I am unsure whether I am exploding out of anticipation or rage.

Cliffhangercliffhangercliffhangercliffhanger! Caaat! What happens next?

I spent most of this chapter flapping my hands and fanning myself (and squeaking with joy at Heavy and Pyro's reunion) and that ending oh my god I'm actually nauseous. Damn you Cat.

I love your stories.
But I'm gonna be anal and point out a typo.
...said Engineer with a sigh. “I just… he’s never seemed t’ be comfortable with Doktors...
It made me giggle a bit.

Oh my. This was nothing short of glorious. Wonderful!

Damn your cliffhangers, Cat!
Nonetheless, I am still so extremely glad you have updated. I totally should have seen all of this coming. Stupid me.

Also, Captcha: random Turkish words. HOW?

>>5

I KNOW.

DP SHOULD HAVE FIXED THAT AND HE SPOTTED IT AND I DIDN'T DOUBLECHECK AND it will be fixed later on Dotchan's site.

OH HOLY SHIT THIS STORY'S BACK.

Thank you, you wondrous golden god. I thought it was gone forever.

Hooray, an update! I love this story. But I wonder why Engineer didn't just enlist Medic (and maybe Pyro's) help when he left? It feels a bit like passing the baton -- Heavy gets taken out, send Engineer. Engineer gets taken out, send Medic. Maybe he didn't want Medic to worry?

Glad to see this updated. Still, it might make more sense to send two people over than one, if Johnny was able to disable the biggest man on the team in such a short amount of time.

I think that's cause if Engi tells Medic, Medic and Heavy will leave Solly alone and that's not a good idea.

Or engie just wasn't thinking straight.
Keep calm and build a sentry.
Then put it through the teleporter.

I had to try so hard not to scream since it is 12:30 am here but AKJHGAKDGHAKSDJHGKALSJHG AHHHHH
AHHHH
CAT YOU
YOU MAGNIFICENT THING AKJHGKAJD!!

homg i can't wait for the next chapter sjdakfjghadfkghdfagh

Goddammit, now I don't have any fingernails left! Cat, you magnificent cliffhangerer you.

Tiny punctuation typo: "Could it be that even Heavy was frightened of this man."

omfg alsidgh i am so happy that this exists. i loved Reunion, didn't realize there was a sequel to it, and read all 12 chapters and this just tonight. i'm now so incredibly pumped and just...ugh. such great writing and character development and holy shit john is a legitimately dangerous and frightening and utterly unlikable antagonist. i'm on the edge of my seat here. i don't get this way often but holy shit i am so into this.

also i hope scout shows up at some point because i am a massive faggot. ...by which, of course, i mean i want to see the whole team get together and fuck this guy up and save soldier and ride off on unicorns into a pink, sparkle-laden sunset.

CB, I know what you like to do with Heavies. Don't do it.

>>17
Same goes for Pyros.
Not going to outright bar you from it, but every amazing fic (from you and otherwise) likes to do horrible things to the poor baby.

Keeping fingers crossed that Medic can understand Pyro over the phone and that Demo and Sniper swing by for breakfast sooner rather than later. Teetering on the edge of my seat!
(captcha was 'fyingee soldier', heh)

This whole fic I have been having a wide variety of emotions. All because of this fic.

Keep it up. Also I hope no one dies, please let know one die. I loved them all from <i>Reunion</i> which was also great.

Part 14 is here.

Enjoy.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________



Engineer blinked away the light from his eyes and found himself in Soldier’s apartment. He stepped off the teleporter, and tightened his grip on his gun. There didn’t seem to be anyone in the living room, or anyone else visible for that matter. “Johnny?” Engineer called out. “John, I know you’re in here. Show yourself, you son of a bitch!”

There was a thudding, rattling sound, and Engineer perked his head towards the closet. Another thud, and the door shook as it was pounded on from the inside. Engineer took a deep breath and crept towards the door, casting glances down the hall at the opposite end of the apartment as he did.

“Engineer!” a voice called out from the closet.

“Heavy?” Engineer ceased his creeping and pulled the door open with haste, looking down at none other than the Heavy. The Russian was sitting on the floor, his arms and legs tied, attempting to wriggle out of his bonds.

Their eyes met, and Engineer lowered his gun. “Oh thank God,” he breathed. “I thought you’d be dead.”

But Heavy’s eyes shifted away from Engineer’s gaze, looking beyond him. “Behind you!” he shouted, and as Engineer attempted to pivot something swung into his throat and pulled him backwards against another man. With one hand still holding his gun, he reached up to pull the bat against his neck away, only to be pulled backwards and upwards by his captor.

“DROP YOUR GUN!” Johnny bellowed, pulling the bat tighter against Engineer’s trachea.

Engineer couldn’t respond. He gasped for air like a fish on land, and though his legs kicked back to strike at his attacker, he missed. As he felt himself becoming dizzy from the lack of oxygen, his fingers loosened their grip on the shotgun, sending it clattering to the floor. With almost inhuman speed Johnny picked up the gun and kicked Engineer in the rear, sending him face first into the closet. Engineer grasped at a coat to keep himself from falling on his face, and turned around to see Johnny standing over him, holding his gun. Heavy just looked between Engineer and Johnny, helpless to do anything and only barely containing his rage.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” Johnny said, shaking his head and tut-tutting. “Thought you’d be smarter than to fall into that trap. Keep your hands where I can see them, won’t you?”

Reluctantly, Engineer raised his hands, palms out to face his captor. “Why are you doing this?” Engineer demanded.

“I think you know why I’m doing this,” said Johnny. “Did you send that man to my house the other night?”

“Man?” Engineer tilted his head slightly. “What man?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Johnny said with a sneer. “The Frenchman. Did you send him?”

Realization dawned on Engineer’s face, and his hands lowered a fraction. “Spah visited you?”

“Yes, he ‘visited’ me, you cocksucker,” Johnny swung a foot into Engineer’s chest, pinning him against the back of the closet. Heavy winced. “You sent him, didn’t you? You had him try to blackmail me!”

Engineer wheezed as he recalled the conversation that he’d had with Spy, when the Frenchman had oh-so casually brought up the possibility of blackmail to help deal with Johnny. “I didn’t send him,” said Engineer, wincing in pain as Johnny pressed against his ribs. “He must a’ come of his own accord…”

“BULLSHIT!” Johnny hollered, and pulled his foot back to give Engineer a swift kick just under his ribs. Engineer gasped as he felt the wind get knocked out of him, and fell onto the floor, wheezing harder now. “How many of you are in on this? All of you? Think you can plot some kind of conspiracy against me?”

Unable to answer, Engineer just hugged himself as he tried to breathe, fighting back tears in his eyes. Heavy continued to stare at Johnny the way a caged bear might stare down an abusive trainer.

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” said Johnny, his voice betraying a sense of panic. “None of it matters. You bastards think you can go and ruin my life? Well, not without a fight, you won’t. If I’m gonna go down, the rest of you and Jane are coming down with me!”

“You’re crazy,” Engineer wheezed. “You… you monster.”

Johnny’s expression turned grim, his mouth and brow both dropping into parallel horizontal lines. “I’m not the monster here, Dell. It’s Jane. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this entire time, but you,” he started to laugh, though there was no joy in it, “but you… you just can’t seem to take a hint. That’s why I had to take such… extreme measures with you.”

“‘Extreme measures,’ my ass,” Engineer said through gritted teeth. “You’re sick…”

The false smile on Johnny’s face disappeared as quickly as it came, and he delivered another swift kick, this time to Engineer’s stomach. Engineer coughed and sputtered until a dribble of vomit erupted from his mouth.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t blow a new hole in your skull right now,” Johnny demanded.

Engineer lifted his head up, and gave a pained grin. “Murder charges?”

Johnny stared at Engineer blankly for a second before he let out a hoarse laugh, his entire face crinkling up like newspaper. Through his terror, Engineer laughed too, and coughed. Heavy just glanced between the two of them with concern. The laughter was cut short when Johnny lunged forward and pressed the barrel of the frontier justice against the underside of Engineer’s chin, causing Engineer’s throat to bob helplessly.

“You know, that is funny,” said Johnny. “I’m not even sure if I much care anymore about that.”

“Me neither,” said Engineer.


___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Pyro knew it’d been five minutes. He knew, because he’d counted the seconds. Three hundred and seven seconds, in fact, had gone by and there was no sign of Engineer. Pyro stood up and ran to the house, stopping in front of the phone. There were many sticky notes on the wall by the telephone, and Pyro read over them with his index finger hovering just under each of the numbers until he found Medic’s. He picked up the phone, and dialed the number.

As the phone rang, he remembered just how much he hated using telephones. Usually his speech would be muffled by whatever would be covering his mouth, and with the added distortion of the telephone, it made him even more difficult to understand. The only reason his teammates were so adept at deciphering his mumbling was due to a combination of experience and guessing from context. He wondered if Medic would be able to understand him…

The ringing stopped. “Hello?” asked a gruff voice. “Who is this?”

“Surrljurr?” Pyro asked.

“What?” Soldier asked. “Speak up. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”

“Urrsh Purro!” said Pyro. “Urr nurrd tur spurrk wurf Murrdick!”

“Pyro?” There was a pause. “You’re alive?”

“Urm wurf Erngie!” Pyro spoke slowly. “Ursh. Murrdick. Thurr?”

“You’re with Engineer and you’re asking for Medic?” Soldier repeated. “Well, Medic’s not here, he’s still at work. Is Heavy still over there still? He went over about twenty minutes ago…”

“Ursh urn ermergurnshee!” said Pyro, waving around his free arm. “Hurrvee urn Errngie urr en durrgurr!”

“Heavy and Engie are what?”

“EN DURRNGURR!”

“In Dodger?”

Pyro let out a frustrated yell, and then, in a moment of sheer desperation, pulled down the scarf away from his lips and yelled into the phone. “HEAVY AND ENGINEER ARE IN DANGER!”

On the other end of the phone, Soldier had frozen in place in shock; not just over the message, but the voice. Pyro’s voice. He’d never heard Pyro’s voice without it being muffled by a mask… it was androgynous, perhaps a man with a high pitched voice, maybe a woman with a low pitched voice… and the accent was faintly European. He shook his head. No, that didn’t matter now, he thought. Heavy had gone over to Soldier’s apartment to get him some clothes and now he and Engineer were in trouble, and Soldier had a pretty good idea who was causing it.

“Engineer told me to get Medic!” Pyro’s voice continued. “Please call Medic and tell him!”

Soldier closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m coming over.”

“But Engie said-”

“To hell with what Engie said!” declared Soldier. “This has gone too far! I have to settle this, once and for all, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

There was a pregnant pause from the other end of the line before Pyro finally broke it. “Okay,” Pyro said. “Just hurry.”

“I’m on my way.” Said Soldier, and hung up. Heavy’s giant Siberian dog lifted her head up from the floor to watch Soldier leave the kitchen and walk into the living room, where he stood in front of the teleporter. He reached into his back pocket, and pulled out Shovel Jr., holding him in his palm.

“I have to do this,” he explained to the plastic pink spade. “You know that right?”

At least leave a note for Medic, said Shovel Jr. He’ll be home soon.

“Fair enough,” said Soldier. He headed for Medic’s study, and swung open the door. From Medic’s desk he grabbed a blank piece of note paper and a pen, and wrote the following note in a barely literate scrawl:

Medic,

Went to rescue Engy and you’re idiot boyfreind. Need to finnaly settle score with my brother.

Don’t come after me.

- Soldier

P.S. I meen it.

Satisfied, Soldier left the study and went back to the kitchen past the anxious dog and to the refrigerator. Fortunately the fridge had a few magnets on it, almost all of them shaped like doves and pigeons, and Soldier picked one at random, to use to pin his note up. It was a dove in mid-flight carrying an olive branch. Soldier gave a disapproving snort and left for the teleporter. He stepped on top of it, and turned to face the dog, which was now standing and barking at the device.

The teleporter spun and whisked Soldier away in a flash of light, and Nikita was still howling.


___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


“Is anybody else coming?”

Engineer was tempted to no answer Johnny at all, seeing how the man was tying his wrists with a ripped-off shirtsleeve. He opted instead for lying.

“No.”

“You sure?” Johnny’s tone was condescending, as though he were scolding a naughty child. Engineer simply bowed his head.

“That’s what I thought,” said Johnny, patting Engineer on the back. “So who is it, hmm? Anybody I’ve met before?”

Again, Engineer said nothing. Heavy glanced at Engineer as he curled into a ball as though he were an armadillo. He then looked back up to Johnny with a scrutinizing glare.

“What are you looking at, cueball?” Johnny snapped at him.

“You remind me of somevone I knew vonce,” said Heavy. “Long time ago. Just remembering, is all.”

“Oh?” Johnny smirked, and leaned on Engineer’s back with his elbow. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” said Heavy. “You remind me of young boy I grew up vit, in same village as my family. I hated this boy. He vas cruel and vicious, older den I vas… he vould beat me up and call me fat.”

Johnny snickered. “He called it like he saw it.”

Heavy’s brow furrowed. “He came into our chicken coop vone night. I found him snapping necks of our hens. I chase him avay before he killed them all. Vhen I confront him about it later, he said he did it for no other reason than he vanted to kill something dat could not fight back. He says this, and his eyes are cold. He beat me again, and ran off.”

Heavy got a far away look in his eye, and continued. “A few years later, his family vas captured and sent to gulag, but he vas not. He watch dem be taken away, smiling. Vhen my family vas sent to gulag, I knew he vas vone dat reported us. And years after that, I hear he is agent for KGB, spying on citizens and making arrests and murdering people. He vas ruthless and evil, and he liked to use and hurt people. And you… you remind me of him.”

When the story finished, Johnny just scoffed, and shook his head. “I know what you’re trying to do,” said Johnny. “Same thing as Dell here. Call me a monster by comparing me to a KGB agent to try and… I don’t know, what? Make me feel guilty? Is that it?”

“I do not tink man like you is able to feel guilt,” said Heavy. “If you had, perhaps you vould not treat your brother the vay dat you do.”

“Hey,” Johnny stood up and kicked Engineer aside, and looked down at Heavy. “I treat him the only way he responds to. I treat him a hell of a lot better than he even deserves.”

“I know vhat you did to him.”

At first, Johnny’s expression was one of confusion, until the solemnity of Heavy’s delivery of those words began to sink in. He reeled back, as though distancing himself from an angry snake, and Heavy could see a flicker of fear in his eyes.

Engineer twisted his body into being half-upright, and looked between the two, not entirely sure what was happening. Johnny finally seemed afraid, and Heavy’s expression was grim as death. “What… what did he-?”

“He’s lying,” said Johnny. “He’s lying to make me look bad.”

“And vhy vould he lie about someting like dat?” asked Heavy. “Does not make much sense to me, to lie about dat. Especially for Soldier.”

“His name’s not Soldier!” Johnny hollered. “It’s Jane! He’s not a soldier, he’s never been!”

“Vhy vould he lie about someting like dat?” Heavy repeated, louder this time. “He is not a liar. He may be crazy, he is insecure, yes, but not a liar. It is you who is the liar!”

