez, Doktor, another? You've already got me hooked on Butterfly Knife, and now I'm pretty sure this one will keep me coming back as well. Goddamnit, man. How dare you add to my list of things to keep up with. Anyways, I really don't see anything I can offer in the way of crit... sorry for that. Your intellectual take on Heavy is great, and I can't wait to see how your Medic is portrayed. Keep up the good work, I suppose.
Not a bad beginning and I like this new angle for what might keep them apart. I think I would really like for Medic's marriage to be a good one. Not lovey-dovey or cold and distant but something comfortable and organic. They're not perfect but they don't bicker constantly either. I would especially love this to turn into a three-way since Heavy has already stated he'll sleep with both sexes and at the same time. Extra awesome if she's a red-head, given Poker Night at the Inventory. Honestly? With the way this is sounding, I really like the concept of it turning into a proper Ménage à trois. Not certain of ideas for how Heavy can get that started. Perhaps Spy's sex-life is discussed and Scout asks him if he ever had one of those, since Spy is French and it's a French term, while Heavy and Medic are hanging around. Then Heavy asks what Medic's general opinion on such is, which could be whatever gives the plot more interest. I think it'd be kind of funny if Medic's wife had been mentioning the idea of a threesome for a few years and had recently brought it up again, given all the men at the base with Medic, but Medic says he's been trying to talk her into a three-way with another woman instead and Heavy decides to give him some practical advise. Also, I think it'd be so awesome if Medic and Heavy have a little conversation where they both express mild displeasure at how their English hardly compares to their respective native languages and how they feel a bit stupid whenever they use English because they know it well enough to know they don't sound nearly as smart as they truly are when using it. After that they decide to share a little of their own languages, teaching a bit to one another, but don't go all out because they know it would take a lot more time than they want to invest currently. Would love it if Medic's wife is also pretty smart and Heavy takes a sincere liking to both of them.
Very interesting start... I always love seeing intelligent Heavy. I can't say that I really want to see Medic's wife involved as much as the last reply, but it would be a refreshing change to see his relationship with her not as bad as what's normally portrayed. Could go either way with that, really. I'd kind of like to see Medic feel guilty after being involved with Heavy. Looking forward to your portrayal of Medic in this one.
I must admit that I kind of like the idea of Medic's wife being a beard. I see one of those marriages of convenience/safety...a situation where they're close friends, but not lovers. Vita Sackville-West and Harold Nicholson had a marriage like that, where they both had same-sex lovers on the side. I would love to see something like that--a loving, genuine relationship with Mrs. Medic being a dear, trusted friend but ultimately a beard, because Medic isn't into the lady-types. (Which would then pull in a possible affair, if Demoman is to be believed on the subject.) Just a thought.
What anon #7 said. I've seen bitchy/cold medicwife too many times. It's nice but a decent marriage would be fun to read. Especially to see what would Heavy do.
I agree with Anon7 as well...
Hot damn, you just keep coming and coming. Yay. I like Intellectual Heavy, Heavy is good that way. Now, as for suggestions, all I ask is to not make it...rapey. Like, try and have Heavy be absolutely sure Medic would be willing to go through with something like this, before trying anything too aggressive. I mean, especially if he's going all secret on this.
Captcha: Het setsmand I think Captcha agrees with us. I'm Anon #7 and I just wanted to say that while I still like my idea of a threesome, if Ze Doktor wants to run with the beard idea then I would be equally happy, as long as Medic's wife ends up in a wonderful affair with Demoman. Alternatively, Medic's wife and Miss Pauling having a wonderful affair would work as well. Actually, you know what? ANYONE with Medic's wife since, at this point in time, we have no idea what she is like and who she would fall for would really depend on her personality. I just want her to be happy since it's so rare that she is.
Anon#13: Perhaps the Demoman can take care of a few things in that department?
Anon#9. Sweet mercy, Medic's Wife and Miss Pauling would make my life worth living forever. If that happens, I may never die.
I'm taking note of everything as I write, and I'll toss in as many nods to different ideas as I can without contradicting myself. So keep the ideas flowing :P I can't tell you when I'll use them, only that I'll try to include as much as possible. ------------------------------------------ PART TWO: IN WHICH THE FIRST OBSTACLE IS REVEALED There were several possibilities open at this point. Medic might be persuaded to have an affair, with or without his wife's knowledge; he might leave her entirely; or she might be encouraged to join in. Heavy was inclined to disregard the final option, unfortunately. He knew nothing of the woman in question, but the doctor didn't seem like the type to be that adventurous in bed. Although he thought it quite likely that he could be brought around to the idea of sex with a man, Heavy suspected that the suggestion of a ménage à trois would be too much, too soon. It was a little early to discount it, however. Much would hinge on the character of Medic's wife. If there had been children as well, he probably would not consider this attempt at seduction at all due to the risk of further complications, but as it stood, he was willing to try and see what the result would be. And so he found himself in Engineer's truck, speeding along the dirt road that lead from their base to the local town. Medic was squashed in beside him, checking a list of things they needed to get from the store. Heavy had professed a desire to patronize the bar, and Engineer had been all too happy to join him once the shopping was done. Medic, of course, wanted to visit his wife. “What time we meet you at bar?†he asked over the roar of the engine. Medic pursed his lips. Such an endearing gesture, Heavy thought. An enticement to kiss them, if anything. “I zink only an hour after ve are done viz ze shop,†he replied. “I vill go to see Ilse, und ve vill come vhen she is ready.†“Is good.†Heavy fell silent for a moment, carefully considering his choice of conversation, and the possible information he could gather. “Doktor is ver' lucky, to have wife so close.†“You got that right, big guy,†Engineer chimed in. “My girl's still back home in Texas, an' she ain't the sort to jus' up and move every time I get assigned to another base. I gotta say, I miss her like nothin' else.†“Ja, I am fortunate to haf Ilse,†Medic said, smiling a little. “She has followed me everyvhere since I joined ze BLU company. I vish I could visit her more, but my vork takes up much time.†“Doktor does not visit every day?†Heavy asked, nudging him playfully. “Nein, I cannot – it is an hour to drive, und I haf no car. Also zere are many reports to do in ze evening vhich cannot be delayed.†He shrugged. “Such is ze vay of zings. Ve are boz used to it.†“Must be hard, still. Go see on weekend maybe?†Medic shook his head, and folded up the list to tuck it into his pocket. “Sometimes I can only see her vunce every two or zhree veeks because I am too busy. It is annoying, but ze money is vorz it. Vhat about you, Herr Heavy? Do you haf ein liebhaberin vaiting for you in Russia?†Heavy laughed. “I do not. Sascha is only wooman for me!†They all chuckled, and the conversation wandered elsewhere. Heavy was quietly deliberating over what he had learned, however; Medic only saw his wife occasionally, and this arrangement was normal? That did not bode well for the state of their relationship. Perhaps German women were a different breed, but Russian females were lusty and hot-blooded creatures who would not be satisfied with so little attention. He became even more curious about Ilse. A few hours later, he was sitting outside the bar with Engineer and enjoying a pint of what apparently passed for quality beer in these parts. Heavy had to resist the urge to call for whiskey or vodka or even wine. It would probably not be much better, and he thought it a sensible option to keep his more obvious refined tastes hidden for now. Playing the part of a simple brute seemed to help people relax around him. The evening sun was pleasant, and the Texan was polite company at least. He was more than happy to chatter on about his home and his family, and Heavy was content to listen. He still had to get used to Engineer's odd accent, and any opportunity to pick up a little more English was welcome. They were not waiting long. Heavy had only finished half of his drink before he spotted Medic approaching with a slim figure on his arm. She was half a head shorter than the doctor, with a narrow face, expressive green eyes, and artfully styled red hair. She was very pretty, in fact, and younger than he had expected; at a guess, she could not be more than thirty. Heavy might have liked her himself, but she was just too small. He preferred his partners to be closer to his own size, if only so that he would not crush them in bed. They stood as Medic and Ilse approached. Engineer pulled out a chair for her, showing that he knew something of courtesy despite his small-town upbringing. She took it with a nod and a smile as Medic introduced them. “Zis is Engineer, und Heavy – two of ze ozzer mercenaries at my base. Meine Herren, zis is Ilse, my dear vife.†“Howdy, ma'am – hope you're enjoyin' this lil' slice of America,†Engineer said. He waved at a waiter to order some more drinks, and looked around for another chair for Medic. Heavy bowed as gracefully as he could, and gently kissed her hand. “Pleased to meet, Ilse,†he said, and smiled warmly at her. “I see Doktor ver' lucky man, to have such beautiful wife.†He watched her blush, and picked up on the fact that Medic did not react. It could easily be construed as polite flattery, but Heavy expected to see some hint of guardedness in response to what was essentially a flirtation with his woman. He saw nothing, which suggested their relationship was either very trusting or not quite what it seemed. They all sat, and the conversation resumed. Heavy was content to observe as much as possible. She was a student of language, it seemed, and spoke English flawlessly in comparison to Medic's thickly accented speech. Her eyes frequently went to him as she spoke, despite her reserved demeanour, and she often touched him on the arm or shoulder for emphasis as she talked. Heavy could see it in her eyes, too; Ilse cared for her husband, although to what extent, he did not know. What would she think, he mused, if she knew that the broad, virile Russian man sitting across from her was planning to steal him away?
Oh man stuffs starting to happen! Hmmmm I cant really think of anything to critic on this story... All I can say is... Good job!
I really hope Heavy can make it into a threesome.
I love all the observation and perceptiveness (woo mystery novels!); I always find those a joy to read, and from Heavy it's even better. Though honestly, can't say I am excited about Medic's wife being involved bedroom-wise, but I would gladly read whatever you wrote either way. Can't wait!
Great update. Hot damn, I never knew I could love smart Heavy so much. And Anon #7/13 - yessss love the ideas
First reaction: Ewwww girl. Ewww wife. EWWWW. Second reaction: Heavy trying to steal Medic away? Okay.. I think this may be good.. Final reaction: MUST FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS.
Agreed with #19. Your writing is excellent; looking forward to more of it.
I really like the direction this is going and definitely adore smart!Heavy. At some points I think his intellectual quirks are a bit exaggerated though - but I don't know if it's just me. Maybe it's that Heavy himself clearly seems to acknowledge being above everyone else. It's a bit disturbing, and I'm not sure if it fits at least the canon Heavy's hearty personality. I think that the writing style and choice of words could be almost enough in themselves to portray him being an intellect. But that aside, I can't wait for more! :)
Yeah, I'm writing him with something of a superiority complex. It's intentional, trust me, but probably not fitting with the canon. Sorry. If people really want stories that are absolutely faithful to the setting, they probably shouldn't read my stuff. I will disregard it at will if I think it makes for a better plot or whatever.
Once again I am breathless. The sheer thought of an intelligent mind going on behind Heavy's thick scull, is BRILLIANT. Love it! More, please, my good Doctor.
Ze Doktor, it's not like TF2 has deeply ingrained canon anyway. I mean, it involves two sets of complete clones all over the world killing each other. I think alternate character development is accepted just fine.
"miquir rietmeijer" - I think ReCaptcha is insulting me in Swedish. I DO NOT WRITE IKEA PORN DAMMIT! NOT EVEN WHEN I HAVEN'T SLEPT! Tirrrrrrreddddd.... -------------------------------------------- PART THREE: IN WHICH A FUNDAMENTAL TRUTH IS DEMONSTRATED Ilse proved to be astute and enjoyable company. She spoke English, French and Polish fluently, and although her Russian needed a little work, she was still the closest Heavy had come to a native comrade in at least six months. He even had the chance to speak to her alone when Engineer had to chase down the waiter to get their bill, and Medic went to use the restroom. “This must be very strange for you, to move around so much in a foreign country,†he said. “Has the Doctor ever considered settling down somewhere, or returning to Germany?†She chuckled, hiding her mouth with her hand. “Oh, I apologize – sometimes I forget that you are not allowed to know each other's names. It always seems so odd, no matter how many times I meet my husband's teammates.†He smiled, and laughed with her. “Yes, it is a little silly.†“He is so caught up in his work that I doubt I could persuade him. And we are very well provided for, of course. The Builder's League has been very generous to us, and to me in particular.†Ah. It was only a hint, but Heavy was observant enough to discern the brief flash of resentment at the mention of Medic's research. It seemed his first hypothesis was at least somewhat correct; the good Doktor was neglecting his lovely wife, even if he did not realize he was doing it. “It must be difficult to be kept apart from him so much,†he said gently, patting her hand. “I find it hard to imagine why he would be so involved in his work, when he has you to distract him from it.†More flirting. She smiled and blushed, as expected, and pulled her hand away. Its purpose was twofold; to gauge her reaction to other men, and to have her think about the injustice of Medic not paying her enough attention. It was quite clear, to Heavy at least, that she was faithful to the Doktor, and the slightly pained expression that she tried to hide behind the wine glass revealed her feelings on the matter at hand. The others returned. The drinks were paid for by the company, within reason. They would have to return to the base before it got much darker. There was another battle due to start in the morning, and a good night's sleep would do much to prepare them for it. The truck was parked nearby along with the essential groceries they had bought, and Heavy and Engineer said their goodbyes to Ilse before moving away to let Medic say his. Heavy sat in the cab, and watched them covertly in the side mirror. The Doktor could have stayed the night, if he was prepared to get up early and hitch a ride to the base in the morning. Ilse certainly wanted him to, from the way that she touched the front of his uniform and looked at him with such longing. But Medic was shaking his head and saying something earnestly, before taking her hands in his and placing a chaste kiss on her fingers. Heavy wanted to shake his head in resignation; honestly, what man would refuse his wife if he truly loved and wanted to be with her? He thought on that as they returned along the dusty road. Ilse seemed like a pleasant, intelligent woman, one he was inclined to view favorably in spite of her being a rival for Medic's affection. He felt sorry for her, and her frankly terrible situation. Women needed love, and comfort, and reassurance; beyond that, they were still human, and they had many of the same desires as men. She deserved someone who would give her all that without reservation, without excuses. Heavy, of course, would be happy with the kind of casual physical relationship that would not command much of Medic's precious time. He decided that, if he were to attempt to disrupt his friend's not-so-happy state of matrimony, he should find a new suitor for Ilse who would treat her far better than Medic did. Considering how long he knew the Doktor had been with the company, she was certainly due a little more happiness.
He decided that, if he were to attempt to disrupt his friend's not-so-happy state of matrimony, he should find a new suitor for Ilse who would treat her far better than Medic did. MMMMM DO I SENSE SOME DEMO ACTION ABOUT TO TAKE PLACE? Do ho ho - I can hardly wait. >>21 I can't explain why this annoyed me as much as it did, but it did. I mean, GROSS A WOMAN. THEY'RE LIKE, WALKING VAGINAS WITHOUT FEELINGS AND JUST WANT TO GET IN THE WAY OF SWEET, SWEET necrophiliaZ. Maybe I'm over-reacting. I probably am, considering the time of day and my state of mind and the fact that I just recently got doped up because my mouth is still killing me. But I'm still watching you. Continue please, Doktor. In the meanwhile, I'll try to stop being such a lazy ass and do something for my crappy story, too.
Gorram it, wordfilters. Gettin' in the way of me saying that certain term coined for drawing of pretty-boys hassing hawt sexin'z. You stop that. Why is everything so funny to me aaaaugh.
This damned site has made it so "Doktor" looks like a perfectly accurate and normal spelling. Other than that, I like where the dynamics are going for this...
i have this feeling i know who heavy is gonna have in mind but i wont say! no spoilers even if im dead wrong but i eagerly await to see who heavy is thinking of! im glad heavy thinks of her well, at least he is going to be polite about stealing her man away! i like that you made medics wife someone likable and kind...most would probably have gone "shes a bitch" route but yours is much more interesting to read about and makes the reader feel something about every character involved. i love medics wife is likable, i love that heavy is a kind thief and i love that medic is very clueless! pleas continue soon!
Captcha says rousing. I agree! I am happy to see how this is unfolding though I am sad if Ilsa didn't understand it was a marriage of convenience from the beginning. I hope she doesn't end up feeling too guilty about finding comfort somewhere else... or at least that Medic eventually helps to soothe it, intentionally or not. Also eager to find out how Heavy goes about the actual seduction of Medic. I'm not certain what to suggest myself. It would also depend on what exact relationship Medic has with his wife. Is he gay or is he simply bisexual and very repressed/workaholic? The scene with her asking him to spend the night makes it so I don't know for certain whether he is using Ilse as an unwitting or a knowing beard (and therefore she was simply looking for friendly comforting.) What does Medic do in his free time when he's just relaxing? Does Medic tend to spend his time alone or does he enjoy hanging out with the team? Is Medic close friends with any of the team? I like the idea of him playing chess with someone, likely Heavy or Engineer. Perhaps Medic is a workaholic and it isn't easy getting him to join in the fun. When he does show up outside his office to hang out, it's less the stress and more a touch of loneliness that brought him to them. Maybe Engineer is the same way and explains as much to Heavy. What does Heavy like doing? Reading obviously but maybe he could try coaxing Medic into something more physical (sporty?), with the other guys, and see how he reacts to that, especially if he touches him a little more than usual. If Medic is willing to agree to it in the first place. It would be funny if Heavy found out that Medic had actually hit on one of the guys before, sometime ago, and it failed horribly so he never wants to speak of it again. Don't know how that would work out for the story though.
>maybe he could try coaxing Medic into something more physical (sporty?), with the other guys, and see how he reacts to that, especially if he touches him a little more than usual. AAAAH SUCH THINGS I HAVE PLANNED. Fucking hell I'm so tired. Give me more ideas.
If you've seen Behind the Scenes of Meet the Medic on TF2's website, there's a video of Medic decapitating a spy and performing a blood transfusion between the corpse and Heavy, pumping the blood out of the dead body with his foot. I would love to see this moment immortalized in fic form.
>>34 Maybe so, but I personally don't think this is the fic for that. I mean it's Doktor's decision, but this fiction seems to be pretty standard as opposed to guro-related. Maybe you should check out the request thread instead?
...It's also nice having a story like this where the ol' ball-and-chain is actually depicted as a sympathetic character, (and is seen as such by the protagonist) instead of an unpleasant shrew or a faceless roadblock.
I'm joining the chorus of the others for approval of how you've written Medic's wife, and Heavy's positive interaction with her. >>28 's thought of Heavy setting her up with Demoman could be a mine of comedy gold. Though I'm not sure how Heavy would come by that through the means of his own logic. (But I guess he is a fun drunk, and the lady seems to need some 'fun'.)
Perhaps Demoman could express his interest in Ilse when Heavy mentions that he met her earlier that day? (While Medic isn't there, of course.) That would easily motivate Heavy to persuade Demoman to give it a proper go with her but also cautioning him to be careful and not to be too pushy in case Ilse isn't interested in return. It would, naturally, be easier if Ilse already had an interest in Demo and also entirely possible, especially if Demoman had been flirting with her for awhile and she simply hadn't given in yet out of a misguided sense of loyalty (or simply for fear the rest of the team would find out and mock Medic or else figure out why Medic was ignoring her.)
Heavy might've heard about Demo's affections through drunken rambling... And what if Demo is suavely sincere, and sort of sweeps Ilse off her feet? And what if he's also everything Medic's not a the moment-- attentive, a little more sensitive to Ilse's situation, &c.? And while Demo's busy serenading Ilse, Heavy might take a gander at Medic... oh, the possibilities. Doc, I am enraptured by your intellectual Heavy and his relationship problems. Captcha: casanova captcha would like some
>>34 Wat. >>38 >>39 Still taking notes here. :P
Anon #34 here. I can guarantee you that this is/can be made romantic.
Of course it can be made romantic. That isn't the point. What you are describing would be better from the Medic's POV (or even the Spy's perhaps) and this story is decidedly from Heavy's. It also has nothing directly to do with Medic's wife or Heavy's hidden intelligence, which are small but key focal points already established. I therefore feel it requires its own separate fic and probably wouldn't mesh well with this one. Mention it in the request thread and let it shine on its own, as it should.
PART FOUR: IN WHICH THE FIRST FORAY IS CONDUCTED Ilse was a problem, one that required a high level of careful finesse, but Heavy had more pressing matters to attend to while he formulated an overall strategy. All his work would come to nothing if Medic were not predisposed to like him at least, and that meant he had to gain the man's friendship and eventual trust. Socially speaking, this proved to be rather difficult. The Doktor was not given to spending time with the team after the day's battle, and even much of his weekend was taken up with medical reports or tests. Such was the nature of his schedule that he rarely had time to leave the base at all; in the first month, he only visited Ilse once more, despite regular trips being made by Engineer and Sniper. Heavy's heart ached to think of how lonely she must be. Abandoned in a strange country, and of a nationality that was a former enemy of the state, the poor woman could not have many friends or companions. He found himself growing rather annoyed at Medic for his indifference, even as he recognized that this clearly worked to his advantage. He decided that the best way to spend time with the Doktor was to be involved in his work. Their brief conversations at mealtimes or in battle were not really conducive to forming any great attachment; they were far too public, and filled with too many distractions. If he were to connect with Medic on any meaningful level, he would have to be interested in the one thing that absorbed most of his attention. Luckily, Heavy was no stranger to the nuances of academic pursuits – although the language barrier could be something of an issue. He found his chance to make the initial contact when Medic failed to show up for dinner after one heated day of fighting. The Doktor had pulled off an interesting trick – that of Ubercharging two people at once – and doubtless he wanted to catalogue the effects in full. Heavy took some leftovers and a cup of coffee, wincing at the blandness of the food and wishing he had something better to offer, and walked to the infirmary to see if Medic was hungry. He balanced the plate on his arm and knocked politely before opening the door. “Doktor, you are here? Hello?†The room was empty, but there was a muffled voice from the small office at the back. Heavy picked his way past the gurneys and boxes of records, and looked around the doorjam to see the object of his affections sitting at the desk. Medic stood up awkwardly as he entered, clearly unused to anyone intruding on his space. The only other chair was piled high with paper and binders, and his desk was awash with notes and lists of figures. Even the shelves groaned under the weight of medical textbooks, and other more esoteric tomes were stacked precariously around the floor. “Herr Heavy! I am zorry, if you vill excuse ze mess – I haf not time to clean up zince arriving here,†he said hastily, and began trying to clear the chair and some of the floor. Heavy chuckled and set the plate and cup down on top of his notes, his gaze taking them in as he did so – blood tests, probably provided by the Respawn system, and readouts of vital signs. “Is fine, Doktor. I bring dinner. Is bad you do not eat, da? Cannot do work with no food.†He pushed him away from the chair, and pointed at the meagre leftovers. “You, eat.†“Zank you, but I vas jus' going to go und get dinner myself – zere is no need to bring it to me.†Heavy laughed. “Is too late now. All eaten by team. Doktor not know what time is?†Medic looked at the clock hanging on the wall behind him, and gave a heartfelt groan. “Ach, nein, vhere do ze hours go?†He slumped back into his chair, and pulled off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose fretfully. “I haf zo much to do...†Heavy cleared the last of the papers, placing them carefully on the floor, and sat down. He nudged the plate across to Medic, urging him to eat. “Come, Doktor – eat before get cold. You work too hard, da? Must eat or cannot fight.†He left his glasses on the table, revealing very bright blue eyes, and took the coffee gratefully. Nothing more was said for a few moments as he ate the horrible leftovers with Heavy looking on approvingly. “I think Doktor need help,†Heavy began cautiously when Medic was finished and sipping the coffee. “Is too much for one man, maybe.†“Nein, I haf vorked alone for years,†he said. “I vill not impose on anyvun – zat vould not be fair. Besides, zis is all auf Deutsch – in German, I mean.†Heavy hummed knowingly to himself. “In Russia, is bad for man get no break, even doing important thing. Need support, even little. I can help if want – clean up, put book away, get coffee. Make work more easy, da?†Medic put his glasses back on. “You are very kind, Herr Heavy, but I cannot ask zat of you -†“Nyet, I do not mind. Is little I can do for Doktor heal in battle. You are credit to team – should have help where need. If anything I can do, have only ask.†He blushed at the compliment, and tried to hide it behind the cup. Heavy couldn't help smiling at him. It was one of those gestures that he did unconsciously; tiny things that made him so delightfully attractive. Medic was probably unaccustomed to much socializing or being given this much attention. He cleared his throat. “Vell... if you are sure, zis place does need to be tidied,†he said shyly. Heavy grinned, and collected the plate as he stood up. “Of course! I happy to help. Start tomorrow, so Doktor have time think of what need do. I promise do good job.†He debated on whether to linger and try to continue the conversation, but ultimately decided against it. He would have to get Medic used to his presence first, effectively as his assistant. “Doktor have good night – I see in morning.†He waved goodbye and left, making a detour to the kitchen to drop off the plate. There was enough left in the night for him to retire to his room, and spend a few hours considering his next step. This was a good start, but to solve the problem of Ilse, Heavy needed more information – and that would mean questioning Medic without raising undue suspicion. Time was key, of course. This would not happen overnight, nor in a month, or even longer still. No matter. He was prepared to be patient. Sooner or later, Ilse would have a new lover to fill her empty days – and he would have the Doktor naked in his bed, and begging to be taken.
