|
>>
|
No. 4996
Russia, Part 3
---
Soldier and Engineer stayed nearly a week in Moscow within one of the sixty-three bedrooms of their teammates' enormous home. The hosts made a habit of cooking dinner every night, while dining upon lunch in the city during the day. A four drew themselves quite a bit of public attention due to Heavy's extraordinarily large build and the obvious less-than-Russian natures of his associates. It was the final night of Soldier and Engineer's visit when the sky had been smeared with the identical variant of gray as the afternoon the two first arrived at the manor. Heavy and Engineer were collecting the empty dishes from the long table in the extravagant dining hall; Medic however, was still at work. He was a notoriously slow eater. While Engineer and Heavy retreated to the kitchen to deposit the dirty dishes, Soldier stood and took a seat directly across from the German still savoring his veal.
"Hey, Doc..." Soldier started, as he slowly (as well as uncharacteristically) removed his much-too-large ushanka and gripped it calmly in his hands while staring at the doctor from across the table.
"Yes, Herr Soldat?" Medic responded casually, still chewing a bite of the tender meat.
"I wanted to wait until Engie and Heavy were gone; I don't think they should hear this," the American said grimly. Medic immediately stopped chewing and swallowed, glaring intently back.
"Vhat is it?" he asked.
"Most of us joined BLU to get a paycheck, but... you didn't," Soldier said slowly. Medic face began sagging; he knew where this was going. "Engie pointed it out to me, that it wasn't the money that was important to you," Soldier continued. "So, Doc, I need to know why you joined BLU."
The two stared at each other momentarily, neither moving an inch, before Medic allowed his hand (gloved, even at dinner) to go limp and drop his expensive fork onto the dinner plate.
"Soldier... you know vhy..." Medic said quietly. Soldier had deduced as such.
"Doc, I won't judge you," Soldier gulped. "You're... a friend," he admitted. Medic eyes shot back up and he stared at Soldier with the most pitiful eyes the American had ever seen the doctor display. "But, I need to hear it. I need to hear what you did."
Medic hesitated. He had never said it before. Even when recruited by BLU, the employers all danced around the details, and the slurs he suffered from his teammates (Soldier among them) would have just as easily been aimed at anyone else from his national background. He had never admitted what he had done. The doctor took a deep breath.
"I joined zhe German ranks in nineteen-forty two, and vas immediately stationed at Treblinka," Medic began, a somber tone to his lowering voice. "I vas only eighteen at zhe time... so stupid..." Soldier sat in silence as Medic spoke. "I willingly participated in zhe torture and murder of over two-hundred zhousand people upon my arrival..." the doctor, now staring blankly at an empty space on the dining table, removed his glasses and began furiously rubbing his eyes. "I vas transferred to Belzec in early nineteen-forty zhree, vhere I vas present for zhe massacre of over one-hundred zhousand more..." Medic's voice began to crack. "And zhen I ran. I ran from my guilt and left Germany for Austria, alvays just ahead of zhe Nazi head hunt, not zhat it vasn't undue..." Soldier hadn't moved an inch. Medic dropped his glasses onto the table and shielded his entire face with both hands, speaking into his palms. "And zen, after years of running, BLU offered me a way to erase my past so I vould no longer have to run." Medic slammed a fist onto the table. The collection of plates and silverware, used and unused, rattled momentarily. "Soldier..." The German was now crying, tears streaming down his face as if the man had never shed a tear in his life. "Y-you vere right, in BLU..." The gaps between Medic's words were increasing, his sobbing withdrawals forcing his entire body to convulse. "I am a Nazi, I'm a murderer... God! I should be dead!" he shouted.
This was it. This is what Soldier needed to hear from him.
"A-and... you called me you're friend," Medic sobbed, fiercely wiping his wet and reddening face with his gloved hands. He laughed nervously. "I'm pathetic," he muttered, still facing the tabletop.
"Medic, you are my friend," Soldier said softly. "Look at me."
"I-I c-can't... I can't..." Medic refused.
"Yes you can," Soldier said. Medic had never heard the man speak this way. He had never seen the American behave in such a manner at all.
"S-Soldat..."Medic continued to sob into his gloves. "Y-you've changed."
"You've changed too," Soldier said. The doctor reeled his soaking face up to look at the man across from him. "You've got a second chance, and whether you think it's fair or not, you shouldn't waste it."
"S-Soldier..." Medic stuttered, his profuse crying beginning to lighten. "Vhy... vhy not in front of zhe ozzhers?"
"Engie and Heavy are soft..." Soldier explained. "It doesn't matter what they believe, because they can also not believe it. It's easier for them. But me..." Soldier sighed. "I had to know. But they can't. They can't ever /know/." Soldier stood up while placing his ushanka back on and pushed back his chair. "Thanks for dinner, Doc," he said, before calmly making his way to the kitchen to rejoin with Engineer and Heavy.
Medic sat there, gazing down at himself. He was a mess. He couldn't believe that it was... Soldier that reduced him to such a state. He had been so weak. The doctor replaced his spectacles. He engaged every muscle in his body he could think of and whispered to himself, "Thank you, Soldier."
---
It was a series of many handshakes and goodbyes later that had led to the pair of Americans finally leaving from the property and back onto the snowy Moscow streets. Medic solemnly closed the front door, retreating from the bitter cold air.
"Dokter okay?" Heavy asked. Medic turned to him. He had cleaned his features up considerably before meeting with Heavy and Engineer again, though his state was far from ideal. His weakened humor was obvious.
"Yes, Heavy, zhank you," the doctor said. "I... actually feel much lighter," he added. Heavy arched his brows in confusion.
"Lighter?" the Russian asked, confused. Medic chuckled.
"It's nozzhing," he shrugged off. The two made their way about the main hall, extinguishing the many lit candles for the evening
"Dokter," Heavy started. "Do you tink zhat vhe could ever be like, you know, Soldier and Engineer?" The German stopped and shot an utterly puzzled look at the man, before turning it into a sly smirk.
"Are you attracted to me, Herr Heavy?" the doctor teased. Medic had never fancied himself a homosexual, but he couldn't deny the topic amused him
"Umm, vell no," Heavy admitted, his eyes darting around everywhere nervously. "But togezzher, zhey seem nice," he explained. "You know zhat /I/ vould love you Dokter." Medic laughed again, louder this time.
"Heavy, if I ever vake up vone morning and find zhat I begin preferring men, you vill be zhe first to know."
------------------------------
Note: I included the segment at the end to try and help solidify the sort of friendship Medic and Heavy have in this particular story. They aren't gay, just really epic bromance.
|