“He lies all the goddamned time!” Johnny shouted, gesturing frantically. “He says he’s a soldier! He says he fought the Nazis in Germany!”

“He believes these tings,” said Heavy. “He is bad at lying. And I am not a stupid man. He vanted to lie to pretend vhat you did never happened.”

“What…” Engineer looked between them, as though watching a verbal tennis match. “I don’t understand what you’re talkin’ about…”

“Bullshit!” shouted Johnny. “Why shouldn’t he want to spread lies about me? Why shouldn’t he want to make me look bad?”

“Because he vas ashamed,” said Heavy. “Is normal ting, to be ashamed of such a ting. He vas ashamed of telling anyone, so he said nothing. And you insist he is liar, because he…” Heavy’s eyes drifted upwards as he searched for the right word, “he slipped.”

“SHUT UP!” Johnny swung his leg up and out and brought it to collided with Heavy’s head. Heavy teetered slightly, and righted himself, sitting upright and shaking his head, focusing his eyes on an increasingly hysteric Johnny. “We were kids, all right? I was a kid… kids… they do stupid things! I did a lot of stupid things!”

Heavy said nothing. He just looked at Johnny, with that same dour expression, his eyes boring through him like hot steel though wood.

“Heavy…” Engineer spoke up, looking at his former teammate with obvious worry. “What is he talkin’ about?”

“Is not my place to tell you, Engineer,” said Heavy, his diction flat, deliberate and cold. “Dat vould be Soldier’s.”

Engineer looked back to Johnny, who was shaking all over, his face scarlet and his eyes full of murderous fire. As Johnny’s hands curled into talons, and the tendons in his neck stood out like steel cables, Engineer looked to where Johnny had placed his gun; the kitchen counter. More than anything Engineer wanted to crawl over to the kitchen to get it, but Johnny stood between him and it. He squirmed, trying to loosen his bonds.

“I’ll kill you,” said Johnny, looming over Heavy, lifting his hands to strangle him.

“Untie me, den,” said Heavy. “Or are you too much of a coward to settle this like real man?”

Johnny turned away from heavy, whipping an arm to the kitchen counter and grabbing a hold of Engineer’s gun. As he turned back to Heavy, gun in hand and barrel aimed for Heavy’s head, he hesitated. Engineer hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath until the phone started ringing.

All eyes turned to the telephone, regarding it as though it were a time bomb. Johnny, being the only one capable of reaching it, tucked the gun under his arm and approached the phone with the air of a man on a leisurely Sunday stroll. He picked the ringing phone up from its cradle, and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Oh hey, Soldier, that you?” Johnny didn’t recognize the voice on the other end, this one was new. Some man speaking a New England accent… Boston? “You sound like ya got a cold or somethin’.”

“Nobody by that name lives here,” said Johnny. “And Jane isn’t in right now.”

“Jane? Oh, right! His name’s Jane, I remember now!” said the voice. “Can you take a message for him, then? Man, I’m just havin’ so much trouble tellin’ anybody, I mean I called Engie’s hours an’ he just hung up on me for some reason, it’s weird. Anyway, just tell ‘im Scout called, an’ that my wife jus-”

“Do yourself a favor and don’t call here again,” said Johnny.

“Wait, what? Hold on! What’s goin’ on, lemme fin-” but Scout was cut off as Johnny hung up the phone, and turned back to his two prisoners.

“You know anybody called Scout?” he asked.

“We know him,” said Engineer. “He’s got no part in this. You leave him be.”

“I don’t recall you being in any position to tell me what to do, Tex,” said Johnny, approaching Engineer. “He sounded excited. Mentioned his wife. Good news?”

Heavy and Engineer looked to each other, and said nothing. They had a fairly good idea why Scout would be calling with news about his wife, and between them, though they were silent, they knew they could not say, lest Johnny become encouraged.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Johnny said, smirking. “I don’t need you to tell me. You’ve got more of those teleporting doohickeys, right?” he gestured to the teleporter in question. “From the sounds of it, you’ve got your own little network going. You’ve got one to the rest of your buddies? To this Scout maybe? To the Frenchman? Maybe I should pay them a visit too… wouldn’t want anyone else to get any ideas…”

“Don’t you dare, you slimy sonuvabitch!” Engineer barked, lunging towards Johnny, though he was still bound.

“And what, exactly, are you going to do about it,” Johnny asked. “Get more of your friends? Sure, send ‘em in. I’ll be ready…”

Just as he said this, in the corner of the living room, the teleporter spun to life and emitted a halo of orange and white light. Johnny’s posture went slack, and the room became blindingly bright. Engineer had screwed his eyes shut, and when he opened them tentatively and his eyes adjusted, he saw Soldier stepping off the teleporter with a kitchen knife in his hand; Engineer recognized it as one from his own home.

“Soldier!” said Heavy. “Vhat are you doing here?”

“Heard my brother was giving you trouble,” he said plainly. “Thought I’d pay a visit.”

“Well, well, well,” Johnny said, shaking his head. “It’s about time you showed up. You come to your senses yet, or am I gonna have to knock some into you?”

“Let them go, Johnny,” said Soldier. His voice was quiet, and very unlike Soldier. “You have no business with them.”

“Oh, I think I do,” said Johnny, taking a few strides closer to Soldier. “They interfered in family business. And that’s my business. You’re the one that dragged them into this, not me.”

“I don’t think you heard me,” said Soldier, walking closer to Johnny. “Let them go or I’ll have to kill you.”

“Oh, will you?” Johnny said with a laugh. “That worked out so wonderfully last time, didn’t it? I didn’t know you were so looking forward to going back for another stint in the hospital.”

“Only one that’s going to any hospital is you, Johnny,” said Soldier. “You’ve threatened my friends. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let you get away with that.”

Johnny laughed. “I still can’t believe you actually managed to make friends.”

“Kick his ass, Soldier!” Engineer shouted, almost despite himself. For his outburst, he received yet another kick from Johnny.

Soldier glowered, and tossed aside his knife. “Let’s do this like men.”

“Fair enough,” said Johnny, setting down Engineer’s gun and then cracking his neck. “But I doubt you’re capable of doing anything like a man… Jane.”

The two charged at each other like rams, Johnny swinging a punch only for Soldier to catch it in his hand. Johnny pushed his fist into Soldier’s palm, and Soldier resisted, the two of them staring each other down until Soldier shoved back, sending Johnny stumbling back. Soldier took this opportunity to pounce upon Johnny, letting out a hoarse scream. Johnny was prepared for him, however, and let Soldier charge into a punch in the stomach. Soldier doubled over, and received another blow as Johnny delivered an uppercut into his chin, and Soldier stumbled back a few steps.

“You’re wasting your time, Jane,” said Johnny, swinging his arms. “We’ve done this song and dance before, you know how it ends!”

“You are arrogant,” said Heavy. “I vould have broken you like twig, had you fought me fair.”

Johnny was about to make a retort to this when Soldier seized the opportunity to lunge at Johnny with a punch to the jaw, sending Johnny twirling from the force of the blow. Soldier tackled him against the kitchen counter, pinning him against it and whaling on him, his fists pounding into Johnny’s face with increasing force.

Seeing as how the two brothers were otherwise occupied, Engineer scooted across the floor, approaching the knife that Soldier had tossed away. Once close, he turned around, and with his fingers he felt around for the handle. He got a grip on it, and carefully positioned it so the blade leaned against the cloth. Engineer glanced at Heavy as he sawed through the cloth, though Heavy’s attention was more focused on the brawl in front of him.

Soldier was now slamming the back of Johnny’s head against the counter as Johnny squeezed at his brother’s throat. Soldier was gasping, his eyes bulging from their sockets as he was losing air, and in a moment of weakness was overtaken by his brother, who rolled to be on top of him, now pinning Soldier back against the counter. Soldier clawed up at his face, dragging the skin around Johnny’s eyes and cheeks uselessly.

“You think you can run away from me?” Johnny growled, his voice only o low only Soldier could hear. “You think you know better than me? Huh?” In one quick motion he removed one hand from Soldier’s throat and pinned a hand on the inside of his brother’s thigh. “You think I treated you badly before, you don’t even know what I’m capable of.” He moved his hand to clamp on Soldier’s testicles in a vice grip, and Soldier let out a wheeze and a whine so high-pitched it sounded like a whistle.

Engineer pulled his hands apart and brought them in front of him, still holding the knife. Thank God, he thought, that Soldier thought to bring it. He crawled on the floor, low to the ground, and slid up beside Heavy.

“Heavy!” he whispered.

Heavy looked down, and saw Engineer free with a knife in his hand. His eyebrows arched in surprise, but then he broke out into a grin, and presented his back to Engineer.

Without even a sliver of hesitation Engineer grabbed at the rope binding Heavy and dug a finger underneath it to pull it away from him, slipping the blade of his knife under the rope, and sawing through the fibers. With a snap, the rope gave way and slackened, and Heavy spread his arms and let the rope fall. He then grabbed at the ropes binding Heavy’s legs, and cut through them.

Johnny let go of Soldier, stepping backwards to let Soldier slide down onto the floor. As Soldier doubled over, his eyes watering and his vision going spotty and his face still flushed red, his brother hovered over him, his face so close that their noses almost touched, and Soldier felt as though he felt a spark between them pass through the negative space. Soldier looked up, and met his brother’s eyes. Johnny held Soldier’s chin in his hands, and squeezed at his cheeks. “So tell me,” he asked, as their eyes locked, “is this little last stand of yours even worth it?”

“Da.”

Before Johnny could even turn around, something hit him in the head like a hammer on a pendulum, sending his body flying down the hall. He lay on the ground, dazed, and managed to twist his head in the direction of the living room. There was Jane, still sitting against the counter, and Dell, who was sitting on the floor grinning and holding a length of rope and a knife in his hand. And there was the Russian, that massive Russian, now free and approaching Johnny with a grin like a wolf.

Suddenly he remembered how to use his legs and scrambled backwards away from his advancing attacker. Heavy was taking his time, knowing that he had his prey cornered. As Johnny backed against the wall and flattened himself against it, Heavy reached out and grabbed Johnny by the ankle, and with a clean jerk, yanked him off the floor and up into the air.

“Not so big now, are you?” Heavy asked, looking down at Johnny.

“Oh God, put me down!” Johnny shrieked, flailing around uselessly in Heavy’s iron grip.

“Vit pleasure,” said Heavy, and flung Johnny down the other end of the hall, hurling him into the closet door. Engineer gave a shout as he fled out of the way of the human missile as Johnny’s body slammed into the door, and he bounced off and fell to the floor on his face. As Heavy stalked towards Johnny like a cat ready to toy with a mouse it had just caught, Engineer rushed to Soldier’s side. He put a hand to Soldier’s bleeding face to lift his head, so that he could look Soldier in the eyes.

“Jane?” he asked, giving Soldier’s cheek a light slap in order to make him come to. “Sir?”

Soldier groaned in response.

Engineer looked back to Heavy, who now had Johnny pinned against the door, his stomach against the wall. Heavy held him in place with one massive arm against Johnny’s shoulder blades, and his other hand was preoccupied twisting Johnny’s arm.

“Let me go, you fat bastard!” Johnny snarled, kicking back at Heavy and only hitting air. “You said you wanted to fight fair!”

“Too late for dat,” said Heavy, and he broke Johnny’s arm.

Johnny let out an anguished bellow as the bone let out a sickening crack, his face turning red, causing his head to look more like a ripe boil with facial features. Heavy let go of Johnny and backed away, watching the man spin around and look at his shattered limb, hanging limply at his side. As he screamed in pain, Engineer stood up and walked over beside Heavy and nudged him aside. “That’s enough, big guy,” he said, and patted Heavy on the arm a Heavy gave him an odd look.

“Finally,” said Johnny with a gasp. “I was thinking you’d never have him let up.”

“Nope,” said Engineer, and he socked Johnny in the jaw.

Johnny staggered backwards as blood sprayed from his lip. He stumbled backwards into the wall, and cringed as Engineer stepped closer.

“Threaten to dig up my wife, you bastard?” Engineer said breathlessly. “Threaten my daughter, my home, my life?” He threw another punch, this time into Johnny’s stomach. “Threaten my friends? You sonuvabitch, you rotten, slimy sonuvabitch!” Engineer socked him in the face again, and again, sprays of blood and sweat erupting from Johnny’s face at each blow.

Heavy watched this one-sided bout for about a minute until he heard a throaty cough coming from Soldier’s direction. He turned, and saw Soldier attempting to lift himself up. Heavy approached Soldier, offering him a hand. Soldier wiped away blood from his mouth and then clasped Heavy’s hand, and Heavy pulled him to his feet.

“How are you feeling?” Heavy asked.

“Like shit,” Soldier said, flecks of blood and spittle coming from his mouth. He looked at Engineer, who was now kicking Johnny in the ribs as Johnny lay on the floor, curling up and crying out in pain. “Jesus.”

“You tink ve should stop him?” Heavy asked.

“No,” said Soldier. “I think I wanna watch this.”

They both watched as Engineer kept kicking at Johnny. Engineer’s movements were more frantic now, more desperate, taking out all the anger and frustration on this other man’s body as he could bear to let out. Each kick was not just retaliation against this man, this man who had terrorized Engineer and belittled him and threatened him… no, each blow was now striking out at everything in his life that had ever gone wrong.

The accident at the university that cost him his job, that was a blow to the chest. The cancer that ate his wife’s brain, that was a kick in the throat. Her death was a kick to Johnny’s balls. Every indignity and injustice he’d ever suffered was now being unleashed upon Soldier’s brother, as though he were some sort of voodoo doll to afflict pain upon every goddamned thing in his life that was unfair and unjust and cruel. It was only after Engineer had stomped Johnny in the jaw and broke it with an audible crack that Heavy grabbed Engineer by the shoulders.

“He is not getting back up,” said Heavy.

“He’s still alive,” said Engineer. “Bastard’s still alive… where the hell is my gun?”

“Engineer…”

“I said, ‘WHERE’S MY GUN?’” Engineer hollered, smacking away Heavy’s hands. He soon found it, set down on the floor, and with pure hatred setting his eyes aglow he reached for it and whirled back to face Johnny, shoving the barrel in his face.

Johnny moaned, unable to speak, letting out a pathetic wail that might have been a plea for mercy.

“Shut up!” Engineer shouted at him. “You ain’t got no right to whine at me. You ain’t got no right to live!”

A hand grabbed at the gun barrel and lifted it away from Johnny’s face. Confused, Engineer turned his head to see Soldier looking at him, his face bleeding and bruised and purple. It looked like overly tenderized beef.

“That’s enough, Engie,” said Soldier. “You kill him now… he won’t be able to taste defeat.”

The fire from Engineer’s eyes flickered, and then died away, leaving Engineer like smoke on the wind. Both his grip and his posture slackened, and he let Soldier slide the gun from his grip. On the floor, Johnny could be heard crying, hot tears and blood dribbling from his eyes and mouth respectively, and soaking the carpet. Soldier looked down at him curiously through blackened, puffy eyes.

“You know, Johnny,” he said, his voice calm, “this is the first time I’ve ever seen you cry.”