Holy doly, i JUST looked at this and now it is updated! magic! this was a wonderful as every other bit of it! the last passage made me all warm inside! i Certainly hope its Demo man who charms Ilse...maybe Heavy notices Demo looking at a picture of a young red haired woman who was Demo mans previous love and is gone now? i dunno! very happy to see an update Doktor, wonderful as always mate.
How much do I love Evil Mastermind Heavy? So. So much. And yet, I hesitate to call him that even, as his master plan is so very far from evil. Thank you for making Mrs. Medic a real person. I look forward to how this unfolds.
So I'm running out of words of praise. No matter. Loving it as always. ALWAYS.
Dat last sentence. Oh jesus, Doktor; do continue.
Oh. Oh God yes this is fantastic. Ah the little blush hrghh so damn cute.
gah, spectacular update, as usual! Love it!
Mmmmm. I liked the chapter as it was, but that last line made me excited. Nice work. I think it's a good idea to work with intelligent!Heavy. It seems to come more easily to you than the Heavy of your previous stories.
That Heavy is an evil genius. I love him. And please oh please let it be a Demo that gets Ilse.
Tired of looking at this section. You guys can have it instead. ------------------------------------------- PART 5: IN WHICH A NEW FACTOR IS ENCOUNTERED Becoming invaluable to Medic was much easier than Heavy had initially thought. He was a typical academic, focused entirely on his work to the exclusion of virtually all else even in the heat of battle. He was not absent-minded, per se, but he did display a certain level of indifference to more mundane matters. Heavy could have brought any kind of food at all, and Medic would have eaten it without complaint or comment. Cleaning and organizing the infirmary was his main job, apart from making sure that Medic ate and slept normally. There was close to six years worth of obsessively detailed research stored in boxes of records and binders, describing the effects of the Medigun and the Ubercharge on combatants. Heavy had to ask what the point of it all was, one day. “Vell, somevun must do zis,†Medic said, while he helped Heavy carry the older boxes into the store room. “Ze Medigun has not been in service for very long, und its long term effects are not known. Zere is also ze possibility...†He trailed off, looking embarrassed. “There is what, Doktor?†Heavy was interested in spite of his unfamiliarity with the field of medical research. He shrugged noncommittally. “I haf suspected zat ze Medigun can be changed, and ze Ubercharge can do... ozzer zings besides shielding. Sometimes I zink I might be close to a breakzhrough, but... it is hard to say. It vas created by anozzer Medic on ze RED team, und BLU stole ze plans. Ve do not know exactly how it vorks.†“Be good for battle, da?†“Ja, of course, vhich is vhy BLU allow me ze resources to do zis.†It was an incredible prospect, of course, although Heavy had to wonder exactly what he had in mind for the Ubercharge energy. The possibility of using it in some offensive manner could potentially drive the balance of combat in their favor, and mean severe alterations to tactics and strategy in the field. He didn't say all this, of course. His English wasn't up to the task. He had other issues to deal with, however – first among them being the search for a new beau for Ilse. Heavy went with Engineer and Sniper to the town that weekend, ostensibly to help with the shopping again but really because he wanted to spend some more time around the local bar. There were several hurdles to overcome – the likely distaste of any American for a German, the fact that Ilse was married, the probable lack of any suitable men to begin with – but still, the bar was his most promising source for now. Early Saturday evening seemed like a reasonable time to investigate; not so late that there would be drunks around, but still late enough that there would probably be at least some regulars present. His teammates were all too happy to join him, especially when he insisted on buying the first round. Medic did not come, saying that he had to read over some notes and finish cataloguing the week's reports. Heavy offered to take a message to Ilse for him, but was quickly rebuffed. He would call her tomorrow instead – and he did call, Heavy had noticed. It was rarely more than a courtesy, a minute or two of softly spoken German monotone that he couldn't understand. Not much by the way of actual emotion. He made a mental note to find out what the German for 'I love you' was, so that he could determine whether either of them ever said it. The bar seemed suspiciously quiet when the three of them approached it. Sniper decided that he'd rather not sit outside, and entered before they could disagree. Heavy frowned in annoyance. He would have liked to be able to observe the passers-by as well as the patrons, but for now he was still playing the role of the big, dumb brute, and it wouldn't do to argue. He almost groaned in irritation when he saw how empty the place was. They sat up at the bar and ordered some beers, with Heavy trying to hide his swiftly worsening mood. Engineer seemed positively joyful that it was so quiet. “Ain't this the life?†he said, leaning on the counter. “Been on a few bases where there weren't anythin' livin' for miles around, an' that gets real old on the weekend when all a man wants to do is kick back an' relax.†Sniper drank the American beer with some distaste. “Crikey, this stuff's like bloody piss,†he grumbled under his breath. He gestured at Engineer with the bottle. “You should try livin' out in the bush. You relax out there and you're askin' fer something to poison you.†The Texan waved him away, and nudged Heavy. “Whaddya do in Russia to relax, then? Been meanin' to ask you sometime.†Heavy considered his response, and decided that the continuation of his current role would demand a certain level of crude language. He took a gulp of the beer and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, wincing inwardly at the taste. “Play chess, drink vodka, have sex with big woomen. Is like here but cold and boring.†The other two laughed at the idea of sex being boring, which lead to some friendly banter about the libido of Russians in general. Heavy played up the jokes, enjoying the fact that it put them at their ease around him. They got onto the subject of women just as Engineer tapped Sniper's shoulder and pointed towards the other end of the bar. “Hey boys, that down there look familiar to you at all?†Heavy glanced at one of the only other customers. The man was sitting at the end of the bar farthest from the door, wearing a red T-shirt and nursing a glass of whiskey. His skin was almost as dark as his black beanie. Something about him did seem rather familiar. “OI, YA RED TOSSER!†Sniper suddenly shouted, “I OWE YOU A BLOODY BULLET IN YER OTHER EYE FOR WHAT YOU DID TO MY BLOODY NEST LAST WEEK!†He leaped off his chair and charged at the man in a rage before either of them could stand up. As he looked up, Heavy realized it was the Demoman from RED – probably here for some rest and relaxation, just as they were. And Sniper was about to get into a fight, in the only place in town that served alcohol and probably the only place where he was likely to find the man of Ilse's dreams. He reacted quickly, chasing down the enraged Australian and pulling him off the Demoman before he could get a punch in. His superior strength made the action almost effortless as Sniper struggled and shouted at his enemy, who seemed all too ready to return the sentiment. “Ah'll knock yer teeth out, ye piss-swillin' gobshite!†he roared, and things quickly devolved into both of them trying to get past Heavy's bulky frame to get to the other. Engineer was distracted with placating the barman, who had already reached for the telephone to call the police. Thankfully, Heavy was no novice when it came to breaking up drunken brawls. He grabbed them both by the front of their shirts and held them out at arm's length, then shook them like misbehaving dogs. “ENOUGH!†he yelled, drowning out their snarling insults. “Is not time for fighting! If not stop, I throw you out onto face! UNDERSTAND?!†That seemed to have the desired effect. Sniper shoved his hand off, and stalked out angrily. Heavy let the Demoman go, and he returned to his whiskey with a sneer after he smoothed down his shirt. “Ye'd better keep a handle on yer mate there, boyo, or he'll catch a bottle in the head.†Heavy glanced back at Engineer, who had chased after Sniper, and the barman, who was slowly relaxing. He beckoned him over, and ordered another beer to reassure him that there would be no more altercations. After some thought, he tapped the RED on the shoulder as well. “You want drink?†The man looked at him in confusion. “Why the bloody hell would ye buy me a drink?†“Is weekend, da? No reason to fight, and this only bar in town. Barman not throw us out if think we good customer.†He sat down next to him, and pointed at his almost empty glass. “Hey – give bottle, please? Is fine now,†he said to the nervous barkeep, who swiftly complied. Heavy sat it in front of him, and picked up his own beer. “Yer bloody daft,†he said, but without conviction. He refilled his glass, and clinked it off Heavy's bottle in a toast. “Cheers, then. Here's to the war, an' all that.†He sounded rather bitter. Heavy took a drink thoughtfully. “What is name?†“Ye can call me Demo. Ye'd be Heavy, aye? Same as our one?†“Da, am call Heavy. I sorry for Sniper, he get angry for no reason. I know is not personal.†Demo shrugged. “Makes no difference to me. 'Tis jus' the job, ye know? Although ah'm gettin' more sick o' doin' it every day at this point, ah'll tell ye that much.†He knocked back the whiskey and poured another measure. “I cannae get any more scrumpy in from home, either, so ah hafta come here to get a drink from now on. 'Tis drivin' me bonkers.†“What is scrumpy?†Heavy asked curiously. “Ye don' know?†Demo looked shocked. “'Tis the best bloody whiskey ye can get yer hands on, mate, come all the way from the highlands o' Scotland, no less! 'Tis strong stuff – put plenty o' hair on yer chest – but them bastards up in HQ won't send any more on account o' how it's tough to find, an' ah've only got another six months in mah contract.†“Ah, maybe should not be telling, hm? I am still BLU.†He gave that same dismissive shrug. “Dinnae care who knows, now. Ah'm no' comin' back an' they bloody well know it. This is just one way for 'em to make the rest o' mah time here miserable.†Heavy considered that. It was the kind of petty and vindictive action that characterized BLU as well, and confirmed for him at least that the two sides were largely interchangeable. He felt a little sorry for him, even though he was on the other side. “Is problem,†he agreed. “Drink here not good then?†“Nah. 'Tisn't the same.†Demo held up the glass and stared at it disconsolately. “This is about the strongest stuff they've got here, an' ye'd be laughed at if ye served it in Glasgow.†Heavy stared at his own beer, and thought of the native drinks of his home country. “This is bad too. Russian vodka is much better, taste better. Have kick like angry horse.†He still drank it, at least. He'd already paid for it. Demo chuckled at him. “Vodka, now there's somethin' ah haven't tried in years. Always thought yer lot'd hafta be pretty hard to drink that every Friday night. Ye could use it to strip paint!†They shared a laugh, finding some camaraderie in the common subject. Heavy found himself warming up to the RED. He seemed like quite interesting company at least, which was in marked contrast to their own Demoman – a confirmed drunkard with questionable personal hygiene who was perpetually in danger of being kicked off the team for poor performance. It struck him as quite odd that RED and BLU would hire someone so similar in nationality and appearance for the same job. He could only put it down to some bizarre sub-clause in whatever agreement they had for the rules of engagement. Heavy was suddenly struck by an unusual thought. “What are planning to do, after contract is done?†he asked. The look of bitterness returned to the other man's face. “Ah'm no' sure. Ah were plannin' to go back home, buy a castle somewhere. Got plenty o' money outta this job, ye know?†He sighed, staring into his glass again. “Ah want to settle down. Ah'm well past gettin' tired o' this life, an' ah got enough to retire, so...†“Is problem?†“Aye, ah've got a problem alright,†he said, looking over at Heavy in exasperation. “Dunno if ye noticed, but ah'm a black Scottish cyclops, mate. Ah don' exactly have the wimmin beatin' down mah door. 'Tis hard to make plans fer a wife an' a couple o' bairns when ye have no prospects.†Heavy considered this, the shape of this unusual thought growing in his mind. He looked Demo over critically. He was fit, being a mercenary, and, well, good-looking in a way that didn't really appeal to Heavy personally, but certainly acceptable. The eyepatch suited him. More importantly, he could offer a stable, comfortable home to a woman, and he wanted a family. There were greater questions of whether he and Ilse were compatible on a personal level, but Demo seemed like a strong contender. Heavy felt quite pleased that he had discovered a potential mate so soon. He gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder, and poured another measure of whiskey into his glass. “Ah, is not big problem – many woomen in world, da? Is someone for everyone! You will find, some day.†He raised his beer, grinning at Demo while the other man raised his own drink in a puzzled toast. “To future wife – may she be beautiful, and give many leetle babies!â€
Yes, yes, YES! I am so excited reading this. Go demo, go. There really needs to be more demo love in general.
This is so relevant to my interests I can't even. Do go on, Doktor, this is wonderful!
Its always worth the wait Doktor! cannot wait to read more even if there is a long wait!
You write Scottish even better than you write German. It's very natural sounding-- I love it!
I'm really enjoying this story, Dok -- thanks for sharing it with us!
ooh I'm really digging this story. I don't really have anything to say to criticize!
I am loving this story so so much. Also I love Demo you write him so well! I'm very excited.
Oh, fantastic, again, Doktor. You're incredible. I cannot wait for more.
PART 6: IN WHICH THE PLAN IS DEVELOPED Heavy had taken it upon himself to properly organize all of Medic's research. It entailed learning a few words of German and a lot more English, but he was confident that he would be up to the task. Academics was largely the same regardless of the language used. It was a boring job, unfortunately. It was the kind of thing that he had done during his post-graduate days in Moscow, that he had been looking forward to offloading onto some research assistants when he finally gained a teaching position. BLU had intervened before then, and the offer had been too lucrative to pass up. Just a few years as a mercenary, and he would be able to buy his way into any professorship in the world. To alleviate some of the monotony of cataloguing, he had brought his own treasured record player into the main infirmary and set it up in the corner. He had a selection of classical music and jazz; light and pleasant listening, good for the spirit. This was also something of a surprise for Medic, who seemed chained to his office desk when he wasn't sleeping or fighting. Heavy suspected that he would like Vivaldi quite a bit, if only because he played the violin. His personal favorite was a medley record that varied from energetic waltzes to soft, slow instrumental pieces. Heavy slipped it out of its sleeve and placed it carefully on the turntable, then lifted the needle to the first row of tiny, black ridges. The Waltz of the Flowers filled the room, bringing back fond memories of the ballrooms of home and when he first learned to dance without feeling self-conscious. It never failed to make him smile, and conjured up warm, happy feelings. Heavy picked up the sweeping brush and had to resist the urge to spin across the floor with it. “Heavy?†Medic appeared at his door, drawn out of his shell by the music. He looked curiously at the device, a shy smile playing across his lips. “Vhere did zat come from?†He swiftly leaned the brush against the table, and pretended that he hadn't been thinking about waltzing with it. “Is mine, Doktor. Also records. Make work easy if have music to hear. You like?†He held out the cover with the song list, and Medic came forward to take it. The Doktor shrugged helplessly, and chuckled under his breath before handing it back. “I cannot read Russian, mein freund.†Heavy laughed. “Sorry. Forget. Is all good, I promise. Tchaikovsky, da? You know of him? Ver' famous in Russia, ver' nice for dancing.†“Ja, of course! I do enjoy his vork – not dancing, I mean, only listening.†Medic looked at him sheepishly. “I never learned vhen I vas younger.†Heavy looked a little surprised, while his mind began to churn through this new information. He could use it, oh yes, but his first thought was that if Medic could not dance, then Ilse likely did not either. He felt mildly irritated by that; their relationship was subdued, obviously, but this was simply ridiculous. What man would not dance with his wife? It begged the question of how Ilse had remained faithful at all. It was possible that she hadn't, and was simply good at maintaining the facade of fidelity. If that were the case, he would simply have to find proof and use it to drive a wedge between them – carefully, of course, as Ilse could not be blamed for seeking comfort elsewhere and he would not let her suffer any more than she had already. Something to think about for a while at least. In the meantime, he could fish for a little background on their marriage. He leaned on the counter and crossed his arms. “Is strange to me – you do not dance? In Russia, man must dance at wedding with new wife, so must learn or look like fool. Is not same in Germany?†Medic looked a little embarrassed. “Vell, ve had a very small vedding. Ve vere young, und ve could not afford anyzing bigger, und I vas offered a research position in Hamburg zat I had to take up immediately. I vas never required to learn.†“Must learn sometime. Is useful to know, I think.†“Oh, I zink I haf ozzer zings to do viz my time now,†Medic said, waving him away. “Zere are more important matters in life zan dancing, Heavy.†He strolled back to his office, humming the tune under his breath. Heavy watched him with exasperation, and went to the storeroom to begin working on the boxes of binders. It seemed clear that Medic was largely oblivious to Ilse's needs beyond the most basic material concerns. Whether it was intentional or not was debatable, and nothing would induce Heavy to ask him outright if he truly loved her. There were several possibilities at this point, most of which hinged on the Doktor's feelings. He was sure that Ilse's affection for her husband was real if nothing else. He mused on that as he took down the first box full of binders. The more he thought about it, the more he became convinced that Medic did not love her. Although most of his adventures had been casual rather than emotional, Heavy knew what true romance felt like; that aching, desperate need to be close to another person, as if their presence – their love – were the only thing worth having in the whole world. Medic's world, in comparison, was consumed by his research, and Ilse held only a small part of it. The question of whether she could love another man in spite of what she felt for the Doktor was easily settled. Women were malleable creatures, in Heavy's experience. They followed their hearts with much less difficulty than men, and they knew by instinct where they would find happiness. He had no doubt that she would respond favorably to a determined, appropriate suitor. Demo had said that he would be at the bar every weekend while RED continued to deprive him of his whiskey of choice. So... two concerns presented themselves; that of striking up a friendship with him, and that of finding a way to bring him and Ilse into contact with each other. The results would determine his next course of action. The Blue Danube by Strauss began to play, and Heavy paused for a moment to conduct the first few bars with one of the binders. He suddenly had an interesting thought – if the Doktor became completely comfortable around him, could he possibly suggest teaching him how to waltz?
yes. a thousand times yes. Heavy must teach medic to waltz. Danke for the update! Cant wait for more already!
It's been said before, but I just love how you regard Ilse in this story. It makes me so happy that her feelings not only matter, but are actually a primary concern and plot point. I SO look forward to Heavy setting his plan with Demo into motion.
Heh. This is the second story you've had dancing, yes? I take it you like it quite a bit, eh?
Guys, stay with me for a moment. I had the most horrible picture in my mind. You know those jackets with letters on them that jocks wear (what is sports?)? Okay, Heavy and a bunch of anonymouses were wearing them and cruising around and Medic was there, wearing teenage girls's clothes. Heavy was so cool that Medic looked up and blushed. A little later, one anonymous said, "Go for him; he's totally into you." Another said, "Yeah, ask him out to the dance." I just imagined tf2chan: The high school movie.
YES. Ohmygod dancing is just. I think it's one of the most romantic things for two people to do together. I love the update, too. Naturally. Also, I just felt the need to say once again, I love how much of an intellectual Heavy is. He's quite the multifaceted gentleman. Cannot wait for more. Cannot wait for dancing. Keep it up, mein liebe.
>>64 Yeah, I just get a kick out of dancing. It's one of those things that can be anything from a little bit intimate all the way up to one small step away from sex. Such things I have planned. Heh. >>65 If someone is brave enough to draw this, I promise you I will write it and give you the choice of either a Sweet Valley High or a 90210 ripoff.
Seriously? Besides Cat Bountry saying that my idea was cool for something, that is the nicest thing someone on the internet told me.
(sort of because Cat Bountry is my internet idol) Anyway, Alright, not very good, but better than nothing. Maybe something to look at until somebody actually draws it. http://tf2chan.net/workshop/res/2427.html also, I draw good so someone might want to see. it was fun. why is anonymous with hat? is it because acheivement: HIGH SCHOOL? why didnt medic and heavy get hat? I just don't care about grammar any more. ((captcha: welove lamb. I refer to "The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway" sometimes as "The Lamb" and I love it. But "Foxtrot" is probably my favorite. Early Genesis rules; Later Genesis drools. In my opinion.))
HAH! You have pleased me with your offering, good sir. Make your choice - I shall write a story as you specify. Hrm. I suspect this will require more than one section. Once Butterfly Knife and this story is done, I have a few one-shots to post and then I will start on this high school insanity.
Actually female, but I like "sir" better than "ma'am." Okay, don't know either, but judging only from the openings, 90210. Also, could you use the term "going steady" in any context? This may be the only good high school AU. Thank you so much. You are nice!
This story will be some of the weirdest shit ever seen in the fandom. And now I have to go look up the plot and characters of Beverly Hills 90210, and somehow relate this to TF2. (FYI, I reserve the right to bend or break EVERYTHING to make this work, up to and including paranormal stuff and aliens.) Must... resist... urge... to cackle...
Do want lots moar D:
Could this possibly get any more relevant to my interests? Maybe, but if it did my brain would probably explode. Intellectual!Heavy and the waltz, two of my weaknesses...
Up to my eyeballs in Heavy/Medic story ideas. MY EYEBALLS I TELL YOU. I'm gonna have to get some ideas for other pairings, but something about the big giant Russian mercenary + the evil German mad doctor just calls to me, and my boner. Anyway, here's the next part of whatever the hell this is. I'm tired of staring at it. --------------------------------------- PART 7: IN WHICH THE STARS ARE CROSSED Events drifted on. It took Heavy almost two weeks to meticulously catalogue everything in the storeroom, but Medic was certainly impressed with his diligence. The German's initially reserved manner began to fade as Heavy talked with him, joked about the team, and related stories of past battles. He was easily embarrassed, it seemed, and frequently became flustered when faced with Spy's witty mocking or Scout's blatantly tawdry remarks. Heavy's first impression – that the good doctor was not particularly adventurous when it came sex – had to be swiftly revised downwards when Medic blushed like a schoolgirl during a particularly heated discussion on stripteases. Engineer became another good friend to them both. His numerous Phds lent him a familiarity with academia that Heavy appreciated, and Medic enjoyed the company of another intellectual. The Doctor's chatter about his work usually went over their heads – his research was as much biological as mechanical, after all – but they both realized that sometimes, he needed to talk to get his thoughts in order. Besides, Heavy liked to listen. His work animated Medic in a way that nothing else did. The infirmary was still their domain, overall. Engineer had his workshop, and his own projects, even though he had expressed an interest in helping to modify a Medigun when the time came to test the results. Heavy spoke to him most often when they went to the bar on Saturdays. After some initial discomfort, and the liberal application of beer on Heavy's part, Sniper had accepted that Demo blowing up his nest was nothing personal. Once the threat of a fistfight had passed, Engineer warmed up to the RED as well, and the three became regular drinking buddies. It helped to break the monotony of the week, of course, when they could brag about their wins and lament their losses with a fellow mercenary who could provide the other side of the battle's story. By now, Demo's terrible luck with the ladies was both well known and a source of amusement or pity. “Look, boy, ya gotta start easy with a woman. Ya don't wanna scare her off or anythin' by comin' on too strong,†Engineer said, leaning back in his chair and gesturing at Demo with his beer. “I tell ya, they can smell desperation a mile away, and there ain't no way a lady's gonna get with a man who seems too needy.†The Scotsman glared at him, clearly unimpressed. They were sitting outside today, and taking advantage of the pleasant evening sun. “Tisn't that, ye dumb Yank – have ye not noticed where we are? This isn't exactly a hive o' multiculturalism! If there be any black women around, they're bloody well hidden, so ah dunno who exactly ah'd be talkin' to even ah were inclined to find a wife in this dump of a town.†Heavy frowned. “Is plenty woomen here. Where is problem?†“Nah, he's got a point there, big guy.†Engineer sighed, staring morosely up and down the street. There were very passers-by around at this time. “I forget sometimes... Ain't nothin' ya can do if ya got no horses in your corral to start with.†“How are horses woomen?†Heavy had already spotted the obvious conclusion behind the metaphor, but decided to play it dumb for now. Demo shrugged, and refilled his whiskey glass. His ability to drink alcohol with seemingly no ill-effects was astonishing; he had almost sunk half the bottle already. “Dunno how it is in Russia, but this be America, boyo. No white lass'd be seen with the likes o' me. Bloody stupid country – no offence, Engie.†“None taken.†The Texan was curiously liberal, considering where he had grown up, a fact which Heavy could only attribute to him being incredibly well educated. “Shame, though. There's plenty o' gals who'd jump at the chance to move to Scotland 'n' live in a castle.†Very much a shame, Heavy thought, but there was only one of them that he hoped would seriously. consider that prospect. He still hadn't quite thought of a mechanism for bringing them into contact, unfortunately, and the time limit imposed by Demo's contract coming to an end did not help much. He drank his beer and mused on it, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the sky while the other two chatted about families. “Enjoying the evening, Mr. Heavy?†A pleasant voice, speaking Russian, cut into his reverie, and he turned to see none other than Ilse. She wore a prim summer dress, covered in patterned red flowers to match her hair, and a broad hat to keep off the sun. A large folder was tucked under one arm, and she carried a bag of books. “Ah, hello, Ilse!†he said quickly, standing up and smiling at this incredible serendipity just as much as at her. Engineer and Demo stood up as well to be courteous. “Am sorry, must speak English. Is nice evening, da?†“Yes, of course. I did not expect to see you here, but I suppose you visit the bar every week?†He laughed and nodded, then tapped himself on the forehead. “Ah! I forget manners. You are knowing Engineer, and this is Demo from RED team.†The two men in question stepped forward. “This is Ilse.†Engineer tipped his broad hat at her. “Howdy, ma'am. Nice to see you again. I guess you're out for a walk on this fine day?†She chuckled behind her hand, and shook her head. “No, no, although that would be lovely. I have found a job, if you must know, as a French tutor.†She nodded to Demo. “Pleased to meet you.†“The pleasure be all mine, lass,†he said with a wide, slightly crooked grin. Heavy noted his glazed expression. Silence descended for a few seconds before Ilse bowed politely. “Well, I must be on my way home. I will leave you to your conversation. Good evening, gentlemen.†She left just as quickly as she had arrived, walking on down the street towards home. They all sat down again, although Demo twisted around in his chair and watched her until she vanished from sight. He finally turned back to Heavy and poked him in the arm. “How the bloody hell d'ye know a woman like that?†he asked, looking completely incredulous. Heavy couldn't help but feel a little offended at that, but at least it showed that the 'big dumb brute' act was working somewhat. Before he could answer, Engineer waved the question away. “She ain't on the market, partner. That's our Medic's wife.†“That uptight little bollocks is married to her?! Yer either pullin' mah leg or there's no fookin' justice in this world!†Heavy laughed to cover his triumphant smile. “Is true, Ilse is wife of Medic. He lucky, she is ver' pretty lady.†Demo scoffed indignantly. “'Ver' pretty',†he said mockingly, “Ah've seen plenty o' bonnie wimmin in mah life, mate, but this be the first time ah've met a goddess in the flesh.†He looked back again to the point where she had disappeared from view. “Bloody hell... 'tisn't fair, ah'll tell ye that much. Ah can only hope he knows how bloody lucky he is.†“Yeah... about that...†Engineer shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “He don't see her more often'n twice a month, or close enough.†Heavy looked at him sharply. Of course, it wasn't surprising that someone else had noticed the Doctor's neglect, but he had expected Engineer to be too polite to say anything. The other man took his expression for something rather different, and threw up his hands defensively. “I know yer thinkin' it, Heavy! You know he don't treat her like he should! It ain't right, the way he's always stuck in his damn office instead of comin' to see her!†He thought quickly. This was an unexpected development – again, rather serendipitous. If Heavy were inclined to believe in a god, he would have entertained the notion that such a deity were smiling on him today. Better to play it carefully, for now. “I say nothing,†he said slowly. “This not Russia, and is between Doktor and Ilse.†“Bullshit,†Engineer said angrily. “No woman should have to put up with her man ignorin' her. It ain't right an' you know it.†He settled into his chair, grumbling around the beer bottle. Demo slumped over his whiskey, looking more dejected than ever. “Someone like her with a man like him... yeah, 'tisn't right.†He sighed. “There dinnae be enough beautiful wimmin like that in the world. Ilse, yeah? She German too?†“Da, is German. Speak many language. Ver' smart, I think.†Heavy finished the beer, and glanced sidelong at Demo. “You like wooman like her, hm? Red hair?†“Aye, ah do. Somethin' about the eyes, too, but a lass with red hair always has fire in her soul.†He stared wistfully at his drink before knocking it back, then refilled his glass and took a gulp directly from the bottle. He looked so depressed that Heavy had to reach over and pat him on the shoulder. “Do not worry. Someday you have pretty wooman. Must have faith, da?†The barman had wandered out to collect the empty glasses, and after one look at Demo's face, Heavy asked for another bottle of whiskey.
please not a bump please not a bump IT'S NOT A BUMP! OK. Good. Plot is rolling along nicely, and for some reason, I really want to see Demo and Medic fight before Heavy patches everything up.
"...A lass with red hair always has fire in her soul.†AHAHAHA Keep up the great work.
Oh rapture, oh joy unbounded, there's more of this! That's right, Demo, set your eye on the pretty redhead... I will join Heavy in the mental fiendish hand rubbing and muttering of 'excellent'. (And I will keep my fingers crossed for future waltz lessons)
Love. Love. Love. I can't even wait to see where this goes.
Bonus - the theme song for this story is Pokerface, by Lady Gaga.
I love this story to Hell and back, but I have to say if there's one thing that bugs me to no end, it's the Heavy's characterization. I'm all for intellectual, evil genius, game-playing Heavy, but--unless maybe I'm just missing something--it really seems that that's all we know about him: he's smart and manipulative. He almost never has an emotional reaction to anything, beyond getting a little angry when his plans are muddled with and sometimes thinking the Medic is cute, and he barely ever does anything that doesn't directly relate to a premeditated purpose. Even something as romantic as waltzing becomes "oh, yes, I can use this to tactical advantage." Maybe I'm just not a perceptive reader, but he's starting to feel almost like a psychopath to me--coldly toying with other people just so he can get what he wants. Not to mention, his reasons for liking the Medic in the first place have been so barely explored that at this point it almost seems like an exercise in "because I can." That's not to say I don't like it, it does make for an interesting viewpoint, but somehow I get the feeling he's not supposed to be quite so… Tom Ripley. Again, maybe I'm just not picking up on something, but... I feel this could all be addressed by, say, a real, earnest conversation with Ilse that isn't so much for the purpose of gathering information or driving her away from Medic, or some solo time with him doing something not for the sake of impressing upon the reader that he's an intellectual. Or something that somehow indirectly involves the Medic, like he falls asleep working at his desk and Heavy has the opportunity to watch him, maybe delve into the reasons behind his affection/lust/whatever it is, even do something needlessly kind like fetch him a blanket... Anything to see something from him that isn't all cogs, gears and clockwork, if that makes any sense. That aside, I love this story dearly, from the Medic's bashful, socially awkward intellectual sort of characterization to the inclusion of Ilse and the portrayal of the minor characters like Sniper. Ultimately, whatever you do with the Heavy is up to you, the above is just a huge, messy, rambling suggestion. As long as I get more of your fantastic writing, I’m sure I'll be happy!
>>81 Maybe I'm just not a perceptive reader, but he's starting to feel almost like a psychopath to me--coldly toying with other people just so he can get what he wants. You're not the only one who noticed. I'm getting that vibe too. Heavy's making sweeping assumptions (that admittedly not out of the question) based on what he sees, and is already taking steps to break up a marriage without knowing the whole story, partly because he thinks it's the right thing to do, but mostly because he wants to get laid. At this point Medic's relationship with his wife could go either way. She could be a Beard, but there's also the chance that he does genuinely love her but is too conservative/a socially awkward, workaholic nerd to portray it. Heavy doesn't know for sure, and he's acting like he's just chasing tail. Generally when people actually try to play matchmaker shit gets VERY messy. Of course, if this is how you intended it to be, go for it, it's interesting. If not, be careful. If everything winds up going perfectly and everyone is hunky dory, that just seems completely contrived to me. I'm not a fan of perfect, fluffy romances in general, especially since Heavy/Medic tend to get shoved into such situations. I mean, this IS /afanfic/, so there will be sex, which is cool, if I was averse I wouldn't be here. But you've written an interesting story, and you shouldn't sacrifice that story just for porn. It all depends on how you write it at this point. tl;dr be careful, because I like this and want it to stay good. The characters are all very colorful and refreshing reinterpretations, even the minor ones. It's really got a lot of potential and I want to see more.
Thanks for the feedback - I do like to get thoughts and criticism from readers, even if it's not all sunshine and bunnies. All I can say is... trust me. I'm a doktor. :P
Permit me to humbly disagree, 81 and 82. The comparison to Tom Ripley is not entirely accurate, particularly since Tom Ripley was initially young, ambitious, and naive to a point. That's what got him into real trouble, after all. Logically, a story like this would have Heavy getting caught doing what he's doing and facing a different set of consequences aside from being forever alone. The Heavy is a more mature character and able to keep his focus. I think that's what keeps him appearing so calm. Overly emotional outbursts just don't fit with the character; it'd be like having a Spy suddenly throwing a tantrum. Although his initial intentions appear to be like he's just "chasing tail", it's clear that he's gone beyond that now. He has his focus, his purpose and he's sticking by that like it's his job. I do agree that he doesn't have the entire story yet, but I have a feeling that we'll at least get one side of it soon and surely both sides before any adult activities start occurring. Let's just sit back and watch the story unfold, shall we?
82 Here. >>83 You're welcome. It's early yet, so I still have faith. >>84 I wasn't making a comparison to Tom Ripley. Heavy's characterization has been consistent and well-done so far, and no, he shouldn't get emotional, but he is being cold and manipulative. His intentions are that he wants to have sex with Medic, and that getting his wife to be with someone else is means to that end. The only thing I was trying to point out to Doktor was that he needs to be careful not to make things too peachy. If/when the whole plot comes to light, I can't imagine anyone reacting kindly to knowing that their significant other was set up with someone else so the person doing the setup could chase after them. Hey, if this is handled right, it could be a really interesting and unconventional story, which is why I want to see more.
SORRY FOR THE BUMP. But...but... MOAR, for the love of god, MOAR.
Say it with me, children: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU Seriously. So many good stories, so many disheartening 'moar' bumps. Anomnomnom? You know that happy bubbly excited feeling people get when they think a good story has been updated? You just stomped on it. All those happy bubbles, plip plip plip. I hope is was worth it, you monster.
oh come off it, not all the happy bubbles are popped, bet there is at least one shy annon who hasn't read this yet. I sure as hell got happy bubbles back from re-reading this awesome story.
I must say I agree with >>88 though I know all about getting one's hopes up for an update and then becoming incredibly disappointed and frustrated. I always love anything by Ze Doktor, so finding this was nice. I hope it is updated soon.
Oh, man. Broke my heart. I had a huge smile on my face but then I saw BUMP and just. All of my dreams were CRUSHED. But this did deserve a bump, I will give you that, Anomnomnom. We patiently await an update, Ze Doktor.
Fear not, guys, I haven't forgotten about this story. But it will stay on hold until I finish Butterfly Knife. One thing at a time and all that. I'm still interested in what people think of the characters and where the story might be going. I did say I wanted community input on what's happening, remember. That hasn't changed. The comments here are really useful stuff.
Here's what I want to see, after reading everyone else's comments. I want Medic to be smart enough to figure out what is going on (eventually) or perhaps Heavy slips up and even though it's only a little, it's enough for Medic to put two and two together. And even though I'm not sure what Medic's situation with Ilse is precisely, so far, I'd love for Medic to get mad at Heavy for it, even if it isn't rage inducing anger. Of course, so far Heavy hasn't done anything that could be figured out but there is more story to be told. I do want them together in the end but I think it'd be interesting to see Medic telling Heavy to stay out of his personal life, if only because then Heavy is going to need some kind of response that won't make things worse (or maybe he could make things worse before making them better, as that'd be fun.) Not sure how to work any of that end but I'm throwing the notion out there.
this is coming along nicely, can't wait for more
You're giving something more here than just conventional two paragraphs, rapetiem, then the game's over. I like how you'd brought some of the other team members into the story, if only by mention, in part six. For a while there, it seemed like you'd forgotten about them a bit too much. I'd think it possibly too much of a comic element, but in Heavy's pursuit of Ilse being broken off from Medic, instead of Heavy being able to peak her interest in Demo, she actually becomes fond of Heavy. Your writing style reminds me slightly of Lynn Kurland's early work, which is nice (Romance novelist, inb4 mushy-gushy crap).
SAGE GOES IN THE EMAIL FIELD
Drillbot needs to chill out... seriously dude, chill.
I've been compared to Lynn Kurland. I can now die happy.
Even though Heavy's giving me the creeps with what he's doing, and Medic might not actually be gay (which would be pretty ironic after all that planning...) I love your writing and am intrigued to see what happens!
Ohai, someone else who knows of Kurland. This is surprising. Stardust of Yesterday FTW. And don't die just yet, we need an end to this, as well as Butterfly Knife :P
I love this fic really much so far, keep going! Intellect!Heavy is my new love right now. I'd also like him to do something a bit more daring with Medic that wouldn't necessarily risk anything, but it would test how the Doktor feels for Heavy, does he need more time or is he already holding a bit deeper interest in Heavy than them just being friends with each other. Or maybe this is just my curiousity, but I'd be nice if this would happen! There is so much potential in this story, and I'm really looking forward to the next part!
Hey guys. You miss me? Memo to self: do more editing. ------------------------------------------------ PART 8: IN WHICH FURTHER PLANS ARE MADE Heavy hummed as he sorted and filed a stack of reports in the infirmary’s little storage room. The record player was playing outside; a vague, tinny distraction. It was getting late, and this was his last task before bidding the Doktor goodnight and going to bed. His hands worked independently. His mind was elsewhere, considering, analysing, thinking. Demo was clearly the best choice. He was attracted to Ilse. He would provide her with a secure and comfortable life, and a family. He would treat her well – Heavy would see to that much, by whatever means necessary. Demo trusted him. He could encourage the relationship in small, subtle ways, with a clear proviso that dire things would happen if the Scotsman played false with her. But time, yes, time was a problem, because Demo’s contract was up in only a few short weeks. Could he count on Engineer’s help? Heavy shook his head pensively. No, Engineer was a good man. No need to bring him into such shady dealings. It was clear he disapproved of Medic’s treatment of Ilse, but there was no guarantee that that disapproval extended to condoning adultery. He was an American, after all. They had rather more prudish ideas about relationships. He would do this alone. The key would be to lead Demo to the conclusion that Heavy had already come to; Ilse needed a new husband, one who would give her the love and attention she deserved. If he could do that much, then it was likely that Demo would stay in town for a while, and then it would be a matter of how long Ilse would be able to resist the advances of another man who could offer her so much more than Medic could. He slotted the last report into a binder, and placed it back on the shelf. Delicacy, yes. He would have to be careful to avoid suspicion. Engineer could still be useful as a conduit, if he brought up the matter of Medic’s treatment of his wife with him. Let the Texan rage, as he had before, while Demo listened. Heavy could take the neutral position, feign ignorance of such things. They considered him simple-minded, in many ways. They would continue to think that. He switched off the light in the storage room and closed the door. It was almost midnight, by the clock on the wall. The light in Medic’s office signified that he was still there, still working. Heavy walked over, and paused in the act of knocking on the doorframe as he peered inside. Medic was slumped over his notes, chest moving up and down, head resting on his arm. The pen that had fallen from his fingers had leaked a little onto whatever report he was writing up. His glasses were pushed up out of the way, and he was quite clearly fast asleep. Heavy leaned on the doorframe and watched him for a minute, smiling to himself. Unusual to see him so completely relaxed, so much at peace. Medic was either the excitable scientist, or the resolved and professional doctor, or the awkward intellectual. Here, he was just a man. Tired, overworked by choice, but suddenly… vulnerable, in a way he had not been before. He could stay there and sleep in his chair, of course. Heavy stepped around the desk, reached out to touch his shoulder, and paused. On a sudden whim, he let his fingers trail through Medic’s hair, and down his neck. Soft, and warm. His palm came to rest on his back. He leaned over Medic and gently shook his shoulder with his other hand. “Doktor?†he whispered. “Is late, cannot sleep here.†Medic stirred, and lifted his head up dazedly. “Was…?†His glasses tumbled off onto his desk. Heavy caught and folded them, then slung one arm around him and helped him stand up. The glasses went into the breast pocket of his shirt. “Come along now, Doktor. Is time for bed,†he said gently. “Can finish in morning, da?†Medic leaned into him, yawning and clearly still half-asleep. He was heavier than he looked, and the contact of his body was pleasantly gratifying. He began to tip forward, and Heavy steadied him with one hand on his stomach. “Come now, should I carry you, hmm?†he said with a hint of a chuckle. That seemed to wake him up. Medic rubbed his eyes, and looked a little more conscious. “I… nein, I am fine. Es tut mir leid, Heavy…†He paused as another jaw-cracking yawn interrupted him. “I vill go myself. Can you…†“Da, I tidy up. Good night, Doktor.†He watched him walk out. He was surprised at how sharply he missed the pressure of another body against his as soon as Medic was gone. Heavy pushed in the chair and retrieved the leaking pen, and did his best to blot out the ink on the reports. The room seemed a little emptier and colder already. The last thing to do was turn off the record player. Heavy listened to it for a moment before lifting the needle from the record with a wry smile. It was playing the Waltz of the Sleeping Beauty.
Liking this a LOT.
I couldn't have come home to anything greater than this.
And here I thought you'd forgotten about this fic. I'm glad that you haven't.