Johnny lifted his head just enough to spit out a tooth at Soldier.

“I’m sorry,” said Engineer, bringing a hand to his face, which was now drenched in a cold sweat. “I… I’m not sure what came over me.”

“Is understandable,” said Heavy. “Have never seen you quite dis angry before. Not even on battlefield…”

“I can’t say I much like bein’ angry,” said Engineer, wiping the back of his neck. “I just can’t abide a bully, really. That’s all.”

Heavy laughed. “You are done, den?”

“Not quite,” said Engineer. He looked back down at Johnny, and stooped down to come face to face with him. He lifted Johnny’s chin in his hand, and looked deep into his eyes.

“Listen,” said Engineer, “you’re not gonna bother Jane anymore. There’s more of us out there, wantin’ to protect him, and most of them are a helluva lot meaner than I am. I am not joking when I say that you have only gotten a taste of the hell we could rain down upon you. I don’t know what you did to Soldier to make him so afraid of you, but I guarantee that whatever it was, it won’t amount to what we’re capable of as a team. ‘Cause in th’ end, it’s not just you against Soldier… it’s th’ nine of us against you. You understand?”

Johnny gave a weak nod.

“So glad we’ve reached an understanding then,” said Engineer, standing up. He turned to Soldier. “Grab yer stuff. You’re not comin’ back here ever again, so get as much as you can, or need. You think you can manage?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” said Soldier, still clearly a bit dazed. He headed off to his bedroom, leaving Engineer and Heavy standing behind, keeping watch over Johnny.

Heavy looked down at the bloodied heap of a man on the floor, and motioned for Engineer to come closer. Engineer sidled up beside Heavy, looking up at the colossus of a man.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“You sure is good idea to leave him alive?” Heavy asked, his voice at a whisper.

Engineer looked back at Johnny. His brow furrowed, considering the possibility of Johnny recovering and coming back for revenge. He sighed. “I think he got the message,” he said, looking up at Heavy. “And if he gets any bright ideas… we’ll be ready for him.”

“Sounds good,” said Heavy. “He got lucky, I tink. If Medic had come here instead of Soldier, he vould be dead by now and his guts would be strung around like it vas Christmas.”

Engineer gave a chuckle at the thought. He heard a door close, and saw Soldier carrying a suitcase and a pillow.

“Ready to go?” asked Engineer.

“You go on ahead,” he said. “I’ll meet you there. I’d like to have a word with Johnny in private.”

Heavy and Engineer exchanged cautious glances, and looked back to Soldier. “All right,” said Engineer.

“Just… don’t take too long, all right.”

“I won’t,” said Soldier. “Go on.”

Heavy was the first to step onto the teleporter, turning to get one last look at the apartment before the teleporter flashed and took him away. Engineer lingered a moment, giving Johnny one last, disdainful look.

“You best hope this is th’ last time we see each other,” he said to him, and he walked onto the teleporter. It spun and flashed, and he was gone.

Soldier was now alone with his brother. He sat down on the floor, just looking at Johnny in disbelief. To think that the man he’d feared his entire life was now on the floor, helpless, rendered immobile. It was such a novel feeling, being the one to look down on his hurt sibling.

“‘Ane…” Johnny gurgled, reaching out an arm to his brother. “‘Elp ee…”

“I wanna say something first,” said Soldier, leaning his palms on the knees of his crossed legs. “Hear me out for once in your goddamned life, would you?”

“‘Urts…” Johnny choked out.

“Yeah, I know it does,” he said. “But you can’t say you didn’t deserve this. I only wish it’d been me kicking you in your stupid face on the ground.”

Johnny groaned again.

“But you know… it’s all right,” Soldier went on. “They’re my family now. Done right by me a hell of a lot better than you ever did, after all that you did to me.”

“S-” Just making the syllable caused Johnny pain, and blood sprayed from his mouth. “Sah-rrhee…”

“No, you’re not,” said Soldier. “You’ve never been sorry. Not once in your goddamned life have you ever been sorry about anything. I know you better than that. But that’s all right, because I’m not gonna forgive you anyway. Ever.” He stood up, tucked his pillow under his arm, lifted his suitcase, and approached the phone. He took it off the cradle and pulled at it reaching towards Johnny with it. “You’re gonna need this to call an ambulance,” he said. “Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you.”

With hurt in his eyes, Johnny lifted his good hand and snatched the telephone away from Soldier. He watched as Soldier walked to the teleporter, and gave him one last glance.

“Good bye, Johnny,” said Soldier. “This is for the best.” With that, he stepped onto the teleporter, and vanished.

A few seconds later, Soldier blinked in the bright Texas sunlight, and stumbled off the teleporter. He barely had time to process the sudden change in surroundings when Pyro pounced on him with a tight embrace.

“Yurr murrd et!” said Pyro with glee.

“Aye, there ‘e is!” said Demoman. Soldier looked to see that indeed, Demoman and Sniper were both present, standing on the porch with Heavy, Engineer, and a woman that Soldier didn’t recognize. Walking towards Soldier was Medic, who was looking furious and holding a familiar piece of paper.

“Idiot!” Medic cried, gesticulating wildly. “I forbade you to go back to your apartment! And did you listen to me? Nein! Instead I get zis poorly spelled note on my refrigerator and I get scared to my wit’s end! I should have known better to send Heavy on zat errand vhile I wasn’t zhere!”

“Nice to see you too Doc,” said Soldier, still being squeezed by Pyro. “You think you can patch me up now?”

“Ach!” Medic threw his hands up in the air, and turned to the others. “Can you believe zis man?”

“I can,” said Engineer, stepping down from the porch. “Now, I’d suggest y’all move outta th’ way, I’m gonna blow that thing an’ I don’t want you getting’ hit by shrapnel.”

Soldier, Pyro and Medic quickly stepped out of the way, and Engineer approached the teleporter. He pressed a few buttons on its casing, then jogged out of the way as it gave a string of rapid beeps. It then exploded in a puff of smoke, clanging and sending metal parts flying a short distance around Engineer’s front yard.

“Ye know,” said Demoman, “yer building destructions were never explosive enough fer me, Engie.”

“That’s probably fer th’ best,” said Engineer.

“What’re you two even doing here, anyway?” asked Soldier, gesturing to Sniper and Demoman. “And who’s this lady?”

“We were invited fer breakfast, an’ that’s Medic’s ex-wife an’ Demo’s girlfriend,” answered Sniper, pointing a thumb to Ilse.

“So, you ah Soldier,” said Ilse, looking him up and down. “You look like I expected you to.”

Soldier said nothing, but gave Ilse an odd look.

“So…” said Engineer, clapping his hands and rubbing them together, “seems like we got a lot t’ catch up on an’ talk about. Who wants breakfast?”

I'm gonna cry.

CAT MARRY ME.

Lying down reading this at 3 in the morning.
Getting chills and shivering like a baby.
Squee-ing like a little girl 'round the end.

WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH ALL THESE FEELS NOW.

Yep.

Gonna cry.

My god, I want to clap and cheer and collapse in relief. And having read something this victorious and triumphant, I feel better prepared to tackle the working week.

I think it's Soldier's poor spelling which delighted me most - it's such a lovely character detail, the sort of attention to which always marks your work as a cut above the rest.

When Pyro brought down his scarf to scream at Soldier, I was reminded of that part in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back where Silent Bob grabs Jay and yells in his face because he couldn't figure out what he was signing about.

Oh my good god thank you, so many times thank you Cat Bountry. Even multiple keyboard smashes could not quell nor contain my.. erm.. "feels" for this wonderful piece of fanfiction.

After much procrastination- which I am somewhat angered at myself for doing now, I picked this off of my list of books and stories to read and I've found myself yet again extremely thankful for finding a link to "Respawn of the Dead" on a tropes website (forgot the name of it). I cannot find the way to express how absolutely wonderful this piece is other than the fact it stirred quite a bit of emotion in me, something that many of the last pieces of literature I've read have failed to do. I even spent from... oh somewhere around four or five A.M. to now (10:45 A.M. with distractions and dozing off inbetween) starting and catching up to this latest update. I'm terribly excited for the next chapter and hope to see it soon, though it'd probably be normal for such a lovely piece/novella/friggin-amazing-story-that-should-be-a-book to take a while to properly write. Again, thank you so much. Not just for having written this but for giving us the chance to read it. If you were curious as to why I'm so thankful for this (and in love with it), I'll just mention that an anon on the last thread that was about #117 (or so?) who had a similarly long comment. (S)he said something along the lines of this being so realistic and while not their headcannon of the characters this piece is written so well that they can accept the characters cast under this new light. Pretty much their whole comment is kinda the same way I felt. Yet again, thank you thank you thank you thank you! I'm excited for the next update... and sorry for the length of this comment... hehe.

He stood up, tucked his pillow under his arm, lifted his suitcase, and approached the phone. He took it off the cradle and pulled at it reaching towards Johnny with it. “You’re gonna need this to call an ambulance,” he said. “Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you.”

I could be wrong or forgetting something, but in the '70's they still had rotary dial telephones, didn't they? So Soldier just gave Johnny the receiver; he'll still have to crawl to the rest of the phone to dial an ambulance.

Maybe I'm a sap, but I love when things come to a satisfying conclusion. Bravo!

Also having feels for this, and I'm glad that even with Engineer's tantrum, they opted not to kill Johnny.

Yay! Good update :) We ever gonna find out what those pictures were that Spy had?

Ahh, satisfaction guaranteed. Thanks, Cat.

29
Oops.

I'll fix that later.

32
Maybe. I'll leave that to your imaginations for now.

I really like the part where he said they were a team. Heck, it's TEAM Fortress 2. I think you've got down the essence of the relationship. Though each member goes his separate way, the team still holds together.

29
Did some research.

The first touch tone phone was released in 1966, a good ten years before this story takes place, though rotary phones were still in the majority of households up until the late seventies.

The kind of wall-mounted phone I wrote is incorrect though. I'll fix that at least.

Another small typo: ody, I mean I called Engie’s hours an’ he just hung up on me for some

I think you mean house.

I... woah, is it over? I can barely believe it's come to this epic conclusion. To be honest, I wasn't expecting it to end yet. I'm rather glad you didn't kill Johnny, though... he might be the world's biggest jerk, but he still... you know, has a family and stuff. Yeah...
Are there any plans for one-shots taking place after this? I'd love to read more about Sniper finding his ex-wife and son, or maybe Scout's newest addition to the family.
But yeah... I think I'm going to sit in a corner now and ponder the meaning of life or something. Thanks, Cat. You rule.

38
It's not over. Just the end of this arc.

There will be more after this, and I plan on going all the way up until the present day with this. There will be a new arc starting soon, probably the chapter after next.

Just gonna wind down a bit more.

How did I not notice this was up? Oh my Goodness, Cat Bountry, you have slain me. Just slain me. I bow to your awesome writing skills.

39 Oh thank goodness it's not over. I was so worried, Cat. You are one my favourite writers ever.

39 Holy fuck, present day. I love to see how characters change over time (sorta my kink) and we have how they were in the war, now, and some day the present? I like this. You can stay, CB.

Present day?
From the 1960's to 2012 present day?
wat.

I'm crying this is so good.

43
THERE WILL BE SOME FAST FORWARDING BUT YES.

Oh, Cat. So many feels.
The protagonists are successful without having to kill a bitch,
Pyro speaks, Soldier confronts his problems, Heavy gets to wreck shit, Engie gets his feels out, and there are still six other motherfuckers ready to wreck Johnny's shit again if he gets in anyone's grill; You really know how to hit 'em in the feels, Cat.

I have so many feels right now, I don't know what to do with them.
I'm struggling to describe what seeing that douchebag son of a bitch finally getting his just desserts feels like, right here and now, and the only metaphor I can come up with is gross and kind of weird, but it makes sense.
It's like taking a huge dump after a week of constipation.
It's this perfect release and relief that feels so fantastically good you could just break down in tears, and it feels so amazing because you've endured the hardship that built up to that moment.

Cat, I love you. Never change.

47 Also, Johnny is a load of crap who needed to be broken down.
Just trying to help with this metaphor thing.

Okay, now that I've picked myself up off the floor and have had a chance to read it through a few times I can leave a proper comment.

Ugh, so satisfying. You've written Engineer as having a bit of a temper (or at least some serious unresolved anger about tragedies in his life) and seeing him utilize it against Johnny like that got me pretty emotional. I loved that it was Soldier, the one who had suffered most at his brother's hand, who was the one to stop Engineer from blowing Johnny's brains out—I certainly didn’t expect him to be the one to defuse the situation. All of Soldier's interactions here were great (the moment with the peace dove magnet was especially fantastic), and I probably shouldn't be getting such warm fuzzies over Shovel Jr. Soldier's final goodbye to his brother was pitch-perfect. That little snippet of Heavy's past was good to see, too. Not just because Heavy's past is always interesting to see in fanfic, but because it made his fight personal as well. And I have to agree with what was said about leaving Johnny alive; he's been defanged and Soldier is safe and away so there's no need to take his life, and killing him would not have left this arc on such a victorious note.

As for Spy's evidence, wasn't there a little hint a few chapters back that Engineer didn't see the photo Johnny...soiled...in the wastebasket where he put it? I wonder if Spy will make good on his threat to let the mystery cat out of the bag.

I’m so excited to see what’s to come: Medic and Ilse and Demoman in the same room, Scout’s good news (hopefully Bunny got her wish!), Pyro and Soldier's adoption into the Conagher family, and of course the next big arc. Someone else mentioned how this story has had more of an emotional impact on them than some published literature, and I’m in the same boat. I find myself reading and re-reading your stories and finding new things to love each time I do. You’re a truly gifted writer, Cat, thank you so much.

(Caption: "success. ghlyzar". Pretty much sums up my feelings about this arc.)

I sure hope they managed to finally reach Johnny/otherwise traumatize him into leaving them alone. I can't imagine how messy it would be if he tried to make this into a legal matter. (I think I've seen too many cop dramas. Ick, ick, ick.)

Engie, you've got some issues to work out, man...

By the way, I'm sorry I haven't been able to proofread the last few chapters. You've got my email at this point, but would you want me to give you Skype or Steam info as well? I don't always check my email in a timely manner, but you can contact me better on either of those if you ever need a beta reader again.

I can't be the only one that sees (and really hopes for) some helmet party on the horizon, right?

>>50

You know my email.

Just send your info there.

I've recently gotten into TF2 and have -now- read everything you have written.

MY. GOD. THE. FEELS.

You are a master of the written word. Your fiction is so amazingly wonderful that...I almost feel empty after reading it. Like, I feel like I've finished a series and want to know what everyone's up to now. As far as I'm concerned, your portrayal of everyone and the universe of TF2 is the only way it can exist. It's all kinds of amazing and I don't want it to stop. T_T

First time posting ever, and just wanted to let you know how amazingly, incredibly, spectacularly awesome you are. You make me want to get back into writing fics. I love ya, Cat. You and your sexy fic skills.

Part 15 is here! This is a bit shorter but this should wrap up the Johnny arc. Expect some slice of life stuff next update as well as Sniper having some time in the spotlight, and then maybe a new arc after that?