I would never forget about a story. Of all the TF2 fanfiction I've ever written, I've only abandoned one, and that was never posted anywhere. ----------------------------------------- PART 9: IN WHICH A LESSON IS ADMINISTERED Next Saturday brought them back to the bar, and another lazy evening sitting out in the sun. Another few hours of laughing and joking with Demo and Engineer, even as Heavy's mind churned through a dozen different possibilities for bringing the Scotsman and Ilse together. He had considered several different angles, and the most likely one seemed to be a simple invitation; ask Ilse to sit with them, and enjoy a drink and some conversation. There were several factors that could affect this, not the least of which was Ilse's likely view that it would be inappropriate for her to socialize while her husband was absent. He could play it off as the Russian ignorance of European social decorum, if he needed to. Of course, it would have a higher likelyhood of success if he had the others on his side... Engineer went to the bathroom, and Heavy decided that the time was right. He nodded at Demo, and spoke with some measure of caution. “I am meaning to ask, you remember Ilse, yes?†He gave a very heartfelt sigh in response. “'Course ah do. Why, what's the problem?†Heavy shifted, faking some degree of uncomfortable feeling. “I... think Engineer thinks she should not be with Doktor. And I am knowing Russian man who does not look after wife does not deserve wife. But this is America, and we do not know how is Doktor and Ilse doing. So I wonder how you think of it. Is right to leave alone, or is right to say a thing?†Demo looked at him with some puzzlement as he worked through Heavy's stilted speech. “Yer askin' me if ah think he's wrong fer her?†Heavy waved his hands dismissively. “No no, is bad to say that. Like I say, we do not know how is between them, and to go between husband and wife is not right. But Ilse, she is ver' nice lady. I am feeling bad for her. Do not want to say, she should not be with Doktor, but maybe want to tell Doktor that she is lonely. So I am asking how you think.†It was so carefully calculated, every word. Oh, he was always going to be somewhat hampered by his command of English, but he spoke it far better than he let on. The dumbing-down helped to sell the image of the Russian brute. The phrasing put the idea in Demo's head; the suggestion that Ilse should not be with Medic, carefully repeated, with a threadbare reasoning against it. “How do ah think?†Demo spat. “What ah think isn't suitable fer polite company, mate. That arsehole's holdin' a jewel in his hands the like o' which men'd die fer, an' all he fookin' well does is ignore her! 'Tisn't right any way ye cut it, an' if that makes me a bastard fer wantin' to stuff a sticky bomb in his gob, then ah'll be a bastard 'n' like it!†He slammed the table with his fist as Engineer returned. “Whoah there, son, what's gotten you all riled up?†he asked amiably as he sat down and returned to his beer. Heavy picked up his own and shrugged. “Is nothing. No need to be angry.†“Too bloody late fer that,†Demo said mutinously. “Oi, Tex, ye think Ilse shouldn't be with her gobshite of a husband?†Engineer's face darkened. “You know I think it ain't right, how he treats her.†“Look, is not to say that is not ri-†“I don't give a good goddamn what you think, big guy, it ain't right,†he snapped. “Medic should be ashamed of himself. He don't deserve her, no way, no how.†Heavy rubbed the back of his neck pensively. “I was thinking maybe should say to him. Maybe. Do not know if would be taken well.†“He needs a fookin' punch in the face, Heavy, not a chat,†Demo said with some feeling. “Ah'll bloody well do it on the battlefield if no one else will.†Hm. No, that would not be appropriate, Heavy thought. There could be no suggestion of Demo being aware of this until he was actually involved with Ilse. “That is bad idea,†he said. “Think should talk to Ilse and Doktor first, find out how they feel. They could be happy like this.†“Ain't no way she's happy,†Engineer grumbled. “And I say we are not knowing that,†Heavy replied. “Doktor has been married for years. Is not good to interfere.†The lies were easy. All for the greater good, he told himself. Guiding people without them realizing was a delicate, underhanded game, made harder by the fact that he had only their best interests at heart. Ilse deserved better than a husband who had no time for her. Medic needed someone who could understand his nature and work around it. They would push back against explicit control. Before Demo could slam the table again, or Engineer could reply, all three of them heard a faint cry from farther down the street. It was high pitched and frightened; the sound of a woman in distress. Heavy rose quickly, turning and trying to place the direction it was coming from. He frowned as it happened again, this time much closer, then suddenly realized that the unknown voice was screaming in German. “That is Ilse!†he shouted. A figure stumbled around the corner; it was her, without her hat or her books, the side of her dress in tatters. She dashed forward as three men appeared behind her. One of them tried to grab at her hair, and it was enough to unbalance her. She staggered and crashed to the ground with a yelp of pain. Heavy was running in her direction before he even realized he had started to move, completely overtaken by rage at these unknown assailants. But he was not as fast as Demo, who sprinted down the street like a man possessed. As one of the men reached down to grasp a handful of her hair again, and pull her head up with a sick leer, Demo struck him with a two-fisted punch that shattered his nose and sent him sprawling back into his companions. It was easy for Heavy to mop up as Demo pulled Ilse out of harm's way. His boxing experience and sheer strength outclassed them completely, even while they were two to his one. A punch to the ribs, an uppercut to the chin; he found it easy to channel his emotions and fight with his head as well as his heart, and boxing had always been a thinking man's game. He laid out one beside his friend, and effectively disabled the other with a thump that knocked the wind out of him. One second later, the miscreant was shoved against the wall face first with one arm twisted up behind his back. A quick glance to confirm there was no danger, and he looked back at Ilse. Demo was kneeling beside her, gently murmuring while she sobbed uncontrollably into his arms. Engineer, ever the sensible one, had ducked into the pub and emerged with what looked like a ladies' cardigan, followed by a rather anxious waitress and the usual bartender. “How DARE you hurt this woman!†he snarled, slamming the man against the wall for emphasis. He was angry at himself as well as them; he should have seen this coming. He should have known that the anti-German sentiment ran too deep here. Damn Americans... This would not stand at all. The guy croaked something about Nazis. Heavy shoved him painfully against the brickwork. “Shut up,†he said as he twisted his arm up even higher, prompting a faint groan. “Would be lucky to walk away alive if you hurt her.†“What the hell is going on here?†The bartender approached with Engineer in tow, and looked guardedly at Heavy and the others flat out in the dirt with broken bones. “These men attack this lady,†Heavy said flatly. “We stop them. That is all you need to know.†“She's the German, isn't she?†he said rather uncomfortably. Heavy realized that he probably shared some of the mens' feelings on Ilse, a fact that put his teeth instantly on edge. He tossed the man onto the ground, and loomed over the hapless barkeep. “This nice lady, she is wife of BLU mercenary,†he growled, “and he has many bombs and weapons to play with. We all have many weapons and bombs. Now, I am thinking this is nice town, and would be terrible shame if had to blow it all up...†He leaned in threateningly. “But if anyone hurt her, we will, and I promise will not be enough left to fit into paper bag when we are done.†He shrank away in terror. Heavy looked at him with seething contempt, and pointed at the side street. “You go and find her things. Engineer, can you go with to help? Make sure find everything,†he said nastily. Engineer saluted grimly, and handed the cardigan to Demo. He took the bartender's arm and pulled him on. “Get along there, sooner we get movin' the better.†Heavy kicked the sole remaining conscious attacker in the gut, knocking him down a second time, then knelt beside Demo and Ilse. She was a complete mess. Her hair was wild, her face was red and puffy, and she clutched the remains of her dress around herself like it was armor. They'd torn most of one strap as far as her waist, and Heavy couldn't miss the bruises around that arm. One sandal was missing, and her knees were scraped and bleeding. It was probably pure luck that she had run the right way before the men had pulled her down. Demo covered her modesty with the cardigan and wiped the tears away. “Shh, don't cry, lass, yer safe now,†he said softly. “Yer among friends and we'll not let ye be harmed. Ye put this on, and we'll get ye somethin' fer yer nerves and bring ye home.†He helped her slip her shaking arms into the sleeves, and deftly did up the buttons. Her torn dress would never be the same, unfortunately. Heavy patted her shoulder. “If they ever come near you again, we'll raze this town to the bedrock, I promise you,†he said firmly in Russian. “They know it too. They'll leave you alone.†She nodded. “My house key was with my books,†she said weakly, and gulped back another sob. “They – they called me a N-n-†“Dinnae take any notice of 'em,†Demo said, taking her hand. “Bunch o' ignorant numpties.†He still had one arm slung around her shoulders to support her, and didn't seem to be in any hurry to let go. Ilse reached out and touched his bleeding knuckles gingerly, then looked up at him in concern. “You're hurt,†she whispered. He simply smiled. “Aye, lass, but ah don't feel it.†“Is not good, to stay here,†Heavy said. “Ground is cold, da? Come, we see what bar has.†They helped her over to the chairs – or rather Demo did, while Heavy ordered whiskey and coffee. Something to ease her mind, and something to keep her warm. The waitress was sympathetic, and Ilse had a mug in front of her within minutes. Heavy slipped into the bar for a moment and passed her a few hundred dollar bills in gratitude, along with a quiet order that she should not ask for the cardigan to be returned. He brought a bowl of water and some napkins for Demo's hand. His own knuckles were nothing more than a little bruised. Ilse didn't do much more than stare into her coffee at first, but the alcohol soothed her mind and soon she was well enough to thank them both in a rather timid voice. Heavy just let Demo talk, and returned to his beer. He needed to think, to work out if Ilse would need further protection. He had no guarantee that this would not happen again, his threats to the barkeep notwithstanding. As he watched Demo smile, and make jokes and generally try to lift her spirits, he realized that he was deeply angry. This should not have happened. He wanted them to meet again, of course, but not like this, not the expense of Ilse's safety. The town would have to be dealt with carefully, but he would deal with them. This would not be allowed to happen again. He would have to tell Medic all about it, too. That presented its own host of problems.
http://tinyurl.com/8x9zwbs My face when I saw that this was an actual update. Also, imagine that face taken up to eleven and you'll know what my reaction was to all this awesome plot development.
I don't have a gif for the happy little chair dance I did when I saw the update, you'll just have to take it on faith. Captcha: Potemkin ivenedbg. I kid you not. Wheels within wheels.
yes! I'm so so happy there's now more of this.
I should work on this some more. Here, have some plot while I'm trying to figure bits of it out. -------------------------------------- PART 10: IN WHICH MANY QUESTIONS ARE CONSIDERED Sunday afternoon found Heavy back in the infirmary, this time unpacking a crate of glassware and chemicals that Medic had ordered for use in his tests. Considering the excitement of the day before, this menial activity was almost soothingly banal. It was mostly beakers, flasks, a few sets of test tubes and a number of different sized condensers, as well as the tubing and other accessories to fit them all together. He decided to leave one type of everything out and ready, and store the rest for now. Medic was absent. When they had returned yesterday, he had immediately gone to the Doktor and related the news of Ilse's incident; Medic had left with Engineer, a worried expression on his face, and the Texan had later returned from town alone. Whether he would be back in time for the battle on Monday remained to be seen. This bothered Heavy. It was... unanticipated. He was still angry at the town, as a whole, for causing this. If there was one thing that irritated him beyond all reason, it was the interference of inferior minds in his work. And if there was one thing that enraged him to the point of irrationality, it was bigoted Neanderthals who took it upon themselves to harm an innocent solely because she was different. It could have been him, in a different life. He had no illusions as to what happened to men who loved other men instead of women, if those men were not over six feet tall and capable of punching an opponent through a wall. He would never worry for his own personal safety as a result of his inclinations, but he felt an obligation to care for others around him who were not so lucky, who may be singled out and hurt. Medic's response to all this, however, he could not guess at yet. Too many unanswered questions, too little information to work with. Would Ilse mention Demo at all? Would Medic stay in town for some time? Would he do anything to protect his wife? Would this mean more trips to town to be with her, thus jeopardizing a possible relationship between Ilse and Demo? He huffed to himself, and put it aside. There was really nothing he could do at the current time. He set about arranging everything on the counter. Not half an hour later, the door swung open with a sharp clatter and made Heavy almost drop one large round flask. He fumbled with it, and it bounced on the counter before he caught it again, but thankfully remained intact. He swallowed the muttered curse when he saw Medic, looking rather more peeved than usual. The Doktor lost all trace of annoyance at the sight of him, and came forward with an eager gleam in his eyes. “So ze glassvare has arrived! Vunderful, ja... I shall begin testing tomorrow, after ze battle.†Heavy fixed the round flask in place below the condenser. “Have seen Ilse, da? She is okay?†Time to have some of his questions answered, at least. Medic looked almost resentful as he looked over the chemistry equipment, not meeting Heavy's gaze. “She is fine. Stubborn, but fine. Nozzing but cuts and bruises. I spoke to ze police chief, and he has assured me zhat it vill not happen again. Ze men have been arrested.†Heavy paused, mulling over where to take the conversation. There was something more there, and he wanted to know what that was. “Is okay, Doktor?†he asked simply. Medic pulled a test tube out of the crate, and tapped it pensively. “Have you ever been married, Heavy?†He shook his head. “Have not met right, ah, wooman.†“Sometimes zhey insist on not listening to reason. Trust me on zis.†Medic sighed, and slotted the tube into the rack along with the others. “Ve had an argument. I asked her to stop tutoring, and she vill not. She has decided, even if zhere are ozzers around who vish her harm, she vill still go. And she does not even need to do it – ve haff all ze money ve could ask for from BLU!†He leaned on the counter, head low between his shoulders and deep frustration evident on his face. “Vhy must she be so difficult?†Interesting, Heavy thought. His estimation of Ilse rose a little higher. She was no coward, and she had the will to defy her husband if she thought it necessary. “In Russia, would not be call difficult,†he said. “Strong wooman cannot sit at home and hide like leetle baby. And the town, they are knowing we are watching for her. She will not be hurt again.†“She makes me vorry for her.†Heavy patted him on the shoulder. “If so worry, maybe we find bodyguard for her, hm?†he said with a chuckle. Medic smiled half-heartedly. “She is not ze type to accept an escort. I married a very modern voman, unfortunately. I vill see her again zis veekend – maybe zhen I vill convince her.†The two of them unpacked the rest of the crate. Medic was almost childishly delighted with the contorted glassware, as if he had been given an early Christmas present. Heavy thought about the significance of what he knew now; how could he best account for this development? Medic had returned early. If Demo had been mentioned, it had not make as much of an impact as the argument. If he went to town and met Demo, during their usual Saturday drinks, another problem presented itself: whether the rather impulsive Scotsman would be able to refrain from saying or doing anything that betrayed his interest in Ilse. Nevertheless, a wedge had appeared between them naturally, and he would be a fool to ignore it. Despite the unfortunate circumstances of the incident that had caused it, this disagreement could be exploited to push Ilse towards Demo - No, wait. He was thinking about this all wrong. It would be far easier to push Demo towards Ilse. The method had already presented itself; he could walk Ilse to and from her tutoring, ostensibly to protect her from further attack. Demo's contract was up in two weeks, if he had figured the time frame correctly. That would be enough to suggest the idea to him and see where the plan went from there. He could also hint at the argument, and observe his reaction. Heavy hummed to himself as they finished up. “Think is time for music, Doktor. Is okay?†“Ja, of course. And Heavy...†He caught his arm. “I have been rude. I vant to zhank you for helping Ilse. Not every man vould be as noble as you and Engineer. Vhen I imagine vhat could have been...†He looked away for a moment, then gave Heavy a slightly brittle smile. “But, it is done now. She is safe, and ve have experiments to run tomorrow. I vill make a list of vhat I need from ze stores vhile you are cleaning up, and ve can haff everyzing ready to start.†“Da, Doktor,†he said, and patted him again on the shoulder. “I get Tchaikovsky now, maybe opera later.†Medic disappeared into his office, leaving Heavy a little chagrined at being called noble when his actual motives were rather more subversive. Still, as long as Medic believed it, he would use it to avoid suspicion. He began to sweep the floor to the sound of the Nutcracker suite, and considered how to talk to Demo on the weekend.
I'm about to go to work and I was feeling like crap; then this was updated and i am rejuvenated. I love you, Doktor.
Deeply thinking Heavy is very fine Heavy indeed.
Oh, hey, a couple more chapters since last I came to check on this fic... Is good day to enjoy intellectual Heavy.
PART 11: IN WHICH EVENTS ARE SET IN MOTION “Demo,†Heavy said, as he placed another round of drinks in front of him and Engineer, “I am needing favor from you. Is okay to ask?†Their usual Saturday meeting was rather more subdued this week. The barkeeper had been a little more standoffish. There was an undercurrent of unfriendliness in the town now, one that made Heavy worry about Ilse again. Medic insisted on believing that the problem was solved, now that the miscreants had been thrown in jail. Whether that was out of naivety or the unwillingness to accept that people could bend the law to their advantage, he didn't know, but Heavy was not so blind. This was a relatively small town. They would inevitably favor their own over a stranger. Demo shrugged. “'Course, no harm in askin'. Cheers.†They all raised their respective alcohol of choice and drank, though without any pleasure in Heavy's case. He would never be convinced that American beer was anything but tasteless swill. He wiped his mouth, and put on his best impression of being deep in thought. “I am being still worried of Ilse. Am thinking maybe they wait, and attack again. Town is... not so good. I am knowing this because am growing up in small village in Russia.†He waved his hand vaguely. “Small town does not like, eh, outsiders.†Engineer sighed. “Think I know what ya mean, big guy. I love my country 'n' all, but some things really grind my gears.†“Try growin' up in the arse end o' nowhere in Scotland with skin like mine,†Demo said darkly. “Aye, ah get ye. What's that have to do with yer favor?†“You are done with RED next week, yes? You have plans yet?†“No' as such, no. Ah were thinkin' o' headin' to the Bahamas fer a while, maybe travel around. Why?†“I think Ilse is needing bodyguard,†Heavy said. “Doktor is not so worried. He is thinking is all okay, because the police tell him so.†He spat on the ground. “Pfah! I am not so stupid. I have seen in Russia, will happen here too. They will wait, and they will try again, and this time police will say, sorry, men got away, is nothing to be done.†“Ye want me to keep an eye on her?†Demo asked incredulously. “Just for little while. I will ask Doktor to transfer to other base. Ilse will be safer if she is not here. We are fighting every day, so cannot do myself.†The other two considered this. Demo looked at him with curiosity and a little wariness. “Why are ye so concerned fer her anyway?†Ah. A fair question. Perhaps he suspected Heavy had an interest in her. He sighed, and stared at his beer morosely. “She remind me of little sister, Natasha. I have not seen in many years. I worry for her too.†Demo seemed satisfied with that. It was something of a lie, though – Natasha may have been little, once, but she had grown into a fine example of Russian womanhood who broke and trained horses for a living. And yes, he hadn't seen her in a few years, but he wasn't so much worried as wondering whether she had made enough money to buy another stable yet. Engineer looked at Demo thoughtfully. “He's got a point there, partner. Feel like stickin' around a while?†“Aye, ah could. Wouldn't be much of a stretch to hang on here an' watch out fer the only pretty lady in this dump.†He knocked back the last of his whiskey. “Ah'll drop by her place tonight. What about the sawbones?†“Eh?†“Her bloody husband, mate – how's yer 'Doktor' gonna feel about me hangin' around his wife?†They both looked at Heavy, who shrugged. “I say to Doktor, and he thinks she will not want a bodyguard. He want her to stay at home.†“Ye cannae ask a woman to sit on her hands an' do nothin',†Demo said. “Tisn't fair at all.†“That is what I am telling Doktor!†Heavy said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Is better she have bodyguard. You must, eh, convince her. But... do not want to tell Doktor.†He hung his head miserably. “This is interfering. Necessary, but... not good. I am afraid he will not like.†Engineer patted him amiably on the arm. “Well, I ain't gonna say nothin' if you don't, big guy. He don't need to know.†“Aye,†Demo nodded. “Ah won't mention either o' ye, never fear.†Heavy grinned. “Good! Many thanks. Medic is there tonight, so is all okay for now. Is, how you say, great height off of head?†“Think you mean a great weight off your mind,†Engineer said, chuckling. “I'll get the next round, folks.†He grabbed the empties from the table and ducked into the bar. The rest of the evening went well enough. When it came time to leave, Demo promised he would call on Ilse tomorrow afternoon, and watch out for her around the town as much as he could even if she refused an escort. The other two went to Engineer's truck to wait for Medic, who had come with them to see his wife. He was late. Medic was never late. Yet, ten minutes past the hour, the Doktor stormed up to the truck under a cloud of fury. Engineer opened his mouth to ask what was going on, and Medic cut him off with one sharp gesture. “Do NOT ask, Herr Engineer. Just drive us home.†He climbed into the truck beside Heavy and slammed the door. “Verdammt Frauen,†he grumbled under his breath. The ride back to the base was mostly silent, with Medic staring sullenly out the window. Heavy managed to contain his curiosity. He would find out over the week what exactly had happened between him and his wife, once the Doktor had had a chance to cool down.
captcha: yeasomf Part (hahahaha) What a great surprise to wake up to! You always leave off with the 'to be continued...' in such a climactic and dramatic way. Almost reminds me of a soap opera in that aspect (in the best ways possible, I assure you). I can't wait for the next update. You're a very talented writer.
I'm dying. I'll be waiting for the next update.
Captcha: competition xpostcom. Angry Medic? Something I don't see often! I love this new development. Do continue!
PART 12: IN WHICH A PROTOTYPE IS DESCRIBED Medic's bitter mood continued for a few days, only lightening on Wednesday after he took a call from Ilse. He returned to the infirmary in better spirits, though he still said nothing to Heavy, and sequestered himself in his office. Hm. This was good. If she had mentioned Demo, he had thought nothing of it. If she were in danger, he would have been worried. Medic seemed rather more settled, now, as if the gloom of whatever argument he had had with her had been lifted. Heavy collected some dinner from the canteen, and decided to chance asking him about it. He knocked on the office door, then let himself in with a sandwich and two mugs of coffee. Medic looked up curiously, and nodded at him. “Ah, Heavy – danke, I vas just about to go und get somezing.†He set the coffee down on the desk, and waited for Medic to shuffle some paper out of the way to make space for the plate. “Is no problem. You are being busy, yes? Here, I am eating already.†He took one mug and gestured at the sandwich, then took his usual spot on the other chair. Medic drank the coffee gratefully, and ventured a bite or two. He still looked weary, as if he was struggling under the weight of figures and calculations, but his eyes were as bright as ever. Heavy liked to see them, in the moments when Medic took off his glasses. There was something very pleasant in the look in his eyes, whenever he smiled or laughed. “So... is Ilse being okay?†Heavy asked carefully. “I am still being worried, and... Doktor seem angry when see her on Saturday. I am hoping nothing is happening to her.†Medic sighed, and a brief flash of irritation crossed his face again. “She is fine, my friend. She is simply a stubborn voman. I insisted zhat she stop tutoring for some time, but she simply vill not listen, not even vhen I remind her of her obligations to me.†“Do not understand.†A pure lie. Of course he understood. “She is my vife, Heavy. She should obey me.†Medic tossed his glasses onto the desk, pinched the bridge of his nose, then chuckled to himself. “I knew she vas headstrong vhen I met her, of course, but I vould have zhought a few years of married life vould teach her zhat I am ze smart vun.†Heavy laughed along, while mentally rolling his eyes at Medic's naiveté. Intelligence mattered nothing; it may be wise to avoid going out into danger, but a woman needed something to occupy her days, and Ilse had no children. It was just as foolish to expect her to be content with inaction and loneliness. “So, you are talking to her today? You are, eh, not so angry now, yes?†“Ja, I have talked to her. She has said she vill consider giving up her tutoring if she cannot find a vay to do it safely. I vill bring her to reason eventually, do not vorry.†Ah, interesting, Heavy thought. “I am still thinking, she must have bodyguard,†he said. “Would be safe, and she would still have tutor.†Medic waved the suggestion away as he reached for the second half of the sandwich. “Ach, nein. Vhere vould ve find someone suitable? I cannot ask BLU to bring in a chaperon for her, and Ilse vill never accept vun anyvay.†That seemed to be the end of it. Heavy was intrigued, however. Had Demo gone to see her? If so, why hadn't Ilse said anything – and, more than that, why had she suggested she would give up tutoring? Again there were too many variables, too many possibilities. He knew Demo's character well enough, and he was confident that the Scot was honorable and he had visited her as promised. Ilse's character was not so well cemented in his mind, and he could not be sure of why she would hide information from her husband. It suggested – and how he hardly dared to hope this – that their relationship was showing its first cracks. If this were the case, then his plans would have to be moved along, but it also meant that he would have to tread very carefully to prevent it all from exploding in his face. As of now, he could still claim ignorance, but that would not be possible once he had spoken to Demo again. “So, how is going with new gun?†he asked. Medic beamed at him with the kind of loopy smile that made him feel just a little too warm. He snatched up his glasses and pointed at the blackboard; they both stood, with coffee in hand, as Medic pulled the densely-covered board down and began to trace the white chalk outline of what could be a Medigun with a rather thicker barrel. “Ah, you see, zis is as far as I have progressed – ze original, you know, vas made by a RED Medic, ja? Ze design is very clever... ze charge is delivered to ze Uber Device inside you.†Here he placed a palm on Heavy's chest, just below his pectoral. “And ze beam activates ze resonant frequency and uses a short range burst to repel all damage for a short time. Now, I believe ve can change zis to apply ze charge differently, if ve can develop a gun zhat uses anozzer frequency and anozzer kind of Uber Device, vhich vould cause ze burst to increase a veapon's damage instead.†He patted Heavy amiably, and turned back to point out different parts of the gun. Heavy felt very aware of the loss of heat when he took his hand away; it left him with the sudden urge to snag Medic around the waist and run his own hand across the same spot on the Doktor's body. His fingers twitched. He covered it by finishing his coffee and putting his mug on the desk, then tried to focus on what Medic was saying. “...so ve vill also have to develop a new kind of Uber serum zhat vill be converted in ze gun to generate ze charge, but I believe I have some possibilities already. Ze new lab equipment has been very useful.†“The charge, it is being... not so powerful, yes?†Medic looked at him curiously. “Vhy vould I make it less powerful?†“Could be dangerous.†Heavy tapped the heavy barrel schematic. “Energy to stop all damage, this is being very high. Must apply to two person. Take energy, put into one weapon instead? Maybe break weapon, not make more damage.†“Oh please, my friend, at least credit me viz some sense. A metal gun is not as fragile as a human body.†Heavy crossed his arms and held up one finger. “A gun is very carefully tuned instrument. A larger, stronger gun is under stress when it is firing. Large change to this will make gun or boolet explode. So, you must make gun to handle greater stress, or make sure that change in stress will not damage it or cause misfire.†He looked at Medic's now-puzzled face, and realized that his English had gotten rather better. He had betrayed the fact that he was not quite as slow as people thought. Heavy swore inwardly, and attempted to correct the mistake. He sniffed. “I am Heavy Weapons Guy. I am knowing guns. Is not to say, Doktor is wrong, but...†He held out his hands and shrugged sheepishly. “Have seen many gun not work because of leetle problem.†That seemed to satisfy him, although Medic still looked a little puzzled at the sudden outbreak of intelligence. “Vell, ve have much to do before ve go to live testing, ja? Come – let us make a list of chemicals I vill need to begin developing ze serum.†He drained the last of his coffee, and rummaged for a clipboard and pen on his desk. Heavy looked at the squat Medigun prototype, and berated himself for the slip up. It wouldn't do for Medic to get suspicious of him now, after he had gained his friendship, and he would certainly become suspicious if the big, dumb Russian started talking like a scientist.