Tee hee.

Enjoy.


____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


The kitchen was quiet as everyone ate their breakfast with the exceptions of Medic and Soldier; Pyro was eating his breakfast in the solitude of the attic. Medic had set to work sewing up the gash in Soldier’s forehead, while Soldier winced and twitched under his touch.

“I don’t know wot it says about me that I can watch this an’ not even be put off me breakfast at all,” Sniper mused idly, shoveling in a forkful of scrambled eggs. “Carn’t be anyfin’ good.”

“Oh, hush,” Medic snapped, not even turning to look at Sniper. “Mind your own business.”

“You are kinda stitchin’ Soldier up right here in th’ kitchen with th’ rest of us,” said Engineer.

“Only because I plan on finishing soon,” said Medic. “Vhat happened in zhere, anyvay?”

“Soldier’s brother was there waitin’ fer us,” said Engineer. “But I’m sure you could gather that from our injuries.”

“You are also injuried?” Medic turned to look back at the kitchen table, and his eyes met with Heavy’s. “Heavy, are you feeling all right?”

“Took blow to head,” said Heavy. “Am fine.”

“You’re ‘fine?’” Medic echoed in disbelief. “I highly doubt zat! You probably got a concussion.”

“With as thick a skull as ‘is?” Demoman asked with a laugh. “I dinnae think so, Doc.”

“Yes,” said Heavy, tapping at his temple with his forefinger. “Have very thick skull.”

“Zat vas an insult, Heavy,” said Medic.

“Oh.” Heavy glared at Demoman.

“Jes’ teasin’ ye,” said Demoman. “Dinnea take it personally, c’mon now.” He gave Heavy a playful push.

“Regardless,” said Medic, snipping off the length of wire used to close Soldier’s forehead, “I zink it vould be wise if you had a dose of ze medigun vapors, just in case.”

“You still have th’ Medigun?” Engineer asked, perking up in concern.

“You’re not ze only vone hoarding ze technology you developed for your own personal use,” said Medic with a smirk.

“So, why aren’t you using your Medigun on me right now then?” Soldier snapped.

“Because I enjoy causing you pain,” Medic hissed, and yanked on Soldier’s sutures. Soldier gave a short cry in pain, eliciting a wicked grin from the doctor. “But really, I don’t have near-unlimited quantities of ze vapors as I used to. I have to conserve vhat I have left.”

“How much d’you got left?” Sniper asked, craning his neck in curiosity.

“Hopefully enough to last me ze rest of my lifetime,” said Medic, reaching inside his vest pocket. He pulled out what looked like an antique metal snuff box. He flipped it open and held it under Soldier’s nose. “Inhale, bitte.”

Soldier gave Medic the hairy eyeball, but relented and obeyed, taking a deep whiff from the metal box. The red, odorless fumes of the Medigun wafted up to his face, and already he could feel the swelling in his face subside.

“You won’t be feeling ze full effects, I’m afraid, but zat should help you recover faster,” said Medic. “You took quite ze beating zhere.”

“You should see my brother,” Soldier said with a snicker.

Medic gave a resigned sigh, and walked over to Heavy with the snuff box in his fingers, and held it under Heavy’s nose. Heavy inhaled deeply, and the bruise on the side of his head faded away to its usual pigmentation. Medic placed a hand on Heavy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Feeling better?”

“Da,” said Heavy nodding. “Tank you, Doktor.”

“You’re velcome, kuschelbär,” said Medic, giving Heavy a kiss where the bruise on his head had been.

“You know,” said Ilse, taking a sip of coffee, “it’s so unusual to see you so affectionate, Schatzi.”

“You und I bozh know vhy zhat vas, Liebling,” Medic shot back, presenting the box to Engineer, who raised a hand to politely refuse.

“’Ey now, luv,” said Demoman, giving his wife’s hand a gentle squeeze, “there’s no need fer any o’ this ole’ bickerin’. Ye haven’t been t’gether fer years, let sleepin’ dogs lie, eh?”

“I’m sorry, dear,” said Ilse, not even looking at Demoman as she said this, her eyes locked on her ex-husband. “I suppose zat vas petty of me. After all, it’s not like ve had been in a relationship for over twenty years…”

“Twenty years of misery und denial und bitterness,” said Medic. “Don’t act like ze only reason ve married vasn’t protection for ze bozh of us. You’re ze vone zat got ideas zat it might become somezing more zhan simply being pragmatic.”

“If I recall correctly, mein Täubchen, zat vas you zat zhought you might ‘cure’ yourself of your ‘obtrusive prurience for ozzah men,’ as you so eloquently put it.” Ilse smirked. “I zhought I might humor you. Silly me, I vas foolish enough to zhink it might vork.”

Medic’s face turned red as the others in the kitchen were looking between him and his ex-wife. He didn’t say anything, and the hand on Heavy’s shoulder was now grabbing a fistful of Heavy’s shirt.

“I dinnae see ‘ow this all matters now, luv,” said Demoman with a nervous laugh. “Th’ both a’ ye are much happier now, right? So wot’s th’ point a’ dredgin’ all this unpleasant business up then, aye?”

“She started it,” said Medic, gesturing towards Ilse.

“I vas only making an observation, Hasi,” she said, still looking smug. “You’re ze vone who got defensive.”

“You und I bozh know zat vas not just an observation, Schneckchen,” Medic said, squinting at her.

“Vell, I’m terribly sorry zat I hurt your precious feelings zen,” she said. “You won’t hear anymore out of me about it… mein Geierchen.”

Medic gave Ilse a look that was both taken off-guard and offended, but he said nothing more to her, and just gave a loud “hmph!” and crossed his arms.

Sniper looked between Medic and his ex-wife with a bit of discomfort, and finished off his coffee. He then looked at Engineer, as if pleading with him silently to break the tension.

Engineer was spared this, however, when the telephone rang. “I’ll get that!” he said as he got up from the table, trying not to sound too eager about the change in conversation. He picked up the phone and answered in a cheery tone. “Hello, Conagher residence, Dell speaking.”

“There you are!” It was Scout. “What the hell, man, why’d ya hang up on me when I was callin’ you earlier?”

“I’m terribly sorry, Scout, but I wasn’t in when you called,” said Engineer. “Pyro musta been th’ one t’ hang up on you. I apologize on his behalf.”

“Man, I have been callin’ just about everybody an’ I haven’t been able ta get through ta one goddamned person,” said Scout. “The hell is even goin’ on?”

“We were havin’ a bit of a crisis over here, Scout, but it’s all settled now,” said Engineer. “It’s nothin’ you need t’ worry about. Now, why were you tryin’ t’ get a hold a’ me, if I don’t mind askin’.”

“Oh yeah!” Scout’s voice was now filled with excitement. “I’m at the hospital right now! I’m a father! Again!”

“Well, congratulations, son!” said Engineer with a smile. He put a hand on the receiver and turned to his guests. “Scout’s wife just had her baby!”

This announcement gave way to group congratulations and exclamations of excitement and joy, all mixed and swirled over each other. “Is boy or girl?” Heavy asked over the babble, cupping a hand over his mouth to be heard.

“Scout, is it a boy or a girl?” Engineer asked.

“It’s a girl!” Scout declared with gusto. “I mean, y’know, I was really hopin’ for a boy, I hadn’t thought out any girl’s names before, but Bunny did.”

“Well, what’s her name then?” Engineer asked, making sure that the others could hear the pronoun he used.

“Jean,” Scout said proudly. “Jean Louise.”

“Jean Louise,” Engineer repeated out loud. The smile on his face gave way to an expression of confusion when he uttered that last syllable. “Wait, Jean Louise? Doesn’t that sound a bit like-”

Scout cut him off. “I’m sorry, Engie, I gotta go,” he said. “I’ll call ya back later, all right?”

“Well, all right,” said Engineer. “You take care a’ little Jean, then.”

“Yeah, I will, thanks, bye.”

“Bye,” said Engineer as Scout hung up. He put the phone back on its hook, and turned back to his guests. “Well,” he said, “I think we might need ta drop by an’ see Scout for some celebratin’.”

“You should pick out cigars,” said Soldier. “That’s the proper way to celebrate for anything. Bring cigars. Hell, I could use one right now.”

“I don’t have any,” said Engineer. “I kinda promised Rosie I wouldn’t be smokin’ anythin’.”

“Seriously?” Soldier gave Engineer and incredulous look. “And you’re going to take orders from your teenage daughter?”

“It’s not ‘takin’ orders,’ it’s makin’ a promise,” said Engineer. “You know, there’s a lot a’ studies linkin’ tobacco use to cancer. I’m jus’ glad I never was a habitual smoker. Made it much easier t’ quit.”

“Bullshit,” said Soldier. “I’ve been smoking cigars since I was 16 years old, and I’m perfectly healthy.”

“Are you?” Medic asked, looking over at Soldier. “Or did ze effects of ze Medigun postpone ze effects of ze smoke a little longer?”

Ilse rolls her eyes. “Oh, not zis again,” she muttered, picking up her purse and fishing through it.

“Did you all forget vhen I dissected Spy’s lungs for you?” asked Medic. “I did zat for educational purposes and not just my own amusement, contrary to popular belief. Quite frankly I’m amazed ze man hasn’t keeled over and died already.”

“I’m going outside for a cigarette,” Ilse announced. “Anyvone care to join me?”

“I will,” said Sniper, sounding a little too eager to leave the kitchen as he stood up from his chair.

“Me too as well, luv,” said Demoman, getting up to join them.

Soldier saw the three of them getting up to leave the kitchen and immediately stood up and joined them, the four of them walking outside to the porch, with Soldier inadvertently slamming the screen door behind them. This left Engineer, Heavy and Medic alone in the kitchen, as Medic stared past the surface of the table, a look of consternation on his face as Heavy put a hand on Medic’s shoulder in an attempt to soothe him.

“Uh…” Engineer glanced out the kitchen window as Ilse pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offering them to the others. He then looked to Medic, who was now meeting his gaze, with that same agitated and disappointed glare. Engineer laughed it off, albeit uncomfortably. “Well, you know how folks are, Doc. They’re not gonna-”

“She did zat on purpose,” Medic interrupted. “She’s purposely antagonizing me.”

Engineer wasn’t sure what to say to that. He was right; she did seem to be baiting him, she took pleasure in making him angry. It was a shame that their relationship had been reduced to pointless bickering over affairs long since made irrelevant, but there seemed to be little Engineer could do about it. “I’m sorry,” was all he could offer with a sigh and a shake of his head.

“It’s not your fault, Engineer,” said Medic with obvious resignation. “It’s pretty much ze vay zings vork out zese days between us.” He patted Heavy’s hand, and then stood up from his chair. “Come, Heavy. Let’s go home.”

“Are ya sure I can’t get ya more coffee?” Engineer asked, raising his hand slightly, as though he were hesitating to reach out towards them as they moved towards the door to leave.

“Nein, it’s evening vhere ve are,” said Medic. “Zhank you so much for hosting us, und zhank you for going in after Heavy.” He looked up to Heavy and gave Heavy an affectionate pat on the chest, bringing a smile to Heavy’s face. “If anyzing had happened to him…”

Engineer nodded. “Wouldn’t let that happen, Doc.”

“I know you vouldn’t,” said Medic.

“I tink it vas better Soldier vent instead of you,” said Heavy. “You vould have cut Soldier’s brother to itty bitty pieces.”

A wicked grin formed on Medic’s face at the thought. “You don’t seem too terribly vorried about anyzing happening to me, Schatz.”

“Nyet,” said Heavy. “I know you better den dat. Vould have come prepared. Vould have slaughtered him like an animal.”

“Oh, you do say ze sweetest zings, Lieber,” Medic said, and he gave Heavy a quick peck on the cheek.

“Yeah…” Engineer said, giving an uncomfortable chuckle. “Very… very sweet.”

“Zhank you again, Engineer,” said Medic as Heavy opened the screen door for him. “Hopefully, ve shall see you again soon.”

“No reason why ya couldn’t,” said Engineer. “And thank ya again for so graciously hosting Soldier. That was a mighty big help.”

“You’re velcome,” said Medic. “It vas… not nearly as unpleasant as I vas expecting.”

“Are you leaving already?” Ilse called out to Medic. She was leaning on the porch railing with a cigarette in her hand and a sardonic smirk on her face.

“Yes, ve are,” said Medic, hands behind his back and his back straight. “Ze atmosphere here has gotten razzer stuffy.”

“I’m sure it will clear up once you’ve left,” said Ilse, and she blew smoke towards Medic’s face.

Medic scowled at her, and Heavy took Medic by the shoulders and guided him down the porch steps. Heavy just gave Engineer a helpless look and a shrug, and put an arm around Medic’s shoulder as they made their way to the teleporter back to their home. Medic stepped on first, and as the teleporter started to spin to life, he squinted at Ilse, and his tongue darted out of his mouth. Before Ilse could even retaliate, he vanished. Demoman gave out a hoarse, loud laugh, and Ilse scrunched up her face as she gave her boyfriend a comical sneer.

Heavy looked up to the window in the attic, and waved. “GOOD-BYE, PYRO!” he shouted. Pyro poked his head out of the window and waved back as Heavy stepped onto the teleporter and was taken back to Italy.

Engineer gave a sigh and looked to Ilse, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you really hafta antagonize him so needlessly, Ilse?”

“Oh please,” she said. “I vas ze vone married to him for over twenty years. Let me have my fun.” She gave Engineer a cat-like smile.

“Help me out here, Demo,” Engineer pleaded.

“Sorry,” said Demoman, grinning like a loon. “Yer barkin’ up th’ wrong tree, Engie. She’s wearin’ th’ pants in this relationship. Me, I’m wearin’ th’ kilt!”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Johnny was in a hospital bed, surrounded by privacy curtains and a sanitized wall. His mind was still in a fog due to the medication, his arm was in a cast, there were stitches on his face, he had bruised and broken ribs and wires on his jaw. The police had wanted to question him but couldn’t due to the wires holding his jaw in place. He lay in bed, staring ahead at the curtains; just staring. He thought of his brother. He flexed his good arm, clenching his hand into a fist, and stared.

Miriam had come into see him; she’d told the boys. His youngest son has just started his senior year at Yale, his oldest was in Chicago working for a firm. Neither of them had been able to make it to visit so far, and only Miriam had visited, averting her eyes from his and quietly sitting in the chair by his bedside. Occasionally, she would regard his body with a sort of detached curiosity, as though she could not comprehend that Johnny could have sustained such severe injuries… perhaps, that he was even capable of being injured so badly. He hated her for it. But he was unable to do anything, or to even say anything. So he just stared and clenched and unclenched his fist.

He didn’t know what else he could do.

The curtain separating him from the rest of the world was pulled back, and a nurse he didn’t recognize stepped inside, and closed the curtain behind her. She looked Johnny over, and shook her head, giving him a tut-tut. “My, my, mister Doe,” she said, giving him a playful grin. “What on earth did you get yourself into?”

He squinted at her, and tried his best to give her a verbal response. “Whourryoo?”

The air around the nurse rippled as her bouncy blonde nurse facade gave way to a more familiar figure, a dark-haired man with a hawkish nose, glittering eyes, and a knowing smirk. Johnny’s eyes went wide with recognition.

“I told you,” Spy said, leaning against the wall and looking down on Johnny. “I told you zat one man could not fight so many people alone. Now look at you. And here I was trying to do you a favor.”

“Fukkyoo,” Johnny growled.

“No zhank you,” said Spy. “But I’m flattered, really.” He looked Johnny up and down, surveying his injuries. “So, who was it zat got to you? Heavy, perhaps?”

Johnny gave a contemptuous snort.

“Surely, it had to have been him,” said Spy. “Ze man has both ze strength and the capability for sheer brutality. Am I right?”

There was no response from Johnny aside from a stare that suggested he wanted Spy to drop dead on the spot.

“Or,” said Spy, making his way around the bed, “did Heavy have company?” Johnny’s eyes widened, and Spy leaned over him. “So who was it?” he asked. “He didn’t bring Medic along did he? No, of course not… you would not even be alive had Medic gotten a hold of you… no, you’d be in several different formaldehyde jars, lining his bookshelf and being pecked at by his pigeons.” Spy gave a cringe at the thought.

Seemingly out of thin air, Spy pulled out Johnny’s chart, and looked it over with pursed lips. “No lacerations, no burns, no gunshot wounds… I zhink we can eliminate Sniper, Demoman and Pyro zen. And I know for a fact Scout could not have been zhere… I am going to guess Soldier came back and did not take kindly to you intruding. Am I correct?”

Johnny flinched.

“But it wasn’t just him, was it?” Spy asked, setting the charts down on the bed. “Oh, no, you had to have touched somebody’s nerve… you had to have crossed a line zat no reasonable man would dare not cross, and incur ze wrath of a man who you made ze mistake of zhinking was not a zhreat to you, because of his polite and friendly nature.” Spy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a plastic bag, and in it was a photo of Engineer’s wife and daughter, still marked with a dried, clear substance. “I’m sure you remember zis,” he said, dangling it in front of Johnny’s face.

Spy smirked as Johnny’s body went tense; even in his medicated state he was petrified, eyes wild and furious.

“You’re a sick man, you know zat?” asked Spy, looking over the photo. “I shudder to zhink of what you were zhinking of, whacking off to a photo like zis. But I’m pretty sure I have a good idea.” He tucked the bag back into his jacket.

Powerless, Johnny’s eyes were trained onto Spy. He was a captive audience to the Frenchman’s gloating, and this knowledge caused him to tremble with a fury so hard that the bed rattled. Spy, however, barely seemed to notice this.

“I hope you feel better,” said Spy, “getting zat last hurrah out of your system. Are you satisfied now? Is your pride sufficiently sated? You couldn’t leave well enough alone, going against my good advice for what? A suicidal ego trip? What is you were hoping to accomplish?” He leaned on the bed rail, his chin in his hand, and looked at Johnny, as though he expected an answer. Johnny wanted to clench his teeth, but the rubber bands in his mouth prevented him from doing so.

“Listen,” said Spy, “I wish to make you a generous offer. I still have zose negatives, zhough I should have released zem as soon as I found out about zis little fiasco of yours. But really, given ze beating you received, it would hardly be sporting to release zem, don’t you zhink?” His tone was sly and playful, but in a sinister way, like a fox that was playing with a field mouse it had caught before breaking its neck. Johnny gulped.

Spy reached into his back pocket, pulling out some folded papers and a pen. He held them up in front of Johnny, and Johnny’s brow furrowed as he read them.

“Transfer of custody,” explained Spy, though he already knew that Johnny had figured that out. “I’ve already arranged everyzing. I zhink you will find it is all completely legitimate, and very official. All I need from you,” he held out the pen in front of Johnny, “is to sign.”

“Can’t,” Johnny managed to say. “Arrbrroke.”

“Use your good one zen,” said Spy.

Johnny moved his uninjured left arm and snatched the pen out of Spy’s fingers. Oh, how he could have grabbed Spy by the throat right there, choked him until he passed on the floor and could be collected by the cops. But somehow he didn’t think the cops could hold a guy like this, a man who’d been able to follow him, completely undetected, and document his own most secret excursions… not just documenting, but doing so in a way that there was no doubt it was him.

So this is what it felt like to be helpless.

He’d felt it underneath Engineer’s boots, of course, lying on the floor with his little brother looking down on him. Even in Iwo Jima he hadn’t felt like this. There’d always been a way to fight back, he could always grit through the pain, find a way to push forward… but there were no bullets here, nor bombs; only a Frenchman and a roll of negatives.

With a firm grip on the pen, he sloppily signed each page that Spy presented to him, each signature chipping away at his sense of invincibility. Had it been invincibility he’d felt? What friends he did have always called him cocky, proud, a hardass… at least to his face. He suspected that they may have said less flattering things while his back was turned, but they’d never do so to his face. They feared him. But the Spy didn’t share that fear all, the Spy was the one with the power, the one with the upper hand. Was this how people felt towards him? He couldn’t say he cared much this feeling. Hated it, in fact. More than anything he wanted the power back, to make that smug French cocksucker cower in fear, to make him yell and scream and completely lose control of himself and throw himself to Johnny’s feet, begging for mercy.

But as he signed the last page and Spy swiped the pen from his hand, he knew that such a thing would never happen.

“Zhank you so much,” said Spy, tucking away the pen and papers. “Hopefully, we will never have to see each ozzer again. Not zat it hasn’t been a pleasure dealing wizh you. Just keep out of trouble, and you will be kept out of trouble.” As he spoke those last few words, his smile faded, giving way to a grim frown.

They stared each other down, the atmosphere uneasy, like two gangsters that had stumbled across each other in some neutral territory and were caught in a stand-off. Spy took a few steps back, pressed a button on his watch, and turned back into the blonde bimbo nurse from before.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” he said, adopting a feminine voice with an uncanny accuracy, “I have a dear friend to visit, her daughter-in-law just gave her a new granddaughter.” He gave a girlish titter as Johnny stared at him agog. But the smirk came back, and his eyes narrowed, and his expression turned into one that was completely and totally the Spy.

“I’ll be seeing you,” he said coyly, his voice coming from the lips of this otherwise bubbly looking woman. He pulled the curtain aside, and strode out on clacking high heels, leaving Johnny on his own.

And there was absolutely nothing that Johnny could do.

Why are you so good to us, Cat? Why?

Yaaaaaaaaaaaay a happy ending(-ish)! The cattiness and implied messy history between Medic and his ex-wife was lovely, and it was so considerate of Spy to handle the paperwork like that. The thought of a scrappy 16 year old Jane Doe smoking cigars made me smile. Just gorgeous as usual, Cat.

Also: Jean Louise. God damn it, I giggled.

wuahahahahhahahahahaha I love Spy in this. such a sassy one he is.
can't wait for the next arc!
Though I can't help but wonder if this truly /was/ the end of Johnny. for now, maybe.

'“Sorry,” said Demoman, grinning like a loon. “Yer barkin’ up th’ wrong tree, Engie. She’s wearin’ th’ pants in this relationship. Me, I’m wearin’ th’ kilt!”'

My god, I laughed so hard.
Great story, as always.

I like Spy's relationship with the Scout Family

You know, I think the biggest thing I enjoy about your fiction stories is the dialogue between the characters. You really put a lot of thought into how everyone acts and talks around each other - staying true to their personalities and qualities. In all honesty, this turns everything your write into crack, which I am more than happy to admit my addiction to.

Is it alright that I was smiling the entire time the Spy was gloating over Johnny?

I finished this chapter with the stupidest grin on my face. I didn't even know I could make this face.
How sassy Ilse is, the whole scene with spy, how adorable your heavy is. My cheeks hurt from the strain.

Stupid grins all round here.

I love how Medic and Ilse's pet names get increasingly offensive.

God. This story.

So many feelings. I adore Solly and this makes me cryyyyy tears of sadness. And love. U-ugh. So much love. I just wanna cuddle him forever.

Or have Engie cuddle him. That'd work too.

This... this is epic epicness of epic proportions. But you know that already. Just thought I'd confirm it.

One thing:

“Jean Louise,” Engineer repeated out loud. The smile on his face gave way to an expression of confusion when he uttered that last syllable. “Wait, Jean Louise? Doesn’t that sound a bit like-”
Anyone wanna explain this one to me? I am more than a little confuzzled.

Jean Louise is the main character in To Kill a Mockingbird, and the joke is that she's nicknamed Scout.

I thought it was simpler than that -- Jean Louise sounds like Geez Louise.

Oh man, I cannot wait for the next chapter.

Cat, have my man-babies.

Ok, I think it's been sufficiently long enough since the last 'legit' post that everyone should start sageing again, if only for the poor people who keep thinking this updated.

Just re-read the entire story and prequel in one sitting again. So. Many. Feels. GODDAMN. I am legitimately in love with this, and you, Cat. I can't wait for more.

PART 16 IS FINISHED I GUESS THIS IS THE START OF A NEW ARC.

OH BOY.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


It had been about all of 20 minutes since Demoman, Ilse and Sniper had returned to Demo’s home, and already Sniper was gathering what few things he’d brought and bringing them out to his van.
“Leaving so soon?”

Sniper turned to see Ilse standing just outside the front door, holding one of her dogs in her arms. He moved his arm to close the passenger-side door, but lingered. “Well, I mean… not much else fer me t’ do here, now is there?”

“I suppose not,” she said, scratching between the ears of the little black Scottie dog. “I don’t suppose you are going to leave vizzout saying goodbye, now are you?”

“Naw,” he said, closing the door. “I wouldn’t.”

“Good,” said Ilse. “I’ll go fetch Tavish.” She slipped back inside, still carrying the terrier in her arms, and the door was left slightly ajar. A familiar furry, black-and-white head poked out, and looked to Sniper.

“Ya dinnit’ think I’d be settin’ off without you, didja, girl?” Sniper asked the dog, who perked her head up at being addressed. In her excitement, she rushed outside, letting the door open wide as she romped towards Sniper. He bent down to pat her on the head, and she leaned onto him, wagging her tail and panting happily.

“Oi, Mundy!” Demoman stepped outside, with a goofy grin plastered on his face. “Ye headin’ out, lad?”

“Yeah,” said Sniper, straightening up. “I’ve been puttin’ this off fer far too long, ya know?”

“I un’erstand,” said Demoman. “Thank ye fer ev’rythin’.”

“Think nothin’ of it, mate,” said Sniper. “Really, though, I should be thankin’ you fer all you’ve done fer me.” He extended a hand to Demoman. Demoman clasped onto it, and pulled Sniper in for a hug. They gave each other two pats on the back.

“Jes’ helpin’ out a friend in need,” said Demoman, as the pulled apart. “Good luck, lad. I hope ye ken sort this all out.”

“Yeah,” said Sniper, sounding more sullen. “Me too.”

Demoman gave Sniper a friendly clap on the shoulder and a hopeful smile. Sniper tried his best to smile back, and managed a weak, timid upturning of the mouth, coaxing what could be considered a smile.

“Ah, dinnae fret,” said Demoman. “It’ll all work out fine, jes’ you wait!”

“If you say so,” said Sniper.

“That’s th’ spirit!” Demoman boomed. He’d been in a good mood for the past week, riding the crest of a wave of optimism and positive vibes. How long could he keep this up before he’d crash and burn, Sniper thought. Not like that hadn’t happened before.

He realized that he was going to have to make this trip brief, before he’d come back to New Mexico to find Demoman wailing on the floor in a puddle of puke, booze and tears, with Ilse watching helplessly and insisting that he just “ride it out.” These things were cyclical, she’d say. They never lasted.

Best not to think about that right now, Sniper decided. He opened up the passenger door to his van again, and whistled. Without a hint of hesitation Maddie hopped in and sat on the seat, her tail thumping on the leather as Sniper closed the door. “G’bye, Tav,” he said, tipping his hat.

“G’bye, Mundy,” said Demoman. Sniper stepped backwards, and then turned to walk around the front of the van, climbing in the driver’s side and shutting the door behind him. Sticking his key into the ignition and bringing the van rumbling to life. He adjusted his mirrors, waved to Demoman and Ilse one last time, and drove out of the roundabout in front of Demoman’s mansion.

As the house faded in the distance in his rearview mirrors, he thought about the drive to Utah. He estimated it’d be about a 12 hour drive, which was fine by him. He liked driving, especially when he was alone. It gave him time to think, and given the nature of his mission, he could use it. He turned on the radio, and heard the first few chords of “Do You Believe in Magic” start up. He shuddered in disgust and changed the station. He couldn’t say why, but that song gave him the creeps. He turned the knob on the radio, scanning the stations for something a little less saccharine. The needle moved further down the dial, until he landed on The Who. He tapped his fingertips on the steering wheel to “Won’t Be Fooled Again.” Maybe this could be a good omen, he though. He loved The Who. He’d gotten Demoman into them, almost ten years ago, while they were sitting around a fire getting drunk and swapping stories under the star-dusted sky of Goldrush.

He drove off headed for the highway, and didn’t look back.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Pyro liked the attic very much. He liked going through the many dusty cardboard boxes in there, and discovering what was inside. It was like hunting for buried treasure! Except that instead of gold doubloons or rare gems, there would just be a bunch of old clothes and books. Pyro didn’t mind though. He’d found a faded sunhat and was now wearing it upon his head. He liked the silk flowers fastened to it, and imagined that they were once a bright and vivid pink, instead of the sickly pale red they were now. He was rummaging through a box of children’s books when he came across a copy of The Wizard of Oz. He gave an excited squeak.

The Wizard of Oz brought back memories. Not the bad ones, the ones at the place Pyro could only hazily remember, the place with the scary men with needles and straps and screaming and crying... No, this was before that, in a dark theater watching The Wizard of Oz on the big screen. He remembered how he had gasped in delight seeing the black and white world turn to glorious, vivid color, and he wanted to be in Oz. The colors were brighter, there was singing and dancing, and Dorothy was so pretty with her prim blue gingham dress and her glittering ruby slippers. Pyro wished he could be that pretty too, to skip along the yellow brick road, arm-in-arm with his best friends while a tiny little dog trotting at his heels. Tears welled up in his eyes at the thought, and lifted his goggles just enough to allow him to wipe away at them.

In his mind, he had his own Oz. It’d been years since he was able to return, and he missed it. The only way to get there was to use fire as a portal to it; the more fire, the stronger it was. Fire meant freedom, fire meant liberation and joy, fire burned down the scary place with the needles and the screaming, consuming the scary men with it, melting them like the Wicked Witch of the West. Fire used to be so scary, when the scarecrows arm lit up with flame, but once he’d mastered it, why, it became beautiful! Fire was the most beautiful thing in the entire world! He could see through it, to the rainbows and sunshine and candy and flowers that lie behind it. He just had to look hard enough, believe hard enough. Clap if you believe in fairies, he thought. (Oh, Peter Pan… He liked Peter Pan very much too. He wondered if Engie might have a copy of that up here as well.)