After all this dumb luck and shameless manipulation, I'm really starting to crave an ending where Heavy pulls out all the stops, pours a lot of booze down Medic's throat and carefully manoeuvres him towards the nearest storage closet, and hears, "Oh, I'm sorry, Heavy, but I prefer my men who are less bulky and standing around the battlements screaming about America. I hope we can stay marvellous friends."
118 nooooooooo
I really don't want anything to end well for this Heavy. I want him to be caught, I want the Medic to unabashedly hate him...just...something. If it meanders to the Medic either being "converted" into being gay or the Medic revealing that he was gay all along and desperately craved the Heavy, I'll just be disgusted. The Heavy is basically ruining a relationship just so he can get in someone's pants. And he's lying to that someone by pretending to be their friend (in nearly every encounter between the Heavy and the Medic, the Heavy is agitated, annoyed, or bored with whatever the Medic is saying). Considering that the Heavy is also painting a picture of the Medic as being a terrible husband (thus ruining his image with his own team), he's really just wrecking the Medic's life. I really hope that this doesn't end as I think it will.
For months now, I kept glancing at this story and meaning to read it. I just got around to it today, and pushed through the whole thing. I thought I'd enjoy it- I really wanted to enjoy it, for that matter- but it's kind of bothered me so far. Your writing is easy to follow and I don't think you should stop or totally change your plans for this story. What follows is just my opinion, and as such it's purely objective; you don't have to take it seriously. If you're open to criticism, though, here goes... Is it necessary for your Heavy to behave like a narcissistic psychopath, for him to appear "intellectual"? Why exactly is Heavy so interested in Medic that he's going to these ridiculous lengths to try and have sex with him? Heavy's working behind the guy's back, trying to break up his marriage, spending hours doing menial tasks for him... yet Medic seems to have no qualities that interest Heavy besides his appearance. Heavy honestly seems to think he's introverted, neglectful, and boring. Moreover, Medic has shown no sexual interest in anything, let alone big men. What kind of relationship does Heavy expect he'll have with Medic? Heavy goes out with Engineer and RED Demoman, and pretends he's their friend, but inside he's only interested in manipulating them. He repeatedly tells himself everybody thinks he's a big dumb brute, then plays dumb to make them think that. He's being an awful person, and even the moments where he acts concerned about Ilse's well-being seem like a weak justification for his selfish behaviour. I suppose this is fanfic and not a morality play or a fable. It'll probably end with Heavy seducing Medic, but I'll be honest... I'd like to see all of Heavy's scheming and condescension towards everybody explode in his face. However it ends, this story would turn out much more satisfying if Heavy first has to learn a couple lessons about using people, and meddling in their lives.
You know I always appreciate feedback, guys. Not really much I can say except... trust me.
I enjoy this story because I find it funny- the Heavy, the intellectual, trying so hard just to get sex. I ENJOY reading about the drastic lengths he's going to be with Medic. I ADORE how much I want to see it all fail- it makes me happy!
A lot of the fandom considers Medic's wife a beard. I suppose I just saw this as one step further - that he's sufficiently repressed that she's a beard to him, too, that he married her because, well, that's what you DO when you grow up, you pair up with a mate of the opposite gender and procreate. And then the neglect would flow naturally from perpetual procrastination, "I'll give her what she wants from me once I'm done with this (endless series of obstacles that I continue to create for myself while avoiding any level of self-examination like the proverbial plague)." The fact that he actually blushed when Heavy complimented him early on rather cemented that. Sure, some middle-aged men are easy blushers, but it's not all that common. With that as what sort of clicked into my head initially, Heavy's actions didn't bother me so much, particularly since he seems to be trying to find Ilse someone who'll pay MORE attention to her than Medic does anyway. Besides, seeing a character who is generally portrayed as utterly direct and matter-of-fact being conniving and manipulative has been an interesting stretch.
>>122 Make us trust you. Find some subtle way, inside your story, to communicate to your readers that you, the author, are aware of and understand the ethical issues at hand. That's probably the root of the problem here. I for one can certainly enjoy stories about awful people doing awful things--even if there isn't justice in the end--but I don't enjoy wondering if the author realises that the behaviours she is portraying are bad. It's teetering on the brink of horror, thinking any minute this is going to turn into a rape-as-love fic. Which, by the way, is not the kind of suspense that makes me want to keep reading. I'm not saying that you have to be extremely dogmatic, preaching against Heavy's actions every step of the way, or even that you have to boldly confirm your personal opinions in the story. Actually the fashion these days is that you avoid such anvilicious approaches. But little details, like the words you choose to describe his thoughts and his actions, attention paid to harmful consequences to himself and others, and the quite acknowledgement of healthier options can serve as that meaningful glance across the dinner table that says "Yes, I smell it, too." It would be very reassuring.
>>125 while I agree telling's not as good as showing: There was always the option of trying to take him by force, but such a thing was abhorrent, vulgar, and ultimately counter-productive; no, if Medic were to come to his bed, it would be willingly or not at all. And so the question remained: how could he cause this to happen? Would it be possible to seduce the doctor?
>>125 What hey nonny mouse said. I know when I'm telling, not showing, but the whole 'this will NOT be rape-fic' thing was established in the first post. I've already written a story with rape in it as a plot device - Butterfly Knife - and I'm not likely to write another. I'm sure as hell not writing a rapefic solely for the porn angle, and I really don't like the whole rape-as-love thing. Lack of consent is something I just don't get into. I wander on the edge of coercion, like in Trading Cards or The Science of Romance, but out and out rape by force or manipulation in the style of other stories here? No. And you guys know me, if you've been around here a while. You can trust me a little more than an anon writer you've never seen before.
>>122 In my case, the issue's not (as other people have been worrying) the idea that this might turn into a rapefic. Rather, it's the thought that, for his heartless exploitation, manipulation and abuse of people's trust, Heavy will ultimately be rewarded with hot Medic sexytimes and never suffer any consequences for what he's doing. Trust you? I don't really know you at all, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt... I'll be waiting to see what happens next.
Now this is where stuff is getting interesting, in my opinion. I've always been a big fan of intellectual!Heavy, and I love the way you write him. The plot has now reached a point where Heavy is just shamelessly manipulating people and bending lives to his will, just so he can get Medic. I both like and despise that about him. I'm still very, very eager to see where this is going. Also, to Anon >>118 I just want to say that that would be hilarious. I actually kind of want to see this happening now, haha.
I trust Ze Doktor. Is all you need to know.
>>127 I know roughly three things about you, I don't keep close track of who's story is whose, and the ones that I think but am not really certain are yours haven't always been spot-on in terms of handling complex ethical issues. What you may or may not have written in the past is moot, though, because even if everything you've ever written was perfect, and I remembered each and every pristine example, I still wouldn't trust you. I'd expect you to write a story that earns my trust by its own merits. Truthfully, I'm not really concerned that this is going to become, literally, a rape-as-love fic—I’m more concerned, like Obvious and so on, that it’s in the process of glorifying the use of lying, cheating, manipulation and exploitation for the sake of sexual gratification.
>>127 What I'm more personally concerned with is that this will just fall into comfortable old tropes instead of doing anything ground breaking. This story is an uncomfortable read. I don't read it for the Heavy, I read it to see the Medic figure him out and stop him. This "intellectual" is using everyone around him and appears to treat the Medic like a slab of meat to ogle instead of a person to love. He's a despicable character who only showed the faintest sliver of compassion towards Ilse, but that was all just a ruse so he can complete his plan to get the Medic. A man that he has no interest in besides for his body. Meaning that he either plans to keep the Medic like a fuckable briefcase and continue lying to him, or will eventually leave the Medic after completely crushing his life. There's very few people who love to see a villain win, and in this case it'd really turn stomachs. I mean, hell, I've been in the Medic's position. Not marriage-wrecking wise, but someone did manage to wedge themselves into a relationship with me through a long list of lies and manipulations that was hard to break free from. Reflecting on it, I found none of it cute or romantic. I don't know you. I know that your version of Medic tends to be ashamed of himself, afraid of his sexuality, or behaves in a rather immature, feminine way reminiscent of high school. I need something besides a "trust me" to let me know that this won't just turn into "Oh, she was just a beard and I'm a flaming homosexual burning with lust for you Herr Heavy, take me now!" sort of story.
What really bothers me is Heavy pretending to be stupid around Medic. Even if Medic did develop feelings for him, they would be based on a false personality. It's insulting.
Well... I thought I was at least somewhat well known around here. I have posted a lot of stuff, gotten mostly good feedback. On one hand, I don't want to spoil anything. On the other, I want to reassure you guys... Gah. All I can do is ask you to take it on faith that I'm a better writer than that. There is method to my madness. I'd better get writing the next part :/
I love the story, just keeping continuing the way you want it!It's perfect!I'm actually on the edge of my seat waiting for the next chapter so eagerly...your writing style is amazing!
Guys, I'm pretty sure Ze Doktor knows what they're doing. They've been here a lot longer than most and all of their stuff is excellent. It sounds like you guys are complaining about things that might be put in on purpose. >>132 I don't know you. I know that your version of Medic tends to be ashamed of himself, afraid of his sexuality, or behaves in a rather immature, feminine way reminiscent of high school. Um, okay, I can tell you right now that Doktor has more sense than that. Once again, I don't mind people being on edge about where this is going or how it might turn out, but this IS the Chan, and Doktor has been around for a while. They know how things work, what's expected, and what will draw ridicule; a reminder is unnecessary. Sorry if this seems like Whiteknighting - it just seems like a lot of people are getting their panties up in a bunch and thinking Doktor is a nub who needs to be broken in when Doktor has probably been here longer than all of them (judging by the fact that they don't know Doktor by name alone).
I have to agree with TwoRefined here. I've never actually been man enough to namefag, but I've been here a while, and read a lot of Ze Doktor's work, and for the most part it was fan-freaking-tastic. This fic is no exception, and I trust Doktor to steer it in a direction that won't "turn stomachs" or whatever. If you don't like this/don't trust them, then just stop reading, perhaps? The criticism isn't even constructive at this point.
>>137 "If you don't like this/don't trust them, then just stop reading, perhaps?" This isn't deviantart, and that crap doesn't wash here. Ze Doktor can stand up for her(?)self.
>>138 Oh no, not the "this isn't Deviantart" talk! Listen, I'm all for calling out shit that's just plain terrible, or even subpar. But that's not what the nay-sayers are doing. They're complaining about what they THINK is going to happen and continue to make a big whoop about what hasn't even happened yet (and probably never will) like they read Doktor's damn fanfic idea journal or some shit. If you don't trust where this is going, kindly make yourself known and then gtfo. Don't sit here complaining about what MIGHT happen or go declaring what Doktor's going to do with her story. And ESPECIALLY don't ask her to change where it's going just because you don't like it. You're not the fucking god of the fanfics. You are an anon getting up in a respected author's shit about something that has not even occurred. If it DOES happen, she's fair game but until then just STOP. And I know Doktor can stand up for herself. I only bothered commenting because all this bitching and moaning (for something that hasn't even happened yet - I cannot stress that enough) was just starting to make me want to punch kittens. In the ovaries. With that said, I appreciated >>121's angle on their opinion of the story. There was something they read that bothered them and they raised some interesting, thought questions. Maybe the issues are put in by design (which is what I think), or maybe an over-sight. Time will tell. I don't really like Heavy much, either (okay, so it never occurred to me how evil he was being by manipulating everyone like that, but I tend to have an advanced stage of tunnel-vision, and will usually overlook stuff like that [see: Doc Scratch]), but maybe we're not supposed to. Augh, the layers. For me, Heavy acting like a complete sociopath only draws me in more, and adds a layer of suspense to the story. Either way, I think it'd be a tough argument for someone trying to mark this as a BAD story based on anything we've seen so far.
ze doktor where are you we miss...you
Well... I'm back. Guys, I don't expect people to defend me, and I don't really defend myself, because I don't see criticism and discussion as an attack. I find it interesting to see how people react to what I write, whether positive or negative. I also find it interesting that readers see things that I may not have intended consciously, but that are still present in the story. I don't think y'all realize how important it is for me to know this, because it leads me to a greater understanding of what and how I write. Your reactions to, and your expectations of, a story are just as valuable as in-depth criticism, because ultimately... I do this for you. I do it for me too, but if it were just for me, I'd keep it all on my hard drive. But I don't. I post it here, and that means I have an obligation - to listen, to process every response, to tell a good story, and to finish what I start. I'll still ask for a little of your trust that I know what I'm doing, but I expect you to be hard on me regardless - and I'll not blame you if you don't want to give me the benefit of the doubt. Sturgeon's Law and all that... Because I do it for you. And TF2Chan ain't a hugbox. So I'm saying this now - I need your honesty. I have Tumblr if I want praise, but I come here because you make me a better writer. This has gotten kinda long... and sort of rambly. I'll post the next part of the story in a sec. (As an aside - I've been somewhat incognito lately because I've been writing and publishing some original stuff on Amazon under a pen name. My blog is http://shaykassa.wordpress.com. You may or may not be interested. I make stuff free when I can, so keep an eye out for that.)
PART 13: IN WHICH... The usual drinking session on Saturday was somewhat more subdued, as Demo did not appear. Engineer left the beers on the table and looked around pensively. “Our RED friend is a bit late. I figured he'd be celebratin' the end of his contract. You heard anythin' from him?†Heavy shrugged, and they fell silent for a moment. His mind turned over furiously. Demo was never late – in fact, he was usually here ahead of them and partway into his first bottle of whiskey. So where was he? Still watching Ilse? What would she be doing at this time? Tutoring, as far as he knew, but would Demo be allowed to stay with her then? Too many questions. Heavy drank his beer, still wincing inwardly at the taste. Too many questions lately, too many variables. He hoped Ilse was alright. “I am wondering if he is guarding Ilse,†he said. “Maybe, he does not come because he is busy?†“Wouldn't surprise me if he were doin' more'n guardin' her, big guy,†Engineer said darkly. “I gotta tell ya, I think he's been sweet on her since the first moment he saw her.†Heavy shrugged again. “Ilse is married. Is nothing more to say.†“Well shit, does Russia not have any people strayin' from the bounds of holy matrimony? This is the real world, and no good Texan woman'd put up with the doc – no one'd blame her either, if she went lookin' for companionship somewhere else.†Engineer gulped his drink and pointed at Heavy with it. “I sure as hell ain't gonna say nothin'.†He wanted to agree. Heavy was saved from having to respond by the appearance of the still sullen bartender, who dropped a folded piece of paper on their table. “Your negro friend left this for you guys,†he said spitefully. “He paid for your drinks too, so whatever you get tonight is free.†Without waiting for a response, he swiftly turned and left. Heavy stared after him in exasperation, then watched Engineer pick up the note. “What is Demo saying?†he asked. “I don't rightly know...†Engineer scanned it briefly. “So much for him guardin' Ilse. Looks like he's left town. You able to read English?†“Da, much better than I speak.†He took the note, and read it quickly. Hey mates Sorry I can't be there but I have my reasons. I'm leaving this shit hole and I'm not coming back. Have a drink to my good health and maybe I'll see you again when you're not working for RED eh? Cheers DEMO Heavy restrained himself, with much difficulty, from swearing at length and in several languages. Demo was gone. And if Demo was gone, then he was back to square one – with no new lover for Ilse. “Very strange,†he managed. “Why is he leaving?†“Maybe he got scared off,†Engineer suggested. “This place ain't exactly all sunshine and bunnies if you ain't white, and they already got a reason not to like him. BLU don't protect any but their own, too, so he's got nothin' once his contract is up. Still, without sayin' goodbye...†He took the note, and turned it over a few times, but it held no more secrets. “Mighty cold of a man to leave without even a word to his friends.†Heavy frowned. This was true, and not exactly what he expected from Demo. So, something had happened to drive him away. It hardly made a difference now, but he needed to know what it was. “I need to use bathroom,†he said, and went into the dark gloom of the bar. There were a few of the locals, though it had yet to become really rowdy. Not one even looked in his direction or acknowledged his presence. He nodded to the bartender, who approached only after serving two other customers. “Our friend came in here and gave you the note,†he said, dropping all pretense of being dumb. He had lost patience with these yokels. “He has left this town. I want to know what you said to him.†“I didn't say nothing, okay? He just came in here and gave me a couple hundred and the note and said to give it to you. He didn't say more than hello and goodbye to me.†The sneer on the man's face suggested that any more contact than that would not have been received well. Heavy leaned over the bar ominously. “My friend would not leave without a reason.†The bartender remained defiant. “Why don't you ask that German woman then? She was with him.†“What?!†“Yeah, she waited while he was talking to me. She left with him. You want to know why he's gone, you ask her.†Heavy stared at him disbelievingly. Ilse had been with Demo. If he was gone... Suddenly he heard shouting from outside. The voice was familiar. He left the bartender without another word and ran for the door. “VHERE IS HE?!†Medic was screaming as Heavy emerged from the bar. Engineer stood behind the table, almost using it as a shield against his teammate's wrath. Sniper stood a few paces away, looking at the doctor nervously. “Heavy! Vhere is your verdammt friend?!†Medic grabbed the front of his T-shirt, shaking with fury and his eyes wild. “We – we do not know –“ “He left a note, doc,†Engineer said. “He's gone, he left today. What in hell is wrong with you?†Medic seemed to be hanging on to his self-control by only the barest thread. “Vhere – is – Ilse?!†he hissed. Engineer looked at Heavy as the significance of the note hit them. “Ho-lee shit,†he breathed. “Have you been to your house yet?†“We just got here, mate,†Sniper said. “Doc got a call 'bout half an hour after you left. Made me drive out here, and he didn't say anything on the way.†“Well, he ain't here. I think we'd better go to your place.†Engineer finished his beer and left the bottle on the table. Heavy lifted Medic's hands off his shirt and pushed him after the Texan. The four teammates walked to Medic's small townhouse. Engineer looked perplexed, if anything. Sniper's shoulders were hunched over, with his hands deep in his pockets. And Medic marched like a man on death row going to face his final destination. Heavy didn't know what to think. This was beyond unexpected; he had no idea how to handle this development. Ilse – the polite, pretty woman who cared so much for her husband – had run off with another man. None of it lined up with what he knew, or what he believed he knew, about her character. The house was as quiet as a morgue. Medic opened the door with shaking hands and ran through each room, calling Ilse's name, but it was clear she was not there. Heavy looked in the kitchen and saw nothing out of place; it was clean, tidy, and as if she had just stepped out to do some errands. All his suspicions were confirmed, however, when he walked into the small parlor and saw a plain, while, folded piece of paper on the coffee table with a band of gold sitting on top of it. “Doktor!†he called, just as Medic returned down the stairs. “Doktor, look...†He, Sniper and Engineer crowded into the room as Medic sat down on the couch and stared at the letter. He picked it up, gingerly placing the ring to one side, and unfolded it. As his eyes traced the delicate handwriting, he seemed to collapse in on himself. Sniper took off his hat. “Bloody hell,†he muttered under his breath. For once, Heavy was completely at a loss. The facts – that Ilse had left, with Demo, with nothing more than a letter to explain – were nonsensical, irrational. And Medic... All the fury that had carried him this far evaporated as he read what was presumably his wife's words. His shoulders slumped, and the paper slipped through his fingers. He stared at the gold ring, seemingly unaware of the others. “She is gone,†he said softly. “She is gone.†Engineer tapped Heavy on the shoulder and gave him a knowing look. “We'll go get the van and the truck, maybe get some beers to take back to the base. Keep an eye on him, partner.†They nearly ran from the room, and he couldn't blame them. Heavy touched Medic on the shoulder. “Doktor?†he said. “What happened, Doktor?†He needed to know. There was a sense of horror building in his mind; the realization that he had been wrong, in so many ways, and the events that he had set in motion had long since spiraled out of his control. He needed to know what he had done. “She says zhat she does not love me anymore,†he croaked. “I... Heavy, I do not know vhat to do...†Heavy patted him and tried to be reassuring, knowing that such reassurance was futile. Medic could only hold his head in his hands, and take the deep, painful breaths of a man with a broken and bleeding heart. For all his vaunted intelligence, his grand schemes, and his clever manipulations, nothing could stop the singular thought echoing through his head and paralyzing his mind. YOU did this.
Oh Doc. Oh God, Doc, my heart. Don't mind me, just reveling in how damn amazing this is.
oh my good god. this is fantastic! I am so glad this was an actual update. great chapter my heart is hurt.
Awwwww Doktor! The feels... I love this story so much.
Oh dear...Poor Doctor. I feel sorry for him. Also feel sorry for Heavy too. This is very good story. I like it very much. But, I am confuse. Wasn't Demo on the RED team? And Heavy & Medic are on BLU team? If so then why Demo's letter say "I'll see you again when you're not working for RED eh?" Maybe I misunderstand. My English is not good but I love to read your fan-fiction. I will look forward to read more. P.S This is my first post and I do hope I sage right. If not I am sorry in advance.