He set the book aside by the mattress. He would read it later, he thought. He wasn’t the best at reading in English. Children’s books were usually much easier, but the science fiction novels he so loved would often have bigger, more daunting words; the kind of words that Engineer and Medic and Spy liked to use. Maybe he could ask for help, now that he was living with Engineer. That’d be nice. Maybe he could even ask Engineer to read it to him, and make him do voices (not that he needed it, but oh, how fun that would be!)

Outside, he heard a noise. He peered out the window to see a car pulling up outside the house, and Pyro tilted his head. It stopped moving, and the side door opened. Out stepped a girl with frizzy red hair tied back into a ponytail, and and from behind her jumped a very familiar German shepherd with one mechanical leg.

“GUURR DURRG!” Pyro shouted, scrambling for the attic hatch. He kicked it open and sent the ladder shooting down to the carpeted floor below. He scuttled down, and ran down the hall and into the kitchen. Soldier was at the kitchen table, hunched over a newspaper, and as Pyro bounded in his head snapped upright, and he looked around in alarm.

“What the hell’s going on?” Soldier demanded, as Guard Dog started barking just outside the door to be let in, scratching on the wooden doorframe. Pyro opened the door, and the dog ran inside, stopping his frolicking briefly to investigate the two newcomers in the kitchen. After shoving his nose straight into Soldier’s crotch and eliciting a startled and angry cry from the man, Guard Dog turned to the strange covered human who was murmuring his old name.

“Guurd durrg!” said Pyro, crouching down. “Ursh meeh!”

Guard Dog approached Pyro, and after a rudimentary sniff, began to wag his tail and lick at Pyro’s goggles. The screen door opened again, and the girl walked in carrying a suitcase. The rhythm in her step was thrown off however when she saw Soldier and Pyro in the kitchen.

“Uh…” she looked at Soldier. “Hello, Sir.”

“Rosie,” Soldier acknowledged her curtly. He said nothing else, but looked at Rosie as though he were expecting something else from her.

Not sure what else to say, her eyes wandered to Pyro, and Pyro returned her gaze. He tilted his head in curiosity. “Hurr,” he said.

“Who is that?” Rosie asked, gesturing towards the man who was now sitting on the kitchen floor. “And… why are they wearin’ Mama’s hat?”

“That’s Pyro,” said Soldier. “He didn’t show up last week because he was homeless. And I have no idea.” Soldier looked back to his paper. “I assume it is because he is a fruit.”

“Oh…” Rosie looked Pyro up and down. “Are they… always covered up like that?”

“Yes,” said Soldier. “Always. Nobody’s ever seen his face.”

“If nobody’s seen his face, then how do you even know if he’s even a he?” asked Rosie. She set her suitcase down, crossed her arms and tossed her ponytail. “They’re wearin’ a ladies’ hat.”

“Because I would not tolerate any women in my unit,” snapped Soldier. “Therefore, ergo, vis-a-vis, Pyro is a man.” He looked to Pyro, who was rubbing guard Dog’s tummy. “Isn’t that right, Pyro?”

Pyro nodded, not wanting to add fuel to this debate. Admittedly, it didn’t much matter to Pyro; he was perfectly content to be whatever anybody wanted him to be at the time, and his teammates called him “he” and “him,” so he was boy. It was quite simple, really.

Rosie didn’t seem convinced. She looked to Pyro, and for the first time, addressed him. “Well,” she asked, “are you really a boy? Or are you a girl?”

Truthfully, Pyro wanted to answer “girl” just to make her happy, but her happiness would incur Soldier’s anger, so he decided to stick with the pronoun he’d used for the last decade. “Burr,” said Pyro.

“Told you,” said Soldier, not even looking up from the paper.

“Well, fine then,” Rosie huffed. “Where’s Daddy?”

“Dead,” Soldier said. He looked up at Rosie to see her face twisted into a horrified grimace. “Oh, your dad. Pretty sure he’s out back.”

“Why in th’ heck would I ask you where your dad- you know what? Forget it,” she walked out of the kitchen and headed for the back door. “Forget it!”

Soldier watched her leave, and gave a contemptuous snort. “Women,” he muttered, loud enough for Pyro to hear. “Good thing you’re not a woman, am I right?”

Pyro adjusted the brim to the sunhat on his head, and nodded.


__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


“Hey Daddy!”

Engineer had been leaning on the fence at the edge of his property, and saw his daughter come towards him with open arms. “Pumpkin!” he said, and caught her as she ran into his arms, wrapping her in a tight hug. “How’s my baby girl?”

“Glad that yer okay,” she said. “Is everythin’ alright now?”

“Yeah,” said Engineer, patting Rosie on the back. “I don’t think we’ll ever have any trouble from that man again.”

“Who was it?” Rosie asked breaking the embrace and looking up at him, her eyebrows arched softly with concern.

“It doesn’t much matter now, darlin’,” said Engineer. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.”

“If it doesn’t matter now, then it wouldn’t hurt jus’ tellin’ me who it was,” Rosie insisted. “You… you didn’t kill this person, didja?”

“What? No!” Engineer said, perhaps coming off as just a little too defensive. “Of course not! I jus’ had to… reason with him, is all.”

Rosie didn’t look convinced. She crossed her arms, and gave her father a discerning glare. “That ain’t a euphemism fer somethin’ nastier than that, is it?”

“Of course not!” Engineer sputtered. “Why would you think that?”

“I dunno,” said Rosie. “Maybe ‘cause I saw you with a gun jus’ the other day. I never even knew you had one. How long did you keep that a secret from me?”

“Honey, we’re from Texas,” said Engineer. “It is not unfeasible that I’d own a gun. Most folks would be surprised if I didn’t.”

“That ain’t th’ point an’ you know it!” Rosie said, balling her fists. “I’m sick of you lyin’ t’ me all th’ time, all right? Like you don’t think I can handle th’ truth! I’m sick of it! I’m not a little girl any more, daddy. Can’t you just tell me what’s goin’ on fer once?”

She was pouting at him, her green eyes filled with a puppy dog sadness that Engineer knew all too well… she’d used it on him since she was a toddler, bending his will like Superman could bend steel, all just through softly arched brows and a tilt of her head. She was desperate. He avoided her gaze and closed his eyes, bracing himself the way he’d brace himself when Medic wanted to try and remove a bullet without anesthetic. “It was Jane’s brother.”

“What?” Rosie asked. She hadn’t fully expected her father to say anything, and it showed on her face.

“Jane’s... Soldier's brother…” said Engineer, leaning back against the fence. “He’s th’ one that broke into th’ garage. He’s a very scary fella, Rosalie. Th’ whole reason Jane’s even movin’ in with us is so he can get away from his brother.” He stood up straight again. “But he’s not gonna bother us anymore. I made sure a’ that.”

“Is he dead?” asked Rosie. “ ‘Cause… ‘cause I heard… I heard that you…”

A lump formed in Engineer’s throat that felt as big as a baseball. “Oh, no, sweetie,” he put his hands on her shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “Listen… he’s not dead. He tried t’ hurt me an’ Jane an’ Heavy an’ I had to fight him back… he’s not dead, but I beat him up pretty bad, but that was because I was afraid that…” He tried to swallow the lump, but it wouldn’t go down. “…I was afraid he’d try an’ hurt you.”

Rosie didn’t respond. She trembled, like a china vase in an earthquake, fragile and on the verge of shattering. Engineer bit his lip. “You don’t gotta worry about him, Pumpkin,” he said. “It’s all over. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“Is it?” Rosie asked with a deliberate solemnity. She just looked at her father, who seemed powerless to respond. “‘Cause sometimes I wonder if I even really know you.”

She turned away, her ponytail swishing into Engineer’s face, causing him to recoil as she walked back to the house, her movements brisk and angry, as though her legs were scissors slicing across the fabric of the backyard.

“Rosie!” Engineer scrambled for some kind of semblance of control over this situation. He remembered what Soldier had said to him about being a pushover, and he felt his face grow red. “Rosalie May Conagher! Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

“I don’t wanna talk to you right now!” she shouted, not even looking back at him. “Jus’ leave me alone!”

“I am your father!” Engineer shouted back, running to catch up with her. “Rosie! I said get back here!”

“GO AWAY!” she turned around and screamed.

“Not until you tell me why you’re upset!” said Engineer. “I already explained how everythin’ was fine, an’ here you are actin’ like… like an ungrateful little brat!”

Oh, he thought, as Rosie flinched. He shouldn’t have said that. He covered his mouth, as if to try and take back those words. She hung her head, contemplating the grass beneath her shoes.

“I ain’t stupid, daddy,” she said. “You were killin’ people back when you were workin’ for RED, weren’t you?”

Engineer was at a loss for words. His lips moved as though he were trying to force out words, any words at all. “Same nine people over an’ over again,” he finally mumbled. Oh God, those were the wrong words.

“What?” Rosie looked at him, her lip curling in both confusion and disgust.

“Look,” he said, holding up his hands to try and soothe her, “I needed that job, Rosie, I only did what I had t’ do for your mother. You don’t understand how desperate I was, Rosie, an’ I couldn’t have told you… you were so little, I didn’t want you… tainted with that. I’d lost my job, Rosie, my career was ruined all by one stupid, careless mistake… an’ I did what I had t’ do to provide fer you an’ t’ save your mother. I’da done anything for you two, an’ I did. All for you.” He spread his arms wide in invitation. “So, there you have it. All right? I built guns. Lots of guns. And we used them. We all did. Me, Jane, Pyro, Medic, Heavy, Spy, Scout, Demoman, Sniper… “ (She winced at the mention of Sniper, though to be honest, she knew she shouldn’t have been too surprised… he was called “Sniper,” for Pete’s sake!) “We all did it! We all killed people! An’ we were goddamned good at it, too! The best, even! Hell, I might’ve even enjoyed it...” his voice faltered and he fought the lump in his throat again, “but that don’t even matter now. I took that job because I needed th’ money t’ treat your mother, t’ make sure you’d have an education… maybe even t’ make sure you wouldn’t ever have to end up takin’ a job like that. I did it because I love you. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted t’ hear?”

Engineer tried to catch his breath, his ribcage constricting his lungs. Not a heart attack, just anxiety, he thought. He’d never said any of this out loud. He’d never wanted to say it out loud… and technically, he was breaching contract by saying so. What the hell did that contract even matter anymore? He looked to Rosie, his eyes pleading, trying to assess her judgment of him from her blank expression.

The anger in her eyes had flickered out, and was replaced with a kind of bovine dullness, the gaze of a person in shock. Her color drained, and, moving like a sleepwalker, she turned and began to walk away.

“Rosie?” he called, the fire in his belly now extinguished. “Darlin’?”

“I need to be alone,” she said. She was operating on auto-pilot, drifting back to the house like detritus being carried away by ocean currents. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Engineer watched helplessly as she moved in a waking sleepwalk, going back inside through the backdoor. He expected her to slam the screen door in her wake, but it shut on itself almost as an afterthought. Engineer stood in place, his hand over his mouth, until his hand curled over his lips and chin, sliding down his face. He should have said nothing. What did she think of him now? Why on earth did he admit to enjoying blasting away at sons of bitches with his giant automated machines of death?

The lump in his throat was now fighting to escape, in the hopes that it might be coughed up, like a hairball. But really, it felt more like a tumor. That was a ridiculous thing to think, really, because he knew full well it was not a tumor, just his body’s reaction to anxiety and stress and anger and sadness all balled up together and coalescing in his esophagus. His face felt hot. Maybe if he gave her some time to cool down, he thought, she might be more reasonable. It had worked before. She was a teenager, prone to irrationality and melodrama. The image he’d worked so hard to carefully craft to her, the image of a polite and gentle man of intellect and reason, was now shattered. She couldn’t possibly understand, he thought. She was just too young and full of innocent naiveté and her mother's instilled idealism.

He needed to take his mind off this, he decided. He needed to work.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Pyro has still been sitting on the kitchen floor petting Guard Dog when Rosie came back inside. Soldier lowered his newspaper to observe her dour expression, and spoke up. “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Don’t talk to me,” she said, not even looking at him as she walked into the kitchen to fetch her suitcase, and immediately turned to head back to her room. Pyro craned his neck to peer down the hall, watching her go into her bedroom and close the door behind her, barely making a sound. He leaned too far back, however, and rolled onto his back, sticking his feet in the air.

Soldier gave a dismissive snort, and returned to his paper. “Teenagers,” he muttered. He looked to Pyro. “Can you believe it? We’re shacking up with a spoiled teenage girl. She just walks all over Engie and he doesn’t even do a goddamned thing about it! He’s a pushover! He’s afraid of giving her some proper discipline!”

“Mmmph,” Pyro said absentmindedly, admiring his feet as he flexed them in the air, watching the leather of his shoes distort with his movements.

“I tell you what, Pyro, if she was my kid, I’ve taken her right over my knee and spanked her!” He smacked the table for emphasis. “That’d teach her to shoot her mouth off! Good ole’ corporal punishment, that’s what works. Am I right, Pyro?”

Pyro grabbed the tips of his toes, and rocked back and forth on his back. He felt anxious. Bored. He thought about matches and lighters.

Soldier frowned. “Eh, what do you know?” he said, loudly adjusting his paper. He grumbled to himself, words indistinguishable. After a moment of silence between them, Soldier turned the page and spoke up again.

“Teenagers, women… they’re the same, really. Neither of them will listen to reason. Teenage girls are the absolute worst, though. They’re a combination. And the worst part is they’ll grow up to be women! Feh! Am I right, Pyro?” Soldier lowered the newspaper to look to Pyro, only to see Engineer standing in the kitchen doorway, looking at Soldier with a furrowed brow.

Soldier blinked. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” said Engineer flatly, walking to the front door.

“Whurr yur gurrn, Errngee?” Pyro asked, sitting back upright.

“I’ll be in th’ garage if ya need me,” said Engineer, opening the screen door. “But I’d prefer t’ be alone fer a while.”

The screen door shut behind him, and Pyro watched him walk down the porch through the screen. Pyro didn’t like it when other people were sad or upset, and it was obvious that Engineer and his daughter were upset. This, in turn, mad Pyro sad, and Soldier’ irritation wasn’t helping things. Pyro flopped back onto the floor, lying spread eagle, as Guard Dog looked down at him and licked at his goggles.

“Hurr, Shurrljur,” said Pyro, sitting back up again. “Hurr.”

“What is it?” Soldier responded, crumpling up his newspaper. “Can’t you see I’m trying to read?”

“Shurreh,” said Pyro, bowing his head.

Soldier tossed the now balled up newspaper over his shoulder, where it rebounded off of the wall and hit him in the back of the head. He growled at it, as though to put it in its place, and then looked back to Pyro. “Hey, uh… Pyro?”

“Yrrsh?” Pyro looked up at him though lenses smeared with dog slobber.

“This morning,” Soldier started, sounding more unsure of himself, “when uh, you called me about Heavy and Engie… you uh… I heard your voice.”

Pyro hunched over, bowing his head in shame. “Uh knurr,” said Pyro.

“You never did that before,” Soldier said, as though thinking out loud. He rubbed his chin. “I mean, I know why you did it, and I’m glad you did but… uh…” Soldier scooted his chair closer to Pyro, glancing around to make sure no one else was nearby to listen in. “You don’t think I could… talk to you without anything over your mouth, could you?”