...GOD DAMMIT. Yes, dear Anon, I have made a mistake. Not only that, I've made the SAME MISTAKE IN THE PAST, i.e. getting confused over which team the characters are on. Fuckity fuck fuck. That should be BLU, not RED. Everyone please accept my apologies and let me go hide my shame elsewhere.
captcha: musician htsetth why yes captcha, medic does play the violin anyway. my feels I am crey
Dammit, Doktor, DAMMIT. That hurt more than I thought it would.
Guys, I am not doing so good. There are reasons. I've got some news recently that's shutting me down to the point where I can't write. This part was written before that. I've been on autopilot for a few days now. I look okay from the outside, but I know I'm not all here. I was hoping to get back to updating this regularly but it's just not going to happen. I need time to recover from this. I won't abandon you, but... just don't ask for updates. You won't see any for a couple of weeks at least. I still want feedback and I'm glad for any I get. Don't pull your punches because I'm in a low place. You guys keep me going when nothing else helps. I love you all ZD ------------------------------------ PART 14: HUBRIS You did this. Heavy sat in his room, on his bed, resting his chin on his clasped hands. There was nothing to do but think, long and slowly and carefully, on what had happened and what he had learned. The trip from the town had been silent and tense. Medic shut himself into the infirmary when they returned to the base. He could not know the contents of the letter, but he was certain of some facts, and the knowledge of them brought him nothing but shame and guilt. Ilse had loved the doctor, and she had fallen out of love with him. Heavy could not guess at when. Medic loved her, and still did. Her loss had destroyed him. He had been wrong, so very wrong. He had been so sure that he knew better than anyone else. Stupid, so stupid... Demo had figured her out from the start. Something about the eyes, he said, and a lass with red hair always had fire in her soul... Heavy had even known that she was stronger than she looked, and not once had he thought she would simply walk away, given the right opportunity. And he had handed it to her on a plate, so sure as he was that he could predict every eventuality and the actions of everyone involved. Demo wanted a wife. He was impulsive enough, and angry enough at Medic, to have made a very inappropriate offer. Why wouldn't she have taken it? He was rich, attractive, and willing to make her the center of his world. Heavy suspected that she knew, just as he did, that she could grow to love another man who would make her happy. He could not blame her for leaving. And Medic... Medic did love her. Maybe Heavy had been willfully blind to that, because of his own desires. Maybe he wanted to believe that the doctor didn't care. Heavy had never doubted himself before, but now he questioned every facet of his mind. He had been wrong, in so many important ways, and it had resulted in Medic's destruction. What else had he been wrong about? What other things had been mistakes? He was suddenly aware of a terrible, creeping hubris stretching throughout his life. Shame, guilt, and now self-hatred for all that he had done... Not even the best of intentions could save him from this, and his purpose had sprung from the most base, the most carnal urges. So much for his lofty intellect, or artistic taste. Lies, all lies. He had lied to the men who considered him a friend. He had lied to himself. His grand plan, of gradually drawing Medic and Ilse apart, was a sham – just like him – because he had thought he could pull everyone's strings. It was too late, and too trite, to say that he should have known better. No god could absolve him of his sins now. A knock at the door made him jump, and for a moment he feared that Medic was there. But when he went to open it, the yellow helmet announced the presence of Engineer. “Hey, I was wonderin' if ya still wanted a drink, big guy.†He held up the case of beer he had picked up from the bar. “Looks like Medic ain't interested, but I'm headin' up to Sniper's nest for a few.†Heavy opened his mouth to respond, but he could say nothing. The words would not take shape. No more lies, his conscience insisted. Not to Engineer, not to anyone. No more plans or machinations. He had done enough damage. “Thank you,†he said slowly, “but I would rather not. I have much to think about.†Engineer gave him a strange look. “You okay?†No, he wasn't. But much as he wanted to brush him off and close the door, he felt like he owed something to the other man. He needed to make amends. “Engineer, I am... not a good person,†he said. “I do not think you would want to drink with me, if you knew.†He sighed. “I pretended to be your friend. I have said things that were not true. It is my fault that Ilse is gone, and Medic is hurt.†Engineer listened, looking faintly puzzled, then set the beer down and eyed Heavy with a calculating expression. “You always been able to talk English this well?†“It is easier for a man like me to appear to be stupid,†he said, shaking his head. “It helps people to relax.†“So, when we spent 'bout three hours talkin' about guns, you mean to tell me that was all an act and you really hate 'em?†Heavy was taken aback. “No, I – you must understand, I enjoy our conversations, but I made you believe -†“Look, I ain't ever thought you were dumb, and I knew you were puttin' on airs.†Engineer held up his hand. “I jus' figured your English weren't that good an' you were tryin' to be social. I like to think I'm a pretty good judge of character, and y'always seemed like a real smart guy who's just a mite uncomfortable around other people. Now, ya can call that 'pretending' if ya like, but I ain't gonna think any less of a man for wantin' to fit in when he's in a strange country, so it makes no odds to me if ya feel like y'ain't been truthful. I'll still call ya friend, 'cos I think ya really are a friend in spite of that.†He patted Heavy on the shoulder. “'Sides, what's this about you blamin' yourself for Ilse leavin'? Ya know that's on the doc, right?†Heavy stared at him, feeling entirely crushed. Not even his 'big dumb brute' act had been successful. “But – you do not care? I deceived you! I wanted Ilse to go!†he said desperately. “She was unhappy and I thought Medic did not love her and -†“So you didn't mean it, when you were talkin' about us not getting' involved between her 'n' Medic?†“No. I wanted to make Demo angry, so he would want to be her bodyguard.†Heavy watched him, somewhat incredulously. “You do not mind?†Engineer rubbed his face with his non-metallic hand. “Did you force her and Demo to leave or something?†“No! I just – made him want to be with her, to watch over her. I made him angry. I introduced them.†“Heavy, if that's all you did, I'm just as much to blame as you are.†Engineer picked up the case of beer. “I said some things that were plenty worse'n that. Truth be told, I thought he didn't love her either.†He pointed his thumb towards the sniping gallery. “Look, partner, far as I can see, all you're guilty of is wishful thinking. It ain't possible to control people like that. If Ilse ran away with Demo, it was her decision and I don't see how ya could've made it for her. So c'mon 'n' have a drink, alright? It's okay if ya wanna keep talkin' dumb too.†He couldn't make him understand. Nothing could remove the burden of guilt from him, but he felt even more powerless that he couldn't convince the Texan that he had something to answer for. Maybe he had never been in control. Maybe he had thought that he was guiding people around, when he was really just conveniently interpreting their behavior. His self-doubt grew. Heavy let himself be pulled out of his room towards the sniping gallery. As they passed the infirmary, he found some final shred of courage and stopped. “I wish to speak to the doctor,†he said. “Maybe I can help him. I will join you later?†Engineer looked dubious, then sighed. “Heavy, y'ain't to blame here, and if he don't see that, then he's less of a man than I thought. Tellin' him you're sorry ain't gonna help him.†“I must say something,†he said. “I cannot leave him like this. It is not right.†“Well, I'm still of the opinion that he brought it on himself, but if you wanna do this, I can't stop you.†Engineer shrugged. “Just don't beat yourself up too much, big guy. This ain't your fault whatever way ya cut it. C'mon up and let us know what he says when you're done.†He left Heavy to his turbulent thoughts in front of the infirmary doors. He didn't deserve Engineer's friendship. He didn't deserve Medic's friendship either, but if he did what he intended to do, that bridge would forever be burned – then a transfer would be his best option. Perhaps he would do better at a new base. He shook his head. He had never run from his problems before. Was that a sign of how low he had sunk? It had been so simple, to start with. He desired the doctor, and he wanted a lover. At every step, he had convinced himself that it was right and he knew best. Now it was time to end all deception, if he had any claim to being a good person. The door should have been locked, but the handle opened smoothly under his hand. Heavy stepped into the dark infirmary. The only light came from Medic's office. The walk across the tiled floor towards it was easily the longest and most reluctant he had ever taken. Heavy took a breath, and reached out for the doorknob. No going back now. He pushed the door open quietly. “Doktor?†he said. Medic was sitting behind his desk. There was a mug in front of him, along with Ilse's letter and ring. He stared at them listlessly, and barely glanced at his teammate. He looked haggard, for want of a better word. It was as if he hadn't slept in days. All the life and energy had been sucked out of him. “Doktor, I would like to talk to you,†Heavy said. “Zhey vill not let me go to find her.†Medic's voice was quiet, almost monotone. “Zhey say ze project is too important, und my personal problems are none of zheir concern. I doubt I vould last more zhan a day if I disobeyed.†“I am sorry, Doktor,†he said. Medic touched the paper, as if he needed to check once again that it was real. “It vas not your fault. I have done zis to myself.†Heavy steeled himself. He couldn't let this go on. “Doktor, it is my fault. I have lied to you,†he said, and somehow he kept his voice steady. “You deserve to know the truth now.†Medic's eyes finally left the letter, and fixed on Heavy's face. He took a deep breath, and plunged onwards. “I have... pretended to be stupid so that you would trust me. I saw that Ilse was not happy, and I believed that you did not love her. So I introduced Demo to her, and I encouraged him to go to her... This would not have happened, if I had done nothing. I have been wrong, about so much. I am sorry.†The doctor's gaze seemed to bore straight through him. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to say that it was really because he wanted him. Let Medic hate him for what he did, not why he did it. The result would be the same, despite the increased feeling of shame and self-loathing he had to deal with. Medic slowly looked back at the letter. He was little more than a shadow of his former self now. “Please leave,†he said distantly. Whether Heavy's words had had any impact, he simply didn't know. Heavy turned and left, pulling the door closed behind him. The secret of his true motives burned poisonously in his mind. For all that he wanted to be completely honest, he didn't have the strength to tell Medic that particular truth, and his failing already tormented him. He would bear it as best he could. Let it be a penance, if nothing else. In all his life, he had never felt like such a coward.
I think this chapter makes a good ending
You know, I didn't say anything after the last chapter, but my opinion has only been cemented after reading this one: Heavy (and perhaps some readers too) has grossly overestimated the amount of influence his actions had on the situation. I don't just mean because he lost control and wasn't able to make things happen how he wanted. Everyone in this story is an adult capable of independent thought and decision making. Should Heavy feel guilt and remorse for his plan to split up Medic and Ilse? YES! Is Heavy the reason Ilse left Medic? No, actually. It's hilarious, because in this chapter Heavy realizes that he was never really in control, and yet at the same time he's saying "it's my fault this happened". No one person is god, with the power to change hearts and make people's minds up for them. Ilse left because she wanted to. She left with Demo because she liked him. If Demo had felt more loyalty to Medic, then maybe he wouldn't have taken her with him. It seems that even now, Heavy is still exaggerating the amount of influence he had in these people's lives.
This chapter may make a good ending, but I feel like I would be so severely disappointed if this fic that I have been cheering on for so long stopped at such a draining and emotional point in the story. If this didn't continue, then what are we supposed to assume? That Heavy and Medic will do beyond this point? Never speak to one another again? All the unanswered questions would just leave me in pieces. I feel that Ze Doktor would have just the right answers for me, but no pressure. I sincerely hope you feel better honey and stay strong. (I hope my Internet feels have at least some value haha.)
I think this is a pretty good turnabout, and it makes the rest of the story seem a lot more realistic.
It's hilarious, because in this chapter Heavy realizes that he was never really in control, and yet at the same time he's saying "it's my fault this happened". I see nothing wrong with that. Heavy triggered events and mucked about in things he had the mistaken impression that he had control over.
Captcah: cried irytmen So did I, captcha; so did I. This is a very good and very well developed story. It breaks my heart, but at the same time I love it. I'll definitely be disappointed if it ends up being discontinued, but I never expect an author to continue a story for longer than it conveniences them. I wish you the best of luck in dealing with whatever problems arise in that silly world of IRL. :)
Just read the entire thing now. I'm in love with this, but I can't help but feel bad for Heavy. I agree with anon 152; while Heavy did contribute to Isle's decision to leave, he did not *cause* it like he keeps telling himself. And when he was explaining his true motives to Medic, he said, " This would not have happened, if I had done nothing." He is just putting more responsibility onto himself. Though, he did kinda screw things up. Mixed feelings, I suppose. I also think it'd be cool to see how Isle and Demo are doing. Maybe as a little bonus chapter or something when the story is completed? Anyways, thank you so much for posting this wonderful story, and I hope you feel well soon, Doktor! <3
Please write "sage" in the email field so you don't bump the thread.
FOOK! Y U NO SAGE?
Are you...really?
I WAS SO EXCITED GODAMMIT
Looking forward to where this is going. I don't really see Heavy as narcissistic or any of what the others are saying - but then again I've always been bad at intrigue and understanding people. ZD - I hope you rise from your trials unbroken, and if there are any scars, may the marking leave you wiser.
PART 15: BLAME For the rest of the team, life went on as normal. Heavy still went to the infirmary and performed his usual duties, but Medic's office door remained closed. The doctor would not speak to him, or to anyone, except for the most basic interactions. He left food for him on the counter outside. The plates turned up empty, mostly. Battles were difficult. They became that much harder, as their doctor developed the reactions and demeanor of a robot. Heavy pulled his weight as much as he could, developing strategies with Engineer so that their defense, at least, was sufficient to force a draw. Sniper covered them where possible, and the three became the new backbone of the team while Solider took to making a colossal, if suicidal, nuisance of himself around the enemy. Their Demoman was barely healed at all by Medic, which Heavy could only attribute to his looking and sounding too much like their former friend. The Scot never seemed to notice, as he had been forcibly detoxed by BLU and now charged into battle with a two-handed broadsword to deal with the resulting hallucinations. The feeling of being adrift, rudderless and direction-less, never really left Heavy's mind. Doubt had poisoned every aspect of his thoughts. The trust and confidence he once had in himself was almost gone. He had taken to questioning every decision he made, in battle and outside of it, no matter how trivial. The only unexpected reprieve was in his almost-newfound friendship with Engineer and Sniper. The Texan turned out to be a hell of a lot smarter than he appeared, astonishing Heavy with the news that he had eleven PhDs in various engineering subjects. Sniper was initially dubious about Heavy's apparent change in personality, but quickly warmed up to him and even offered some sympathy. From that, Heavy learned that the bushman generally avoided people out of social embarrassment more than anything else, and pretending to be different just to fit in was a skill he was well acquainted with. They were a strange set, but Engineer and Sniper became his sounding board. He reasoned that he could be wrong, in any given situation, but it was unlikely that all three of them would be wrong in exactly the same way. Sniper's nest became their new venue of choice, and the required alcohol was shipped in by way of a clandestine payment to Spy. The secret still burned in the back of his mind. Heavy could not breathe a word of what he really was, either to his friends – oh, how he did not deserve them – or to Medic. He didn't fear the company finding out. BLU already knew, as they knew everything about all of them, and they did not care in the slightest about their mercenaries' personal lives unless it affected their work. They made no concessions either, apart from paying them a ridiculous amount of money, of course. But he wanted to say something, to at least tell Engineer, and every time he was held back by cowardice and self-preservation. To admit that he was attracted to men as well as women would spell the end of the friendship, but hiding it left him with a feeling of shame so deep that it seemed as if it had sunk into his bones. The guilt twisted in his guts as he left Sniper's nest on a Saturday night, two weeks after the incident. Heavy thought of it every time he passed the infirmary, every time he left another plate of food beside Medic's office door, every time the doctor wouldn't look at him or say anything to him. The infirmary was actually dark and quiet tonight. Heavy looked in quickly, and saw that the office was also shut and the lights off. He had to hope that Medic had gone to his room early for once, to get some proper sleep. He never looked less haggard than that first night, when Heavy admitted his involvement to him. He closed the door quietly and walked on. It was close to eleven at night, now. The only thing that could wake anyone up was Demo screaming about spiders in his bed again, and Scout was on strict orders to knock him out with his baseball bat if that happened. If Demo could get reasonably sober, and if Soldier could be persuaded to adhere to some kind of tactics, they might be able to start winning some battles. Heavy opened his own door with a yawn, and had to stop in mid-exhale as Medic looked up from where he was sitting, on the bed with a letter in his hands. Heavy coughed, cleared his throat, and tried to clear the faint alcoholic buzz from his head as the doctor stood up politely. “Ah, I, ah, good evening?†he managed, before his manners recovered from the surprise. “Is everything okay, Doktor?†Medic nodded. “I... apologise for intruding, Herr Heavy. I vas hoping to speak viz you, and I did not know vhen you vould be back.†“It is, ah, it is fine. Um...†Dammit, where could he go with this conversation? He had no idea what to say, not after their last talk. Heavy gestured at the bed. “Please, sit. I have no other chair...†“Danke.†Medic sat again. His eyes held something new; sadness, of a desperate and lonely kind, that made Heavy want to throw his arm around his shoulders and console him that the world had not ended just yet. Heavy sat in his chair beside his desk. Sascha, with her long, gleaming barrels, was the only witness besides them. He waited for the doctor to speak. “I have made many mistakes in my life,†Medic began quietly. “I believe zhis is ze vorst, and one I vill have to regret forever. But I cannot let you shoulder ze blame for my mistake, Heavy. Zhis vould make me even less of a man zhan I am now.†Heavy listened with a sinking feeling in his stomach, not fully understanding. “Doktor, it is-†“Nein. Hear me out, bitte. I received zhis,†he showed him the letter, composed in a flowing hand and in German, “ze day before yesterday. It is from Ilse.†His voice cracked a little as he uttered her name. Heavy's sense of guilt twisted painfully again. He gripped the armrests and forced himself to stay quiet. Medic turned the letter over and over, glancing at certain paragraphs. “She had been unhappy for... more zhan a year. Ve had arguments, as you know. She spoke of settling down somevhere and starting a family, but zhere was alvays anozzer posting, and more research. I zhought I vas doing it for her.†He hung his head in utter defeat. “She has sent me divorce papers, Heavy. She does not vant anyzing except to be able to marry him as soon as possible. She – she had zis ready, for some time, and all she says now is zhat she is sorry, she loved me vunce, but ve vere married too young and it vas a mistake.†Medic let the pages slip onto the floor and put his head in his hands, trying to compose himself. Heavy almost rose from his seat, torn between wanting to comfort him and not trusting if it was the right course of action. “I am so sorry, Doktor,†he whispered. Medic sniffed, took a deep breath, and rested his forehead against his clasped hands. He kept his eyes on the floor. “Zhat is vhy I am here,†he said hoarsely. “Ze blame is all mine. It is my fault, Heavy. I do not blame you. I zink you saw vhat I did not, zhat she vas unhappy enough to vant a new life. So I have come to ask you – please, do not blame yourself for my failing. Spare me zhat much.†Heavy could not hold back any longer. He stood and went to Medic immediately, barely able to contain the anguish he felt. He sat down beside him and pulled him into a tight hug. To hell with the consequences, or whether it was inappropriate or not. “I am sorry, I am so sorry,†he said. “Please, Doktor, please believe me, it was not only you – you are a good man and I have been... I have been...†Heavy felt the words climbing up his throat. They wanted to be said, as if saying them would make everything go away. But they wouldn't. The price of honesty was an ending, to everything – but they might ease Medic's mind, and make him hurt a little less. He felt Medic's smaller body through his white lab coat. He smelled like the infirmary, and like cloth, and like a man. He was warm. And he was suffering, broken-hearted, because Heavy had thought himself superior to everyone around him. The penance that Heavy so rightly deserved had been delivered. He gathered whatever strength he had left and took the doctor by the shoulders. “Please, listen to me now,†he said gently. “It was not only for Ilse that I... did what I did. It was also for you, Doktor.†Medic was understandably confused, his brow furrowed. Heavy plunged onwards, not willing to let him have a chance to speak. “I am...†He swallowed, and rallied his courage. “I like men as well as women. I have – had relations with both. And I like you, Doktor. I came here, and I decided that I wanted you, and if you did not love Ilse, then I... could... try to...†Even the words out of his own mouth horrified him now. He couldn't bear to meet Medic's eyes, and he stared at the floor as he felt his hands being pulled down from the doctor's shoulders. Here it comes now. Condemnation. Disgust. He deserved every ounce of it. But Medic's hands did not leave his, and after a moment, Heavy's gaze moved to them from the floor. They grasped his giant fists with no sign of releasing them. “Heavy?†He finally looked the doctor in the eye, and there was no sign of what he expected to see. There was only compassion, and that same deep sadness. “Heavy, I know you vant to spare my feelings,†Medic said. “But you do not have to lie to me.†Shock filtered through his mind, then astonishment, and finally desperation. “But – but Doktor! -†“Nein, Heavy. Do not speak of zhis again.†He sighed and stood up, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I have spent two veeks in self-pity and anger, and two days trying to read her letter. But... my vork is still here. Ze team still needs me. I must learn to live viz my regrets, and zhat means I must accept ze blame.†Every word left Heavy's head. He wanted to shout that it wasn't true, that he deserved some of it, that he at least deserved Medic's revulsion if nothing else, but not even a murmur escaped his lips. “Zhink on zis a vhile,†Medic said, walking to the door. “I vill be in my office as normal on Monday. Ve have much to do. Gute nacht, Heavy.†The soft click of the handle as the doctor left seemed to echo with finality. Heavy listened to the faint tapping of boot heels fading down the corridor, still frozen and stupefied by the revelation that Medic didn't believe him. It had never been more clear: he was powerless, completely and totally, and every trace of influence he thought he wielded was the biggest, cruelest, and most obscene self-delusion. And the truth, maybe the only truth he had ever uttered without calculation or reservation, was held as a lie.
I love your writing and I have been following this story patiently. Whatever you're going through, I hope you get better, faster; not because people want to read your lovely story, but the reserve strength humans have and share with one another.
Oh, now that *is* an interesting twist... I wondered what would happen when Heavy did tell Medic that much, but I never guessed at disbelief! I look forward to seeing how things go on from here! (and well-wishes to the author)
Amazing, as always. And heart-wrenching. I very much look forward to see where it goes from here.
PART 16: LOSS Perhaps it was a kind of cosmic joke. Such a thing was not outside the realms of possibility, although he still could not bring himself to believe in the mysterious hand of a traditionally omnipotent deity in his affairs. But the idea of karma, of spiritual destruction visited upon him in turn; that, he could contemplate. That karma could be delivered by a higher being with a sense of humor, he supposed, but certainly not one he would be willing to worship. Heavy stood at one of the infirmary's high workbenches with an array of metal pieces spread out before him. Another chalkboard had been procured, and it now hung above the bench. The schematic for the new gun was carefully traced out on it by Medic's steady hand. It would be a strange machine, when it was completed – and it would likely require modifications to all their weapons in order to harness its energy – but its creation was still to be seen to, and the job was more or less his. Engineer was reluctant to be involved with any of the doctor's projects now. Having made his opinion on Ilse's elopement known more than once, relations between the two men were somewhat strained. The rest of the team wisely stayed out of it, or were forcibly kept out of it for their own safety. Too many snide remarks from Spy, and Medic had responded with a brief outburst of furious, vicious anger that left the Frenchman trailing blood all the way to the nearest Medipack. This was another thing for him to ponder, in the silent moments while he examined the metal components and corrected some aspects of the design. Medic had changed – of course he had, what man could come through such events unscathed? He was less exuberant, more brooding, and had a shorter temper. Some of the naivete had been lost from his character, and replaced with a subtle world-weariness. The loss had made him a harder man. Heavy banished the thoughts from his mind. It was close to immaterial, now. Safe to say that he had changed too, if reflection seemed increasingly pointless. And it did, every day, since Medic had decided that his admission of attraction was a good-natured lie. He had decided that it was a kind of epiphany. Learning of his true sexuality, and coming to accept it without shame, had been an epiphany too, albeit a far more pleasant one. This was a shift in the other direction – learning that he had spent years under the delusion of a superiority complex, and accepting that he was, in fact, just as lost and confused about the world as any other human being. Let it go. Pointless. There is work to be done. Heavy followed his own internal map of what a gun should be as much as the chalked diagrams. This, at least, he could still do well; his knowledge of ballistics was hard and honestly won over the course of years, though he had never quite applied it to such a device before. The pieces under his hands consisted of some spare parts from an older Medigun, and a number of copied components that he had machined from the original. Being lost in the work was so much better than being lost in thought. He noted measurements for the new barrel, estimating thicknesses and probable adjustments, and marking where sections would need to be trimmed. The Medigun itself was a simple affair that merely delivered energy to the Uber Device implant, and the implant did the hard part. This, though, was something very different – the energy had to be targeted, converted through a similar device in each weapon and applied only to that weapon, and there was no way they could attach something the size of the implant to every one of them. Logistics aside, the Uber Device cost a small fortune, and there were dozens of weapons to be outfitted. Heavy held up the basic housing, now gutted of all its internal electronics. It was no use – the cavity was simply too small. The barrel would have to be extended somehow. He considered the schematic for a moment, then erased a few lines and redrew the section with a much wider diameter. A double-walled, hollow barrel was structurally less sound than a solid one, but as this gun was never going to shoot bullets, he surmised the trade-off was worth it. A light touch on his shoulder made him jump. Medic appeared, as if from nowhere, looking with interest at the changes he had made. “Interesting choice, my friend. I assume you have a reason for zhat?†Heavy struggled to regain his train of thought. Another cruel trick of karma had left him with no idea of what to say to the doctor, nor how to behave around him. His old habits of conversation all had ulterior motives attached to them, and his mind rebelled against them now, but he was left with little else to go on. It had chilled him to the bone that he did not know how to interact with people in a way that didn't implicitly treat them like objects. “Yes... yes, I do have a reason,†he said awkwardly. “The housing is not big enough. I will build barrels, ah, of different types so that we can experiment with where the mechanism for focusing the beam will be placed.†“But the larger barrel, it vill be heavier, ja? Ze balance of ze gun vill be off.†He stared at the diagrams. Dammit. Yes, of course, the barrel would overbalance the gun – the back would need to be counter-weighted. He frowned, and began to draw around the stock. How big of a weight would be needed, and how to accommodate that in the housing? How would it affect testing for that matter? The chalk broke under his fingers, and he swore under his breath as he tried to catch it. “I am sorry, I should have seen that,†he said, as Medic retrieved the chalk from where it had fallen beside the counter. It felt humiliating to miss something so obvious. “Do not let it vorry you. Here,†Medic handed it back. “It is merely anozzer problem to solve. I vill be vorking on ze chemical formulas for a few hours. Could you bring me some coffee later?†Heavy nodded, and Medic patted his shoulder again and vanished into the office. There were no smiles, now. Heavy found that he missed them. He hadn't seen the doctor smile properly since the incident. No. No more thinking on it. He had thought enough already, and dwelling on it was useless. There was no prediction possible, no course of action to consider any more. This was all he had left, now – his job, the new gun, and at least trying to use his intellect for something useful. He picked up the first pieces destined to become one of the prototype's barrels, and got to work.
Oh my gosh! This is updated! With such a plesantly simple chapter- I love it - it's like reading literature.
PART 17: SURPRISE His books had lost their appeal. Heavy wasn't sure why. His latest novel hadn't been opened in days, and when he did look at the pages, the words seemed to disappear. He'd spent hours losing himself in narratives – so much so that he'd made the study of them his whole life, until being hired by BLU – but they were pale and faded, now. His desire to read had been muted. Other interests had replaced it. Work on the new gun went well, and he found himself spending more time on Sascha. He drew new schematics, manufactured new bullets. Creating things with his hands was a blissfully thoughtless pasttime. Conversation was another; specifically conversation with Engineer and Sniper, on mundane, simple things. It was strange, but not unwelcome, that he should enjoy talking on a level that he would have previously considered to be beneath him. It was a journey, he told himself. A rediscovery, of sorts, of the life he had shunned for being less than intellectual. He needed to find his place in this new world, and it would not be without its surprises. Conversation with Medic was short, and typically only on the matter of the new gun, but he craved every word. Anything he could do for the doctor was his pleasure. Anything he could do, simply for the sake of doing it, without hope of favor or ulterior motive, would reaffirm that he could be a better person than he had been in the past. It was a desperate, ridiculous idea. Heavy knew he could not pay back what had been done with petty chores. In truth, he liked the doctor still, though the liking was tainted with guilt and self-loathing. It had grown, somehow, and become a little bit more than an attraction, but he couldn't put a name to it yet. Yet another Saturday night, and he walked along the hallway towards Sniper's nest. Spy had been busy this week, and vodka had been provided as well as the usual case of beer. Heavy decided to bring the last of his own stash as well, in case it finally gave him the courage to talk to Engineer about his deviant inclinations. The secret still gnawed at him. It didn't matter, if Medic didn't believe him, but he still wanted to talk to someone about it. And there was another thing he'd never needed to do before – seek the counsel of anyone about his own sexuality. He didn't even know what to say, only that it was the last falsehood that he was tired of carrying around in his heart. Less thinking. He shook his head again. Why did it always come back to that? He thought too much, and he over-thought everything. The habit wasn't so easy to break. Here are the facts, he told himself, as he juggled the bottle in his hands on his way up the ladder. You feel something for a man who is straight, who doesn't believe you're not, and whose marriage you helped to end. You've had a superiority complex your whole life that's left you deluded about actual people. Your friends, who are far too good for you, would likely shun you for being a deviant if they knew who you really are. And your other teammates are either drunk, insane, anti-social, or even more of a manipulative bastard than you were. He pushed the trapdoor to the sniping gallery up with a weighty sigh. All this, and just another four and a half years before his contract was up and he could go and wallow in misery elsewhere. He only had himself to blame. Heavy placed the bottle on the floor, and suddenly stopped. His hearing had not faltered, and some very familiar sounds reached his ears. The rustle of clothing. Faint, throaty noises. The sounds spoke of a very particular activity. He had to know what was going on. There was no deduction, no consideration of the possibilities. He'd been too wrong before. The only possible course was to know for sure, and remove all assumptions. Heavy lifted himself up quietly and shut the trapdoor behind him. The sniping gallery opened out into a larger room after a short distance, so it wasn't possible to see the entrance right away. They'd stacked crates and boxes to sit on around Sniper's usual spot, as well as spare bedrolls and anything else soft to use for cushioning. Heavy had come this way many times, and he could move quietly if he had to. The first thing he saw when he glanced around the corner of the wall was Engineer's back, bare to the waist. His overalls sagged over his ass. The next thing he saw was Sniper's hands, missing his usual glove, and the way that he reached greedily into the Texan's underwear. Engineer was sprawled on top of Sniper, and what they were doing was enough for him to jerk back out of sight with his cheeks flushed. Heavy took one breath, then another, and composed himself. Not a voyeur, so no more looking – even though he was in relative shock. He cleared his throat as loudly as he could, and waited. “Bloody hell!†There was a brief scuffle, and the sound of something falling over, and muffled swearing. There was a swishing noise of clothes being hastily re-adjusted to something more modest. It gave him time to consider the enormity of this event, and wonder about his two friends. And he had told himself that he was done with over-thinking things... “Er, Heavy?†Sniper called out after barely thirty seconds. “Yes?†he replied, still not trusting himself to emerge from behind the edge of the wall. There was a pained sigh from Engineer. “C'mon out, we're decent.†He took a quick glance for confirmation, then approached the pair cautiously. Sniper was bright red, and looked embarrassed enough to drop dead on the spot. Engineer was resigned, and a little fearful. This could not be a more awkward situation if it had been staged as such. Heavy still didn't know what to say, exactly. He had too many questions. In lieu of actually addressing the tension at hand, he offered the bottle of vodka to them. “I brought some of my own,†he muttered. “Thought you might like it.†“Look, mate, this ain't what it looks like, alright?†Sniper started. “No, it's exactly what it looks like. Ya think he's dumb or somethin'?†Engineer cuffed him upside the head. “We ain't talkin' our way outta this, Slim, so shut up for now.†“Please, Engineer,†Heavy said, holding up his hands, “I will say nothing to any other. I am understanding of such things. I have only one question – what is this, between you?†They looked at each other. Engineer sighed again. “I don't know that we really want to say.†“I have time, so you can explain. I am still your friend, Engineer. This much I promise,†Heavy said earnestly. The atmosphere became a little more friendly, and a little more like normal. They all sat down on their crates, as usual, and Engineer passed around the beers. “You know I don't judge ya for lyin' to fit in, big guy,†he said. “Not when I was doin' the same thing, you know?†“I wasn't, but only because I wasn't talking much,†Sniper added. Engineer glared at him. “What I'm sayin' is that we all got our problems, and lyin' to make life a little easier is okay when it don't hurt anyone else.†“What about your, eh, girl, in Texas?†Heavy asked. “Well... she's real, but she's my cousin. I ain't ever been married. There's no nice way of sayin' this, but...†“We're poofters,†Sniper said, with some finality and his head in his hands. “Back door bandits. Flaming homosexuals.†He paused. “You're not gonna judge, right?†Heavy suddenly snorted with laughter, and it was Engineer's turn to blush. The hilarity grew out of control as he thought about the absurdity of it all, and he laughed long and hard, much to their puzzlement. He'd been wrong – of course he'd been wrong, that trend seemed to be set in stone – but for once he was glad to be. “No, no. I will not judge,†he managed, after a few minutes. “In fact, I have been trying to get the courage to tell you – I am not a, what you said, a poofter? But I like men and women the same. I am like you.†“Well, slap my britches and call me Shirley, but I never once took ya for a kindred spirit, Heavy,†Engineer said with a wide grin. “Ain't that a fine thing? I'd like to see the odds on three of us bein' on one team of nine men.†The last weight on his mind seemed to vanish in a heartbeat. Kindred spirits, yes – that sounded like a good thing. And he realized that he had given up a vital piece of information about himself without even a second thought; something that could give them leverage over him, something that he would have hidden at all costs in another time. They were forced to share their secret with him, but he trusted them enough to share his last secret with them, and the exchange had happened as naturally as breathing. “I cannot say,†he said. “I only know that – I – so many times, Engineer. I wished to tell you what I am. I have lived with this... lie of what I am for too long.†Sniper looked at him suspiciously. “Just wanna be clear here, mate – he's not available and I ain't into threesomes.†Heavy blinked, suddenly caught on, and nearly choked on his beer. “N-no, no! Do not think for a second that I – you have nothing to fear. I am not interested in... either of you. I just wanted to be open, nothing more.†“Ya know, I got a feelin' that you're interested in someone, big guy,†Engineer said distantly. “In fact, if I had to lay a guess as to who, now that I know which way ya swing, I'd say you've a thing for the Doc.†Good grief. Was he that transparent? Heavy cringed. He couldn't bring himself to either lie outright and deny it, or admit it and face their judgment. “That's it, ain't it? You're lustin' after the German? Hol-ee shit, could you be any more stupid?†Engineer said. “Hang on, Truckie, whaddya mean?†Sniper clearly didn't get it. “Oh come on, Slim, think about it! That's why he was all gung-ho to get Ilse out of the picture!†Engineer shook his head. “What in tarnation d'ya think you were doin', puttin' the moves on a married man, Heavy? You gotta know guys like us have been lynched for less'n that!†“He does not believe me,†Heavy said quietly. “You TOLD him?!†He put the beer bottle on the ground, and clasped his hands as if he were in a confessional. “Yes, I told him. I was so wrong about everything, I could not live with the guilt. But he believes I am lying, to ease his mind after he drove her away.†He sighed. “I have been very stupid, and I have lied to myself.†The other two were very quiet for a while. Heavy thought he could almost feel their disapproval. Sniper broke the silence after a few minutes. “Yeah, mate. You've been really bloody stupid.†“I'm inclined to agree,†said Engineer. “Let's face it, though – you ain't the first to act like a fool over a man you can't have, an' you sure as hell ain't gonna be the last. All things considered, you got off pretty lightly, big guy.†“What do you mean?†Heavy asked. “Weeell, the Doc ain't gonna lynch you anytime soon, and his marriage would've failed eventually.†Engineer took a swig of his beer. “I guess you can go ahead an' feel bad about it, but this ain't exactly goin' into the annals of 'Most disastrous declarations of unrequited lust'.†“But what should I do?†“Whaddya mean, what should ya do?†Sniper said. “You do nothing, mate. Medic doesn't swing that way and he thinks you're just trying to feed him a line of crap so he doesn't feel so bad about Ilse running off to Scotland with a bloody one-eyed demolitions expert. If you've any sense at all, you'll keep your trap shut until the contract's up.†“Yeah. Just quit thinkin' about it if you can. Plenty other fish in the sea, etc etc.†Engineer finished his beer and grabbed another, then scooted over to sit cuddled up next to Sniper. Heavy opened the bottle of vodka despondently. It was good, sensible advice. He was simply sure he couldn't follow it.
Unexpected wonderful! Good lord, this update makes me so happy. Good to see you're back on the horse Doktor. Wishing you the best.
I'M SO HAPPY YOUR HEAVY IS NO LONGER A MANIPULATIVE DOUCHEBAG!! I left the thread just before the chapter where Ilse leaves, but it just kept coming up in new threads so I had to look and see what was going on... And I LOVE dis Heavy! Captcha: late onginI Alright, alright, no need to rub it in...
Wow, I really loved that last chapter. All the revelations had by so many people... I'm liking this story more and more as it goes on.
My OTP as a side pairing, could I be more happier than this? I doubt that
Doktor I'm going to die, I've been meaning to read this for SO LONG and now that I've actually had the time to do it I can't handle it. Good God, the characterization of Heavy throughout this whole thing and his identity crisis is magnificent and the fact that Trucks and Vans are a part of all this too? I don't think I'll make it through this. But wowie I can't wait for more. I'm glad Heavy stopped trying to control everything and sorta had a wake-up call with all of this. Now I just hope he can prove Engie and Sniper wrong and GET THAT DOKTOR. But boy will it take a lot of work. Regardless of all of my opinions on the characters, this is fantastic and I can't wait for more. No pressure of course, your health and well-being is top priority. But again, this is PERFECT and as usual I am beyond impressed with your work, Doktor.
PART 18: DISCOVERY It was his own fault. He'd told himself the same thing so many times. He'd already shouldered the blame as best he could. Things had been going... not well, but at least they weren't getting any worse. Medic didn't say much outside of talking about the new Medigun, but Heavy tried anyway. Sometimes he got a little more of the man the doctor used to be, the one that smiled brightly and talked with such enthusiasm about science and new discoveries. Usually he got short, tired answers, and little else. They were making progress. The gun was taking shape. Heavy threw all his time and effort into it, for Medic's sake. He build the shell of it himself, using his extensive knowledge of ballistics, and the doctor built its inner workings, and in many ways it became a fusion of them both. There were tests to run, reports to fill out. Medic's desk became stacked with drifts of paper, and after a pile tipped over and flooded the floor with medical notes, he decided that they had to be filed away properly. And so Heavy found himself in the storage room, passing binders and boxes up to Medic as he perched on a stool and carefully arranged them in order on the higher shelves. They were rapidly running out of space. “Have you thought about a name?†Heavy asked, hoping to strike up a conversation. Medic seemed disinclined to answer, preoccupied as he was, but he replied after a few moments. “For ze gun, you mean.†“Yes. A gun must have a name. My minigun is called Sascha.†“Ja, I know.†Medic fell silent again, and motioned for another box. He pushed it up onto the shelf, and glanced through the files before moving it next to the others. “Maybe, something to do with fighting?†Heavy suggested. “Engineer calls his shotgun, 'Frontier Justice'.†“Nein. I have a name already,†Medic said sharply. “Oh? Will you tell it now?†He passed another stack of binders to the doctor and waited patiently. Medic looked over them and placed them into another box, then paused. “I vill call it 'Kritzkrieg',†he said. “It is a reference to war.†Heavy frowned, trying to puzzle out the meaning. He knew 'krieg' meant war, but 'kritz'? He'd never heard that word before. Still, he wanted to be supportive. “It is a good name,†he said. “The Kritzkrieg gun. RED will be familiar with it soon.†Medic pushed the last box into place wearily. “Ja, zhey vill,†he said. “If I ever get ze liquid formula right...†He turned to step down, and his foot slipped. Medic lurched forward, all balance lost, and Heavy reached out to him by instinct. By pure, dumb chance, the doctor fell off the stool, and right into Heavy's astonished embrace. His arms closed around his waist. A narrow waist, with a strong chest pressing into his. Medic got his feet under him and stood, halfway between embarrassed and annoyed at himself, and Heavy could think of nothing else but him. Blue eyes so close to his own. Lips open to make some offhand remark, to dismiss the moment. Glasses slid down his nose, knocked askew. For some reason, it seemed as if he had never seen him before. As if he were not only seeing, but knowing as well, and this was the first time he had ever known him. The man who was Medic; handsome, intelligent, heartworn, and human. The man who had been hurt, who was recovering, who loved his work. Just a man, in every respect. A man worthy of every good thing, who didn't deserve the pain he had suffered. And he forgot, for a moment, where they were and who they were and all that had happened between them. Heavy moved so little. The tiny motion was enough to betray him. He inclined his head, let his lips part, their mouths drawing closer together; wanting and asking for intimacy that could never be given. It was his own fault, all of it. The moment would have passed naturally, without notice, but that one small action shattered it entirely. Medic's comment was never heard. His eyes went wide, and he shoved Heavy away from him, sending the bigger man stumbling back to catch himself on the door jamb. And then Heavy had to look at him, and take in the horror written large on his face as he flattened himself against the shelves, as the truth of what Heavy had told him weeks ago finally sunk in. His penance had well and truly arrived now. The doctor knew. He knew, and Heavy could not bear the hurt and judgment in his eyes. His only recourse was that of cowardice, and he mumbled something that sounded like an apology and ran from the infirmary. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Heavy walked quickly, avoiding the common areas, taking corridors left and right and trying to ignore the roar of his own heartbeat. He could never look Medic in the eye again. What would the rest of the team think, if the doctor told them? What would he think of Heavy now? What would happen to him, if any of it got back to BLU? Shut up. You brought this on yourself. Heavy slipped outside the main entrance to the base, and leaned against the wall. Finally the truth was out, but all he wanted to do was take it back. Let him hide a little longer. Let him keep Medic's friendship a little longer. Anything but that look, of incredulity and fear. A hand touched his shoulder, and he almost collapsed from fright at the thought that Medic had followed him. But the hand was attached to a hairy arm that disappeared into a rolled up blue shirt, and Sniper looked at him with concern. He was carrying a bag of what looked like beer and coffee. “Hey mate, you alright?†he asked. “I just got back from town.†Heavy grabbed his shoulders. “The doctor knows,†he said in anguish. “He knows my feelings! I made a mistake and I did something... What do I do?†The Australian's face fell. “Aw no, what happened? Don't tell me you tried to kiss him or something...†Heavy hung his head in shame. “You did, didn't you?†Sniper pulled his hat over his eyes. “Bloody hell, I was joking, mate.†“I did not mean to! He fell, and I caught him, and...†Heavy put his head in his hands. “I am doomed.†His friend patted his arm. “Best if we go talk to Truckie. I think he's got some bourbon saved up for just this kind of disaster.†Heavy nodded and followed him back into the base in silence. He looked around every corner for any sign of the doctor, and dreaded seeing any indication of his presence. Every shadow seemed to take the shape of his coat, and every sound had the tones of his voice. The sick feeling of worry grew with every passing second.
why end it there?! thanks for continuing this! it was the best non asked for Birthday gift ever! can't wait to see what happens next!
captcha: ocklool satisfaction What an incredibly accurate representation of my current mood. I won't be satisfied for long, though - I HAVE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT :D
Just caught up on this after a few months of forgetting about it... I love it so much. And you updated on my birthday! So excited for the next installment. Note: I put sage in my email, haven't been on here in a while so if this does bump, I'm very sorry.