“Crrn’t yur urrnnershternd mree jurrsht furn?” Pyro asked.

“Well, I mean… well enough, I guess,” said Soldier. He rubbed the back of his neck. “But that’s only because we’ve known each other so long. A man learns to decipher a bunch of mumbles and murmuring after two years together with someone, you know? I mean… have any of the others heard your voice?”

Pyro shook his head.

“So I’m the only one?” Soldier pointed to himself for confirmation.

Pyro nodded.

“You realize what this means, don’t you?” Soldier scooted his chair even closer to Pyro, his voice low with furtive intent.

“Whuurt?” Pyro asked.

“That means,” Soldier poked Pyro in the chest, “that I’m the person you’re closer to than anybody else. I am 99% sure that makes us best friends now.”

Pyro couldn’t say he was expecting that turn. Best friends? Considering the last time Soldier had a best friend it ended with him yelling and screaming about how horrible the BLU Demoman was, he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. But they’d gotten into a fight, hadn’t they? Pyro didn’t like to get into fights if he could help it.

“Burrsh furrnds furevurr?” Pyro asked.

“Yeah, sure,” said Soldier. “Forever. Right. So… do you think you can trust me enough to talk to me without the scarves?”

“Wrry?” Pyro asked.

Soldier fidgeted, crossing his arms and squirming in his seat. “No reason,” said Soldier. “Just seems like it’d be a good way to establish trust, right? We trust each other, don’t we?”

Pyro tapped the scarf over his mouth in consideration. He let out a loud hum as he pondered, his head tilting upwards.

“What, you’ve got to think about it? Some best friend you are!” Soldier stood up from his chair and shoved it back by the table. “What’s a man have to do to earn your trust? Dammit, don’t you trust me?”

In his mind, a light bulb appeared over Pyro’s head, switching on. He giggled at the mental image. Just like in a cartoon. “Urr gurrt urn urdeer.”

“What?” asked Soldier, arms akimbo. “Like a trust-building exercise?”

Pyro nodded, hard enough that he could hear the cowbell playing in his head.

“So… what would this involve, exactly?”

Giddy, Pyro seemed to hop off the floor like a bunny, and scuttled towards the kitchen counter. There, he located a pad of paper and a pen, scribbled a short list, and shoved it in front of Soldier with all too much enthusiasm.

Soldier gave Pyro an odd look and took the list, giving it a thorough read as he squinted his eyes. “Oh no,” he said, shaking his head. “I know what all this is for. I just got here, Pyro, and I am not planning on getting myself kicked out already.”

“Uh currn curntrrrl urt! Uh purmissh!” Pyro insisted, pressing the notepad into Soldier’s chest. “Urt’ll burr urtshide. Furr uhweey. Trursht meeh!”

“Trust you?” Soldier asked. “Listen, trust is a two-way street, buddy. You didn’t want me to hear your voice again, why should I help you with this?”

“Burcussh Purrolurnd.”

“That means literally nothing to me, as I have no idea what you are talking about.” Soldier shoved the list back to Pyro. “Let me hear your voice again and I’ll help you. Deal?”

Pyro sighed. Why did Soldier want to hear his voice so badly, he wondered. Was he going to try and guess Pyro’s identity from his voice alone? Pyro knew he really couldn’t if he tried, but still. He preferred to be muffled, distorted. It was more comfortable that way. As he pulled at the cloth covering his mouth, he felt as though he were stripping naked for Soldier.

“Deal,” said Pyro. “Bring it to the back yard.”

Pyro ran off before Soldier could say anything more. He’d kept his promise. Now Soldier had to help him open the gate back to Pyroland.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Soldier met Pyro on the far edge of Engineer’s yard. He was lugging over a metal trash can, which he set down in front of Pyro.

“You’d better make this quick,” said Soldier. “I don’t think Engie noticed what I took out but he might get suspicious.

Pyro examined the contents of the trash can. He hadn’t required a whole lot; paper, tree branches and twigs, and most importantly a canister of kerosene on top of all of it. With the reverence of a priest handling the blood of Christ, he lifted the canister from its vessel, holding it above his head.

“You can control this, right?” asked Soldier. “You know if we set Engineer’s yard on fire he’ll probably give us the boot.”

“Uh-huh,” Pyro said, unscrewing the cap on the canister.

“What you’re going to show me better be impressive,” said Soldier. “Because all the time I saw you set shit on fire I didn’t see a goddamned thing except flames.”

Pyro pulled down at his scarf again to speak. “You have to look hard into it.”

“If you say so,” said Soldier. “This gets too out of control though, I’m getting the hose. You hear me?”

Soldier, this is a terrible idea, said Shovel Jr. You should tell Engineer.

“Shush!” Soldier put a finger to his lips and twisted his body as he put a hand on the pink plastic spade in his back pocket. “I have this under control.”

“Who are you talking to?” asked Pyro.

“Nobody,” Soldier lied. “Go ahead and do it already before I change my mind.”

Pyro slipped the scarf back over his mouth and splashed a generous amount of kerosene into the garbage can. This would burn well, he thought. He might even be able to get it up high enough to singe the heavens. He shuddered in anticipation. Satisfied with emptying the entire can onto the paper trash and wooden kindling, he tossed the empty can aside, and Soldier’s eyebrows arched in surprise. Pyro rummaged through his pockets, finding a box of matches. He was good at keeping his hands from shaking too hard when he did this; he’d had decades of practice. He only needed to strike the match once for it to catch, and he held it briefly in front of his face. His stomach went all flip-floppy, his toes curled and he felt his heart flood with joy as his pulse started to thrum in his ears. Soldier took a few steps back, and Pyro tossed in the match.

There was a might “WOOSH!” as a tower of flame shot upward to the sky, causing Soldier to let out a strangled cry of “JESUS!” as he stumbled backwards. Pyro looked heavenward as the flames licked the sky, orange and yellow flickering in a manic dance like an ancient temple priestess in times long gone. Pyro’s heart felt like a bird released from a cage, soaring in circles over the tower of flame, and Pyro spread his arms wide as if he were going to embrace the towering flaming spire.

“HUDDAH HUDDAH!” he shouted. “HUDDAH HUDDAH!”

In the center of the flame, he saw an opening, like an eye. He stared into it, and he could hear the music starting to play… beautiful, happy music, rising with his soul. He was looking beyond the fire know, and he could start to see it; rolling green pastel hills with giant lollipop trees that jutted from the ground at jaunty angles, fat floating puppies and kittens cavorting through the air and flying in braided patterned under a bright blue sky... he could see a yellow brick road, and he raised his hands slowly, summoning his dearest friend from Pyroland; the Balloonicorn.

Soldier was still sprawled on the ground, looking at the flames with a slack-jawed awe. Christ, he thought, they might be 12 feet high! Maybe even 15, who could say for sure? He sat transfixed, however, and stared into the yellow center of the flame, trying to see what Pyro saw. He thought he saw something, a flicker of a face that looked like the Devil’s. “PYRO?” he shouted. “PYRO!”

Pyro could barely hear him. He saw the chubby, pink, vaguely equine body of his old familiar friend, peering at him now through the glittering rainbow tower. He waved at Pyro with a stubby, round hoof, his whole body bouncing with excitement. Pyro raised his arms higher to call the creature to him, raising his arms like antennae picking up on some divine cosmic frequency, trying to tune into God Himself. “HUDDAH HUDDAH HUDDAH!” he shouted. “HUDDAH HUDDAH!”

The Balloonicorn bounded out through the opening, flying upwards in a spiral around the psychedelic tower of color and light, whinnying and bucking like a prancing pony. Pyro started to laugh. “BURRUNICURN!” he shouted, falling to his knees as he beckoned him. “IRSH HURR!”

Soldier blinked as he saw a fireball shoot out of the side of the flame, and some sort of… creature burst out of it. It was a horse, only it couldn’t possibly be a horse, because horses were not made of fire. It galloped out of the inferno, its hoofs scorching the air around it as it pushed its way out, as though born out of the fires of Hell itself. No, he wasn’t supposed to be seeing this, he thought, hands cupping his now color-drained face. This was where Shovel Jr. was supposed to tell him to take his medicine, but Shovel Jr. was silent. The beast looked at him, and he saw the sword jutting from the center of its skull. It was a unicorn, and it looked at him with molten white eyes that seemed to be liquefying in its skull. It stared through Soldier, and Soldier felt his skin start to burn. He let out a shrieking scream, and Pyro laughed as the flame grew higher.

“WHAT IN THE HELL?” a familiar voice shouted. Soldier turned to see Engineer running towards them, wielding a fire extinguished as he approached them, his face bright red. “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?”

Soldier couldn’t respond, his face transfixed in open-mouthed horror. Engineer stopped about five feet in front of the burning refuse and fired a jet of foam at the mouth of the trash can, causing the tower to flicker and die.

The Balloonicorn started to plummet into the white foam, giving out a sad whinny, and fell into the trash can. Pyro shrieked as Engineer sprayed that awful substance into the trash can, no, his altar, and the music in his head faded. Pyro stood frozen, aghast as the flames were extinguished before his very eyes. As the last of the flames were smothered, Pyro got to his feet and gripped the sides of the can, poking his head down it searching for his friend. The Balloonicorn was gone. Pyro gave a doleful look to Engineer, though Engineer couldn’t even see it due to the scarves and goggles covering his face. He let go of the can, slouching in dejection.

Engineer watched Pyro and worked to catch his breath. His shoulders slumped with relief, and he bowed his head. “Good night,” he muttered.

“Daddy?”

Engineer turned to see his daughter on the back porch, looking out to her father. Guard Dog stood by her, looking confused. “Daddy, was there just a huge fire out here?”

“Yeah,” Engineer said. No use in hiding it from her. “It’s all taken care of now pumpkin. Go on back inside a minute. I need t’ have a word with these two.”

Rosie, not wanting to stick around, backed away a few paces and retreated back inside. Guard Dog laid down on the porch, and panted, becoming a silent audience.

“Engie,” Soldier stood to his feet, dusting off his pants. “Thank God you showed up. You won’t believe what I-”

“What you let Pyro get away with?” Engineer snapped. “Yes, I think I believe that well enough, Jane.” He stepped up in front of Jane, wagging his finger at the taller man. “What th’ hell were you thinkin’, lettin’ Pyro start a fire! What in God’s name is wrong with you?”

Soldier opened his mouth to answer, but instead closed it, and looked down at the ground in shame. Engineer, unsure where to direct his anger, turned to Pyro. “And you! Why… Why on earth would you try an’ start a giant fire close enough t’ th’ stable that it couldv’e gone up in flames!” He pointed to the abandoned stale not ten feet away, and Pyro bowed his head in shame and twiddled his fingers.

“Urrm shurry,” Pyro said, his voice pathetic and soft.

“Yeah, well, you should be,” said Engineer. “You are darn lucky nobody got hurt an’ there wasn’t any damage done. If you’re gonna be staying here, I can’t have you lightin’ things on fire, especially if you’re unsupervised!”

“Shulljer wursh shuppervyshing,” Pyro protested.

“Soldier’s obviously not responsible enough t’ tell you when somethin’ is a terrible idea!” Engineer retorted. He spotted the empty kerosene canister lying in the grass, and picked it up, holding it for Soldier to see. “Is this what you snuck out of th’ garage while I was workin’? Hmm? Does this mean you actively encouraged this?”

Soldier cleared his throat and held his head up. “Pyro assured me he’d have everything under control,” said Soldier, attempting to hold onto some semblance of authority. “I took his word. We’re teammates, after all.”

Engineer groaned and massaged the bridge of his nose. He stayed quiet for a while, Pyro and Soldier looking to him like defendants waiting for a ruling to be made. Engineer became pensive, looking Soldier and Pyro over before he spoke up again.

“Listen,” he said. “I think we gotta establish some rules here. I don’t wanna hafta worry about leaving th’ two a’ you alone an’ comin’ home t’ cinder where my house used t’ be. Th’ two of you… you’re not th’ best as making sound judgments. This is a problem that I cannot abide if you are to be living under my roof.”

“You’re not going to kick us out, are you?” Soldier asked, sounding a bit frightened.

“Heck no,” said Engineer, although by his tone it certainly sounded as though he dearly wanted to. “I can’t. You two are my responsibility now. But you’re both… ill. Mentally. And like any sickness, you fellas are going to have to get it treated.”

Soldier’s posture went stiff. More doctors, he thought. Even more pills, as though he needed even more. He took a deep breath and braced himself, and Pyro wrung his hands anxiously and whimpered.

“Boys,” said Engineer, crossing his arms as he looked between them, “I think you’re going to have to be psycho-analyzed.”

Oh my god, a new arc? :D Happiness!

This is going in a very interesting direction. I will thoroughly enjoy watching you develop Pyro's character in this one. (The scene with the balloonicorn...fucking brilliant)

I imagined Demoman wailing on the floor and, gotta say, I laughed. Hopefully Sniper doesn't take too long, hehe. Your work never ceases to amaze me CB - one gem after another.

Oh my GOD thank you Cat.
I love Sniper and Demo as bros 5ever. I have a feeling that Sniper's going to need all the luck he can get in being reunited with his son. Jut the mini-reunion with his dog was sweet, I have a feeling I'm going to shed some tears if and when he sees River again.
I like how you kept Pyro ambiguous while still incorporating a bit of his(?) past and MtP. The bit with the sunhat was too cute (but probably a little invasive for Rosie. Poor Rosie.) Soldier being a sexist grump was great and as usual Shovel Jr dispenses sound advice. Very interesting that he got a glimpse of something that wasn't quite Balloonicorn. The image of Soldier trying to smoothly sneak stuff out from under Engineer's nose was also fantastic. I almost feel a little sorry for whoever is sent over to treat either of those two.
I'm curious as to why Soldier was trying to manipulate Pyro into talking muffle-free. I wonder if Pyro's androgynous voice sounds like Shovel...?
Already excited for the next chapter.

I love your take on pyrovision. It makes the most sense out of all the theories I've heard so far.
HEADCANON ACCEPTED

I love how you dealt with Pyro's gender, it's the same headcannon I have.
I caught two mistakes
In this paragraph
>The screen door shut behind him, and Pyro watched him walk down the porch through the screen. Pyro didn’t like it when other people were sad or upset, and it was obvious that Engineer and his daughter were upset. This, in turn, mad Pyro sad, and Soldier’ irritation wasn’t helping things. Pyro flopped back onto the floor, lying spread eagle, as Guard Dog looked down at him and licked at his goggles. >mad Pyro sad should be "made Pyro sad"
and in this paragraph
>In the center of the flame, he saw an opening, like an eye. He stared into it, and he could hear the music starting to play… beautiful, happy music, rising with his soul. He was looking beyond the fire know, and he could start to see it; rolling green pastel hills with giant lollipop trees that jutted from the ground at jaunty angles, fat floating puppies and kittens cavorting through the air and flying in braided patterned under a bright blue sky... he could see a yellow brick road, and he raised his hands slowly, summoning his dearest friend from Pyroland; the Balloonicorn. >He was looking beyond the fire know should be "He was looking beyond the fire now"

>>74

Whoops.