PART 19: ANGER Heavy knew he'd regret it in the morning. He also knew that it took quite a lot of alcohol for him to really get drunk. He could only blame his current state of inebriation on the quality and strength of Engineer's whiskey. It was only putting off the inevitable, he thought miserably. What did any of it matter anymore? All that he had been was cast aside as defective. The friendship he had wanted so much was broken. The relationship he had hoped for was never, ever going to happen, and his hope – he was going to be honest with himself, he had still hoped for it – was utterly in vain. All gone, as soon as he saw Medic's face. Sniper and Engie could sympathize, but they had their own love affair to keep them warm. They were not in danger of having their private life exposed to the rest of the team. They didn't have to face disgust and horror from the one person who... Dammit. He didn't care. He had to tell himself that it didn't matter. Medic would keep him at arms' length, shun him, maybe even demand a transfer. He already knew that BLU were aware of his sexuality and they didn't make an issue of it. The irrational panic he had felt over that particular possibility had faded at least. If Medic did, well, that was his problem. Every thought along those lines rang hollow. He staggered along the corridor, back towards the infirmary. They'd tried to stop him, and he'd shook them off. It was better to do this while he was drunk, when it wouldn't hurt so much. He had to face the doctor some time. Why not at close to midnight, with a battle the next day where he'd be inevitably hung over? What would happen to the Kritzkrieg gun now? Medic needed him to help finish it and test it. The more he thought about it, the more he believed a transfer would be the most likely outcome – a transfer to another base, with another Heavy to help him. A straight Heavy who could be trusted to keep his hands to himself. The self-loathing and self-pity gnawed away at him as he reached the infirmary door. He slammed it open, and found it exactly as he had left it. The light in the store room was off, and the doctor's office beckoned. Just go do it. Get it over with. Find out his reaction, then you can go to bed and concentrate on forgetting everything. Heavy walked unsteadily towards the office. Every step was harder than the last. The only thing that kept him going was the remains of his self-respect. He leaned on the doorframe to keep his balance, and found Medic sitting at his desk with a few large books open in front of him. The doctor stood up as soon as he appeared. He was guarded, wary of Heavy. The door, then, would be as far as he would go – no closer to Medic, unless he moved closer himself. He had expected contempt. Fear. All the usual reactions to a man who liked to have sex with other men. Medic was closed to him, however, and he could not tell a damn thing about what he was feeling. The doctor was not threatening him yet, which was... probably good. Probably. “Heavy,†he said evenly by way of greeting. “I wish to know what you plan to do,†Heavy said, partly concentrating on the words and partly keeping himself upright. “Now you know, and you also believe me. Tell me what you will do.†Medic cleared his throat, and flicked a few pages back in the largest book open on his desk. “I believe my duty is clear,†he said. “You have a... disorder. I have reviewed ze appropriate medical texts, and it can be treated viz a combination of behavioral therapy and hormone treatments...†He listened to an ever-lengthening list of medical terminology. It worked through his foggy mind slowly, but he understood the most basic part of it. Medic thought he was sick. He thought that men like him were sick. Heavy stared at him in disbelief. His soul instantly rebelled against the idea. He could not accept, not even for a moment, that such a thing could be true; he would doubt everything else about his life, but this was inviolate. He was not sick. He was not abnormal for choosing to follow his desires. “No,†he said quietly. Medic stopped his monotonous recitation, and looked at him. “No? Vhat do you mean?†“I am fine. I have nothing to be cured of.†His voice was a little stronger, a little more certain. Medic picked up his book, and offered it to him. “Heavy, you must understand, zis is not normal. Zhese impulses should not be directed at... a man. You must unlearn zhem -†“NO!†It was all clear now. He wasn't telling him this nonsense to convince him – he was telling him to convince himself. It was easier to believe that Heavy was sick than accept the truth! “Do not argue viz me, Heavy,†he snapped. “I am a doctor, and you should listen to my diagnosis.†“No! I will not listen to this! I am not sick!†“IT IS A DISORDER!†Medic shouted. “It is unnatural and destructive!†Heavy walked to the desk, every other thought and feeling lost in rage, and slammed his hands down on it. “You DARE call me unnatural?! Look at the gun we have built! Look at our Respawn system! We die and live again every day, do you think that is natural? How much destruction is there in feeling as I do?†Medic closed the book with a loud thump. “You drove away my wife,†he hissed. For a moment it stung, deeply and coldly. The pain of guilt was familiar. The look in Medic's eyes, of blame and hatred and a hundred other things, was not. Heavy's mouth set in a hard line. He could not, would not, back down from this, not even if it cost him everything. He would not be called a freak, an invalid, because of how he felt – not now, not ever, and not even by Medic. “If she had really loved you, nothing in this world could have driven her away,†he said. The doctor recoiled from him as if he'd been punched. Heavy turned and left, feeling far more sober than when he had walked in. It was over. Nothing further was left to be said. His room was cold. He laid out on the bed and tried to rest, but rest seemed impossible. It would be impossible for some time, it seemed. There was a hole in his heart where the thoughts of Medic usually resided, an emptiness that wouldn't go away. What did it matter anymore? The doctor would transfer out, if he was sensible, or Heavy would transfer out and forget all about this base. Ilse would be forgotten. Sniper and Engineer would be forgotten too. But... no more delusions. He could not forget Medic. The hole that didn't seem to want to go away told him so. It should have only been an attraction, a physical thing, easily turned aside when it was clear that there could be no more hope. But he'd held on; why would he do that? It was obvious. It was more than attraction. Perhaps that was his penance, to have feelings for a man who undoubtedly hated him now. It would have been easier to go along with it, to allow Medic the illusion that he was simply ill, as opposed to him being the kind of bastard who'd break up a man's marriage. He could never do it. The universe, if it had planned this all along, had a cruel sense of humor. And the insult he'd thrown at him... He'd said it to hurt Medic, in the heat of the moment, but that didn't stop it from ringing true to him. He'd still blamed himself, all this time, in spite of all Engineer's attempts to convince him otherwise, but the moment of clarity that had let him say it to Medic's face lingered. If Ilse had truly loved him, she would have never left. She would have fought for his time, his attention. She hadn't, and when the opportunity came, she had left. He was over-thinking things again. It didn't matter, now. All that mattered was who was going to transfer away first. He still hoped that it wouldn't have to be him. One thing was certain, however – he could not regret what he said. And he could not regret what he was.
gosh dangit please don't let it go out like that ;_;
After all the guilt-trip Heavy has gone through, in my opinion it's honestly refreshing to see the universe give him a chance to get mad at Medic for a change. Not that Heavy himself feels all that refreshed... This fic could yet end on a very sad note, I'm still curiously reading where you'll take it. :)
As much as I hate to say it, I agree with 181. It would hurt more than anything in the world, but a sad ending is very unusual and very hard to pull off. I'd be impressed if you could, but I'm an old-fashioned, Heavy-sympathising sucker for a good old gets-the-guy happy ending :')
I think I have done the 'sage' thing correctly, please feel free to punch me in the face if I did not. The Demo love was an amazing part of the plot. Lovely. c: As for Heavy and Medic, ho ho ho, it is becoming intense. I like it very much. You are quite amazing and your plot is fabulous and I love reading your work. I anxiously await more. Stay amazing, Doktor.
I think I've lost control of my life. Eh. More of this whatever. ------------------------------------- PART 20: FIGHT Heavy believed he knew what tension felt like. He had thought himself immune to such things for a long time. Tension was born of shame, or fear, and he had felt little of either. His intelligence was such that rationality kept any such feelings at bay. But he was aware of it, and he saw it in others, and wondered at how they let themselves come to that. Hubris was a terrible thing. Heavy was new to the feeling of sickening, nauseous, crippling tension coiling around his gut. Once he had accepted that his friendship with the doctor was lost, the uncertainty of what they were now, and what he would say, and a hundred other things, had grown out of control. He felt it as they stood before the gate in the morning, waiting to run out and fight and die, and rise and run out again. He felt it in the way that Medic avoided his gaze and even his presence since the night before. He felt it in knowing that no one on the team knew, bar Sniper and Engineer, what had happened, and they expected them to work together. The gate dropped, and the team rushed out, and Heavy was left behind. He pulled himself together and got to work, but there was no disguising the fact that Medic stayed away from him at any cost and healed Soldier and Pyro on the front lines. Heavy hung back, lurked near Engineer's nest, and helped with defense as best he could. In the dark heart of the night, he had cursed everything about the base – his arrival, his stupid ideas, his current feelings, everything. And a hundred times he had told himself, 'If you had only...' The battle raged. They advanced to the center point, and then the REDs hunkered down for a long, vicious stalemate. His frustration grew as he couldn't move up to help the team; with no healing, and far from Engineer's dispenser, he was too slow to be useful as anything but a distraction. Heavy was almost ready to just go back to base for the rest of the day when a huge explosion rocked the whole area, nearly knocking them both off their feet. “What in hell was that?†Engineer said. “It came from the point, I think,†Heavy said, peering out of the shed where they were set up and towards the big grey building that housed their objective. No sign of any trouble, and the battlefield was deceptively quiet for a moment. There was something wrong. “You better go check it out, big guy,†Engineer said worriedly. “If you wanna be fast, leave yer gun here and use your shotgun. I promise I'll take care of her for ya.†Heavy nodded, and tucked Sascha behind the sentry. He'd do this much and then go. Without Sascha, he moved quicker than his team would have believed. He ran from cover to cover, and made it inside the building in a few minutes. The whole place smelled like gunpowder and death, which was not so surprising – but it was still remarkably quiet, and it bothered him more than he could say. The point was in a large room in the lower level, through a maze of corridors and chokepoints and stairs, most of which were scarred with bullet holes and scorch marks. As he made his way down, the signs of battle became far more obvious. The fighting was always thickest on the objective itself. But it seemed that the layer of dust and bits of rubble was more than he ever seen before, and the pervasive quiet just wasn't going away. Fearing the worst, he scuttled up to the door to the center point room and peered inside. It was gone. He stared at the wreckage of the point. The lights under it were flickering, faintly, but the surface was cracked, charred, and broken. It was supposedly indestructible. The blue stickybomb fragments all around it seemed to suggest that it was merely very, very tough. The walls were streaked with black soot and smears of blood, and anything within twenty feet of the point was a twisted, burned mess. Pieces of a sentry lay forlornly in one corner. It was a stupid plan, but it had worked. Demo must have blown up everything, including the enemy Engineer's nest and both teams, in order to keep the REDs off the point. He hadn't left anyone there to take it afterwards, but now that Heavy was here, he could make the capture and hopefully push them onwards. He took out his shotgun and went to stand on the point. The lights immediately brightened and returned to their normal strength, and the capture clock began to tick down. He had to get it before the REDs tried to counter-attack. If he was quick, they could break the stalemate and win this. A noise behind and to his left almost made him jump out of his skin. There was a faint groan, and movement behind a twisted pile of metal and concrete. A RED that survived? Heavy wasn't going to take any chances. He hefted his shotgun, and stood his ground on the point. The movement became a blue glove and a white labcoat as the figure pulled themselves out of the wreckage, groaning and coughing in pain. It was Medic – his Medic, still alive, and badly hurt. For a moment, Heavy simply stared. Then he took a step forward automatically, and stopped himself. He had to leave the point to help him, and that meant losing it. Medic could just respawn once the REDs showed up and killed him. When the doctor looked up, and saw Heavy on the point, he stared back with shock in his eyes. If he was being logical, he should stay put. If he was being logical. There were faint shouts from the RED side of the building, and Heavy was spurred into action. He tossed his shotgun to one side and ran to Medic; the capture stopped immediately. He hauled the last of the wreckage off the German and got an arm under him, while he tried to push Heavy away. “Vhat are you doing? Get back to ze point,†he said weakly. “Shut up,†Heavy snapped. He pulled Medic upright in spite of his protest and hiss of pain. Heavy half-carried, half-dragged him out of the room, into the relative safety of the corridors, just as the RED Soldier and Scout arrived. The point turned into a chaotic mess of rockets and explosions as their own Soldier and Demo charged in from the other side. Heavy threw the doctor against the wall and shielded him from a close blast that set his ears ringing and knocked down another shower of dust. For a moment, they were closer than they had ever been. The world turned, and became nothing. The feeling of warmth through his jacket was bittersweet, the feeling of breath on his neck was everything he wanted and couldn't have. Medic was rigid, scared, and the moment would pass as soon as he recovered, and Heavy would let him go and curse everything that had brought him to this; to the loss of all his reason for a man who could never... He stepped back as Medic pushed him away, fear now turning to anger. “We have lost ze point, idiot! Vhy did you not stay?!†He had no answer that didn't sound ridiculous. “We need you alive,†he managed. “I vould have respawned viz ze rest, you ignorant ape! Now you do not even have a veapon to defend yourself! Ve vill never vin zis battle -†“I do not care about the battle,†Heavy said savagely. “I care -†He stopped, and clammed up. Medic's eyes narrowed. But what did it matter, if he knew the reason? The truth already hung between them, unspoken. “I care for you,†Heavy said. “I will protect you if I can.†For a moment, Medic said nothing. When he spoke, his voice was choked, thick with emotion. “I do not vant your protection, or your caring. I hate you.†Heavy took a deep breath, in and out. “I know,†he said defeatedly. “I cannot... I know. I am sorry.†He walked away, leaving Medic to do as he liked. The doctor could regenerate, if he had time to rest during a battle, and Heavy had to stay away if he could. He felt stupid, now. His feelings ran too deep, and they were too hard to identify, and hearing those words from Medic hurt. He was a liability as long as he was anywhere near the doctor on the battlefield, and the sooner one of them left, the better. It seemed almost like poetic justice that he got backstabbed by the enemy Spy on his return to Engineer's nest.
...Dang it. I cried at the end. The image that came from the last line just...I don't know what to say. So much emotion right now. I'm so happy that you update the story. And also feel so sad now after I finish reading this. Poor Heavy. Sorry I'm not good with english so I don't know how to be a good critic. All I can say is, I love this story and I cannot wait too read more. Thank you Ze Doktor for updating this.
Ooh. Harsh.
Dear god. This is beautiful, and for once I'm reading a fanfic which isn't just a load of smut. And then Medic say WHAT??? He needs to do some research into human sexuality and stop believing what religious people or whoever have told him. And Doktor, I hope your problems lessen. I send you the concern of a small internetter who loves your work.
Always seems odd to me when people have medic refuse healing just because of a personal issue. Petty. And unprofessional. Sniper would disapprove! But anyways... A transfer really would be for the best, but is that what is actually going to happen? As always, Doktor, you have me on the edge of my seat. @TSOM Think for a bit: this story takes place in the 60s. Even now people still think that being gay is a choice; and a lot of phony research and studies back then "proved" that.
PART 21: SORROW “Do you think he will leave?†Heavy asked. Sniper cracked open another beer, and lounged back into Engineer’s arms. “Depends, mate. Will BLU let him go?†“I cannot say. The research is important. And BLU are… not so flexible. I think perhaps they will keep him here.†“Can’t be good for you or him, big guy,†Engineer said. “You ever think of going?†Heavy had considered it. For all that the situation with Medic was uncomfortable, he was torn between leaving that behind and losing his friends. He was stymied, undecided, and so the only course of action was none at all. He shrugged. “I do not know. I do not want to go.†They accepted that answer, and the conversation changed topic. Engineer nuzzled the back of Sniper’s neck, and Sniper stroked his hands. They were huddled in the nest again, drinking their cares away, and since Heavy had learned of their relationship, Engineer and Sniper were more comfortable in being affectionate around him. He never minded, not really, but it made him feel like an outsider, sometimes. He envied them. The nest was getting colder at night, under clear, moonlight skies. The warm summer was passing quickly. It wasn’t so bad, and it was certainly no Siberia, but he noticed it every time he saw Sniper and Engineer together. Heavy still enjoyed their company, of course. He was just… lonely. His thoughts drifted to Medic again. How much had changed, since he first saw him? How much had happened? It had been six months, and it felt like an eternity, like another world. They were different people, though he still sometimes felt like he would suddenly wake up and be the person he was before. He shook his head, and put down his empty beer bottle. The problem of how he became consumed by his own thoughts had persisted. “I think I will go to bed. It has been a long day, a long week. Goodnight, comrades.†He stood, and a glint of light caught his eye from the window. Heavy turned curiously, and looked out over the battlements just below the nest. The outside of the base should be deserted this late at night. There was a figure standing at the edge of the railing. He wanted it to be someone else, but that shape would be familiar to him even without the white coat, Medipack and gun. He breathed in and out, willing his chest to cease the sudden tight feeling. “Medic is outside,†he said, moving to the window. “Why is he there?†Sniper got up clumsily, and they both went to look, with the Australian staring over the head of his much shorter lover. “Is he thinkin’ of jumpin’ or something?†he asked. “It don’t matter a damn if he does, Respawn’ll catch him,†Engineer said. “I don’t like this one bit -†“I must go,†Heavy said suddenly. The certainty of where he needed to be had appeared out of nowhere, but now it had solidified in his mind and nothing would stop him from going to the doctor. He left the window and almost fell over a crate in his scramble to get to the trapdoor. “Dammit, Heavy, are you crazy?!†He missed the last of Engineer’s shout as it closed above him, and he slid down the ladder. He could move fast when he had to, when he wasn’t carrying around a weighty minigun. He ran down the corridor and up the stairs, twisting and turning; he wanted to be there already, though he had no idea of how Medic would react. The thought of the doctor throwing himself off the battlements filled him with the most awful kind of dread, despite knowing that death was not eternal for them. The loud crack of the door to the battlements being slammed open raked across his nerves, and he instantly regretted his rush. He only came to a halt halfway through it, with one hand on the handle, as he met the doctor’s eyes. They were twenty feet apart, and it seemed like twenty miles. Medic was standing at the railing, a piece of paper in one hand, with no coat and no tie. The strangeness of seeing him a little less than fully dressed was overshadowed by his expression; he was haunted, beaten, as if every scrap of light and meaning had vanished from the world. He could not even muster up the energy to show contempt. Heavy closed the door, far more softly than he had opened it. Medic said nothing, and only looked back out across the battlefield again. Was this a ceasefire, between them? A tacit measure of acceptance? Heavy wasn’t sure if that was hopeful or terrifying, if Medic appeared to be so dead inside. He gathered his courage, and set one foot in front of the other. The twenty feet became fifteen, and then ten. There he stopped, his bravery having run out. What to say, what to say… nothing seemed right. The whole situation seemed cracked and broken, a thing which should never have existed, and they were only here and now because the world itself had forgotten its own rules. Medic broke the silence for him. “She is gone,†he said quietly. The paper rustled in his fingers. He seemed to move automatically, as if he were reading from a script and acting out a play. “Ze divorce is final. She is gone. I hoped…†He bowed his head, his eyes drooped, and a sigh escaped from his lips. “I should not have hoped zhat she vould come back. She vas alvays her own voman.†The finality of his words hung in the air. Heavy grieved for him, with him, and didn’t know how to tell him. Simply saying ‘I’m sorry’ was trite, meaningless, and worthless; likewise telling him that it would get better. Medic had seemed to drive himself on the weight of his anger; anger at Heavy, at Engineer, at Demo, at himself. Now even that was gone. The doctor raised his hand, and opened his fist. His golden wedding ring shone weakly in the moonlight; the final symbol of what he had lost. His fingers closed over it again, his arm came up, and Heavy had never moved so fast in his life as he closed the last distance between them and reached out for Medic’s wrist. “NO!†Heavy caught him before he could throw it out onto the battlefield. Medic did not resist, and perhaps was not capable of it at all. “No,†he said again, far more gently. “Do not do this. Please, do not do this.†He pulled Medic around to face him, away from the railing. The letter slipped to the ground. The doctor stared at him, and through him, as if he were seeing someone else. “It vas my fault,†he whispered. “All my fault. I never deserved her.†Heavy could say nothing in reply. This was not an act of defiance, or revenge; the look in the doctor’s eyes was that of horror, at himself, and he was so close to breaking down that even a single word would cast him over the edge. He was just a man, a beautiful, brilliant, vibrant man whose mistakes had come due at last, and it was killing him by inches. He’d take the pain away, if he could. Heavy would have given up the world to have the old Medic back – the one who smiled, who talked excitedly about his work, who was careful and mannerly and precise. He wanted to reassure him that it would pass and he would heal, someday. Maybe if he could do that, his own heart would not hurt so much. There were no words left. Here and now, there was only pain shared between them; pain, and loss, and grief. Anger, blame; such things faded away. Pointless, so very pointless, in the face of both their sins. Heavy wrapped his arms around him. He had nothing else to offer, bar some kind of comfort. Maybe that would be enough to hold them both together, in lieu of words, if the doctor would let him. Medic hardly moved. He did not react as he was pulled in close. Heavy held him tightly, with one hand around his waist and the other on his shoulder, and it shocked him how cold he seemed. The doctor was so much smaller without the Medipack and without his coat. He wanted to say everything, and nothing. The jumble of thoughts and feelings demanded to be voiced but were too messy to separate and describe. He was still trying so hard to be rational, here where rationality had no place. Medic hardly moved, but it seemed as if he only stood because Heavy held him up. He did not even push him away, and that alone spoke of exhaustion so bone deep that he was beyond any other consideration. Whatever had driven him out to the battlements to cast away the last of his life with Ilse had faded away, leaving nothing at all; no feeling, no sense of self, no hope. Heavy wanted to give him hope. He wanted to hold him close forever, promise him that the world would not always hurt so much, tell him… Suddenly the jumble smoothed itself out, and the truth rose out of it and caught in his throat. He knew the words that he wanted to say, that almost demanded to be said, but he could not lay such a truth at the feet of a man in pain. It would only take a word to break Medic. He could not let it come from him. Tell him that he is loved. It did not burn within him, but his heart beat in time with it. It was simply knowledge, pure and certain, of love, running so deep in his mind that he could not find the end of it, or the beginning. It healed him and wounded him in equal measure, both tragedy and joy. He thought he had experienced love, that he could recognize it within himself, but the feeling that poured through his veins was far beyond that. It lived for a single smile, for a kind word, for a gentle touch, knowing that any of those would wrap him in joy; it ached, in painful and terrifying sorrow, that he could never, ever have them. It was not his friends he feared to lose, if he transferred out. He loved too much to leave, and it hurt too much to stay. Heavy squeezed his eyes shut. There had to be a decision, a resolution. Let this past be another world, if just for a little while. He stepped back from Medic, and opened his eyes. He took the doctor’s shoulders as gently as possible. “Someday, you will want to remember,†he said. “Do not do this now. Better to sleep, and… think. If you still feel this way tomorrow…†He lifted Medic’s hand, still closed around the ring. “…there will be many chances to throw it away.†Medic finally seemed to see him. Heavy smiled weakly, and sadly; he was still lost, but at least there was no more hatred in his eyes. He let his hand go, and stepped to one side. “Come inside?†he asked. The doctor nodded. He walked, and Heavy followed; along the battlements, down into the base, and towards his room. It seemed enough simply to get him to a safe place, and Heavy was not prepared to invade his privacy. He stopped at the door, as Medic turned the handle. “Goodnight,†he said quietly. Medic paused, but did not reply. In a moment, the door closed behind him, and Heavy was left alone in the corridor. Let the past be another world… he was far beyond that now, in parts unknown. The storm had passed, and all was calm, and there was nothing left to do but build again. Whatever had existed between him and the doctor seemed to have been washed away. They were different people now. Not friends, and not enemies, but something closer than strangers. He went to his room, and for once there was no mess of distracting thoughts to puzzle through. Things had been complicated, and now they were simple. Medic needed to be loved, and protected. He was capable of that much at least. The knowledge, of unrequited love, he would have to bear as best he could.
I have waited SO long! I came back every few days just to see if something I loved was updated and YES. YES!!! Suicide attempt was a little out of the blue for me, but I can imagine Heavy didn't expect it as well, so I guess that evens out. ^^ Maybe the drama got a little thick at the suicidal scene, but I still loved it! Especially the setup you can work with now! Can't wait to see what you'll do with iT!
oh my.. i can honestly say this is one of the best STORIES as well as fanfictions i have ever read, it's so well timed and emotional, such great character development and such amazing writing. easy to read and emotionally bounding, my image of medic and heavy is slightly different though this is written so goddam well that it doesn't bother me one bit thank you for doing this and please god update soon <3
like insecuriosity mentioned, now that there is a sort of level base to work off of, I can't wait to see how their friendship (and more?) builds from here. Thanks for working on this story! It's been a joy to read!
Please type "sage" into the email box next time so you do not bump a story that is over 6 months old. People, like myself, will think that the story was updated by its author, and be considerably irate and/or let down that is was just someone not being courteous to others.
I wish that this would be updated, this story is so dramatic, amazing, and it has many parts that have managed to make me sad! I hope the Author is okay, and they are able to continue!
This was absolutely beautiful. I wish this would get another part; this is so well written, I think I've broken down crying at least 3 times.
Beautiful, looking forward to your next update.