Thanks, I'll fix them on Dotchan's site.

....There's going to be more arcs!? Well fuck me, I thought this was just a side Solly story and then you would have given us the Epilogue. Man, the only thing I wish now more than ever, is to have Spy kinda make his move on Engie ...now that he helped out and what not. Rosie then finds out about that. Oh that would just be...so grand.

Do you know what I wonder about? I wonder if Rosie is going to get a tiny moment of awesomeness. I like her so much, I think she deserves one.

I'm really excited for the next part, psychology and characters are my favorite.

Also, I really felt like the argument between engie and his daughter was spot on realistic. It really reminded me of arguments I've had with my own dad.

I, for one, welcome our demonic Rapidash overlords.

Oh Lawd, this is getting good.

OH MY GOSH I AM VERY EXCITED!!!

Methinks Ilse is going to have her work cut out for her...

>>82

Ilse already stated that she wouldn't be treating Pyro and Soldier herself. Their doctor will be a character that will probably show up in the next update... after this one I'm posting right now.

CHAPTER 17 IS HERE GO READ IT.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


On the second day of his journey, Sniper turned off of the highway and onto the exit that lead to Bountiful. So far he hadn’t seen much of the state outside of its highways, freeways and truck stops, and one diner he’d stopped at for lunch, but as he drove into Bountiful, he remembered what Moonchild… no, Samantha had said about her childhood home.

She’d hated it. And as he drove around town he started to remember why.

The giant Church of the Latter-Day Saints of Jesus Christ was hard to miss, a massive, virgin-white temple to some sort of cockamamie American offshoot of Christianity called Mormonism that Samantha had been raised under. Samantha said that the Church was the reason why she’d run away from home at 16 after refusing to marry some Mormon boy her mother pushed upon her, why she’d changed her name to Moonchild and started hitchhiking across the country with bands of flower children. She’d partied and done drugs and had sex with strangers to distance herself from her oppressive household, she’d explained to Sniper. At the time, he’d laughed and said he couldn’t really much blame her for that. Sniper was not at all a religious man, and any religion that would deny black people heaven and not allow its followers to imbibe alcohol or even caffeine was highly suspect.

So why, he wondered, would she ever want to come back here, to this quaint little burg with shining, well-groomed white faces and picturesque landscapes that would look right at home in a painting in the house of an affluent old spinster? Was he really that bad that this was an acceptable alternative?

What a depressing thought.

He parked the van down the street from a phone booth, leaving the window open for Maddie. After a brief search in the yellow pages for her last name, he’d found that there were at least eight other Mayfields in Utah. Sniper had enough change to call all of them and then some, and he picked up the telephone receiver. He was probably going to be in this phone booth a while.

The first person he’d called was a little old lady who’d seemed disappointed when she’d realized Sniper had the wrong number. The second was a man who’d shouted at him as soon as he’d picked up the phone, telling Carla that for the last time, he didn’t want to talk to her, so she should just stop calling already that stupid cunt. Sniper was stunned momentarily by the outburst, and simply said “wrong number,” and hung up. The third rang twenty-six times with no answer, but the forth seemed promising. A woman picked up, her voice as sweet as honey and high pitched as a bell, and answered him.

“Hello, Mayfield residence,” she chirped.

“Uh, hello,” Sniper said, leaning on shelf where the phonebook was kept. “Is there a Samantha Mayfield living there, by any chance?” He was acutely aware how gruff he sounded in contrast.

There was a pause. “May I ask who’s calling, please?”

Sniper took a deep breath. “Tell her it’s Bruce,” he said. “I need to talk with her, if that’s all right.”

Another pregnant pause. Sniper shut his eyes in anticipation.

“Samantha’s not here,” she replied. “Don’t call back again.”

And she hung up.
Sniper pulled the phone away from his ear and regarded it as though he just discovered that it’d been a dead rat in disguise, and put it back in the cradle. He removed a pen from his vest pocket and circled the number of Mr. and Mrs. Mitch and Loretta Mayfield, and tore the page out of the phonebook. For a moment, he thought this might be one of the most heinous crimes committed in this sleepy little burg… before he remembered watching a news piece on some serial killer named Ted Bundy that’d kidnapped a high school girl from this very town not two years ago. Not helping matters was the fact that his own last name was about one letter away from that psychopath’s. He could only imagine what Samantha’s mother must have been thinking.

Fuck it, he thought. He came this far already. Might as well just pay her a visit.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


The nice thing about Bountiful was that despite Sniper’s rather scruffy appearance, people were more than willing to help him find Samantha’s place. A middle-aged cashier at a convenience store said her own daughter used to be friends with Samantha, and she’d driven to the house more than a few times. She gave him directions and a blessing of good luck, and Sniper thanked her as he paid for his pack of cigarettes by telling her to keep his change. With this knowledge, he set off for a neighborhood on the edge of town, a picket-fenced suburb that would have been perfect for Ozzy and Harriet. The lawns were all well tended, and Sniper drove slowly as children scurried out of the street for him to pass. The lawns were green and immaculate, the houses all nearly identical save for the colors, and in almost every driveway and garage there was a minivan parked. Sedans seemed to be a rarity here, and Sniper’s camper van couldn’t have been any more conspicuous.

As he rolled up in front of the house he’d been directed to, he noticed a small child with messy brown hair sitting in the front yard, back towards him, concentrating on playing with toy trucks. As he pulled in closer, the boy turned around, and his entire face lit up like a 100 watt bulb. Sniper parked the car, and the boy came running.

“DADDY!” he cried out, arms spread wide as he ran to Sniper, who stepped out of the van to catch the small child in his arms. Sniper lifted him off the ground and spun him, giving a groan of pretend exertion.

“Oh, you’ve gotten so big!” He said, and set the giggling boy back down on the ground. “You look like you’ve grown two feet while I was gone.”

“No, no, no,” said River, smiling until the dimples in his cheeks showed.

“You sure?” asked Sniper.

“Yeah,” he said bashfully. He turned to look at the dog poking her head out of the passenger window. “Maddie!”

The dog did an excited little dance as Sniper opened the door to let her out. She bounded to the child, and covered his face in slobbery dog-kisses as he giggled.

“What are you doing here?”

Sniper looked up to see Moonchild… no, Samantha, standing in the front doorway, hands placed on her hips as she glared at him. He almost didn’t recognize her, with her plain, modest clothing replacing her previously more bohemian fashion sense, and her straight, long blond hair now cropped just above her shoulders, curling inwards at the edges to frame her face. Sniper straightened his posture, and removed the akubra from his head.

“‘Ello, luv,” he said solemnly, holding his hat over his chest. All the confidence that he’d had coming over, all the will to assert himself seemed to melt like a puddle at his feet, dribbling off into the gutter as though it’d never existed. He cleared his throat. “I see you uh… got a haircut.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said, walking outside towards him. “Why are you here?”

“You told me not to call,” Sniper said with a shrug. “Dinnit’ say anythin’ about not comin’ t’ find you.”

“I’m pretty sure that implication was made very clear,” she said. The way she talked was different now, sharper, more deliberate. The lackadaisical sing-song tone she’d had years ago had long been phased out, but her delivery now seemed almost alarming in contrast. She approached him and poked him in the chest. “You shouldn’t be here. Go back home.”

“Can’t,” said Sniper. “I burned it down after you left.” He felt River’s wide eyes looking up at him in complete shock. “‘Ey, listen, maybe we should go inside...”

“Out here’s fine,” said Samantha. “River, honey, could you run inside with Grandma?”

“‘Kay,” said River with an exaggerated nod, and he took a hold of Maddie’s collar as he led the animal back indoors. The front door shut, and Sniper and Samantha stared each other down a while longer before he spoke up.

“So, wos I that bad?” he asked.

“What?” Samantha asked, her upper lip curled up over her teeth in a sneer.

“Well,” said Sniper, “you used t’ go on an’ on about how you hated living with yer parents. Now yer back here, lookin’ like a... a square, doin’ a complete one-eighty an’ shackin’ back up with them again. Th’ hell is goin’ on?”

“For your information, Bruce,” she said, crossing her arms, “this set-up isn’t permanent. I’m only staying here until I can get back on my own feet. I assure you, I have no intention of staying with my parents.”

“Is that right?” Sniper crossed his own arms, still holding onto the brim of his hat with his fingertips.

“Yes, it is,” she answered.

“So then wot’s with th’ clothes an’ th’ haircut?”

“Mother’s idea,” she said, unconsciously bringing a hand up to twirl a lock of hair between her fingers. “But you know what? I think it’s for the best. I’m making a transition. I’m not a child anymore. I’m an adult, and I should at least look the part.”

“Bein’ an adult ain’t synonymous with lookin’ like you should be on th’ Brady Bunch,” said Sniper.

“Right, and you’re such a shining example of personal responsibility,” she shot back.

Sniper scoffed at her. “And you are?”

“I’m going to be!” she said, sounding a little too defensive. “Like I said, I’m making a change. I’m distancing myself from you. You’ve been a bad influence on me from the start, and maybe if I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have been living like a hippie for so long.”

“Wot?” Sniper’s head reeled back slightly. “Are you kidding me? You told me that’s how you wanted t’ live! So somehow it’s my fault that I obliged?”

“No it’s…” she stopped, her hands suspended in the air in front of her, as if ready to try and grab the right way to say this as it drifted in front of her like a lazy fly. “No. The problem isn’t what you did for me. Yes, you did everything I wanted. But what I wanted was wrong and it’s not what I want now. I’ve changed, Bruce. I think you knew I was changing, that I wasn’t happy.”

Sniper couldn’t say anything to that. He felt the hole that’d been ripped in his chest open up again, just enough to hurt. He put his hand over his mouth to conceal the pained grimace on his lips.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I did it the way I did because… I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to try to win me back.”

Don’t delude yourself, he thought. He took his hand away from his mouth as he noticed a next door neighbor peering at them through her window. “Jesus, why didn’t we go inside?” he murmured.

“Because my mother’s inside and I didn’t think you’d appreciate her eavesdropping.”

“Yeah, it’s so much better if some random stickybeak listens in,” Sniper said, emphasizing his sarcasm. “An’ besides, I ain’t interested in ‘winning you back’ or wotever. If you wanna split, that’s fine with me. Ain’t like that’s not th’ first time this has happened t’ me, I’m used to it!”

“So then what’s the problem then?”

“Don’t play dumb,” said Sniper. His eyes darted towards the windows of Samantha’s parent’s house, noticing River was watching. “I think you know exactly what the problem is. It’s my son.”

“Your son?” Samantha asked, giving him an incredulous look. “What, so he’s yours now?”

“Our son,” Sniper corrected himself, trying to mask his growing agitation. “Ours. As in, both of ours. Not just yours.I don’t know how you could think you could just up an’ leave with our son an’ not expect me t’ be angry about it… An’ you left th’ dog there alone! What if I’d gotten held up?”

“I thought you’d want to keep her, and I knew you’d be back soon,” said Samantha. “Besides, she always liked you best.”

“That’s not true, she likes River best,” said Sniper. “But I didn’t come here t’ talk about th’ dog, I came t’ talk about River.”

Samantha pouted, and started playing with her hair again. “It took you more than a week to come up here,” she noted.

“I thought I’d give you some time t’ cool off,” said Sniper. “You left ‘cos you needed space, right? I gave it to you.”

“Really?” she asked. “Because somehow I doubt you were just sitting around with your thumb up your ass waiting for enough time to give me. Did Tavish try and cheer you up? Is that why you burnt down our home? Because I would bet a hundred dollars that was his idea.”

Sniper winced. “It… yeah, it kind of wos.”

“I knew it!” she said, reveling in her tiny triumph. “And something tells me that whole week he was still ‘cheering you up,’ wasn’t he? I bet the two of you spent all that time just completely shitfaced, am I right again?”

“No, actually,” said Sniper. “I mean, I spent pretty much th’ whole time with Tav, but we went t’ New York t’ help out a mutual friend a’ ours.”

“You expect me to believe that?” she asked, jutting out her hip as she rested a hand on it.

“I don’t care if you believe me, honestly,” he said. “Me mate wos in a bad way, an’ I wos there for him. So, yer right, I wasn’t just sittin’ around me thumb up me arse. I wos helpin’ somebody. So there.” He crossed his arms again, and looked at her as though daring her to dismiss it.

“That took you an entire week?” she asked. “And you were helping this friend of yours the entire time?”

“I really don’t think it’s any of yer business wot else I might’ve been doin’,” Sniper retorted. He briefly thought back to that bird at the club. “Yer not me mum.”

“No, I’m sure you’d be a lot more open with her, wouldn’t you?” she asked.

“Wot th’ hell’s that supposed to mean?” Sniper gave her a bemused look.

“I talked with your parents for the first time,” she said, crossing her arms. “I found out about what you did for a living before we met.”

Sniper went rigid. “W-wot?” he sputtered. “When was this?”

“Shortly after I came back here,” she said. “You’re not the only one who can track down people, you know. Also you left their number by the bed.”

“Why were you callin’ me folks after you left me?” Sniper’s face was turning bright red. “Wot could you possibly hope t’ gain stickin’ yer nose in me parent’s business?”

“I wanted to find out what you’d did before we met,” she said. “So I did. And you know, after what your father told me, I don’t think I want you to be around River.”

The invisible hole in Snipers chest now felt worse than a sucking chest wound, the kind he’d endured more than once at that aforementioned job. “… Wot? No, please… Moon… Samantha, it’s not like that…”

“Then what is it like?” she hissed. “Because it sure sounds like you killed people for money. What was it your dad called you? A ‘crazed gunman’?”

“I wos an assassin,” said Sniper weakly, casting quick sideward glances. There wasn’t anybody on the street, the view across the street was blocked by his van, but that nosey neighbor lady was still catching quick glimpses of their argument. Sniper shot her a threatening glare, causing her to fumble with her curtains as she hid behind it. “But that’s not wot I do anymore, an’ you’d have t’ be out of yer bloody gourd t’ think I’d ever let River know anything about that.”

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d actually tell him,” she said. “But I don’t think I’m comfortable with the idea of his murderous father hanging around him. I don’t think I’m comfortable with knowing that I’d been in love with…” She brought a partially-closed fist to her mouth, trying to keep herself from choking our a sob, or perhaps throwing up. She didn’t finish, and just shook her head.

“I’m not a murderer, Sam,” he started.

“Don’t call me Sam,” she spat back at him.

“I’m not a murderer, Samantha,” he said, his voice low and vaguely threatening. “All right? None of anybody I killed was ever innocent. It wos a job,, I wasn’t bloody well goin’ around an’ pickin’ off Sunday drivers on th’ freeway like some maniac. I had standards. I have standards. Me dad never understood that, so he’d go an’ embellish it t’ hell t’ make me look bad because he never loved me!” Sniper realized what he had just said, and tried to explain as Samantha looked at him with the expression of someone who just walked in on their best friend disposing of a corpse.

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe he didn’t need to embellish is because you were assassinating people?” she asked.

“That’s… that’s not..”

“Did it?”

“Look!” Sniper raised his voice, causing Samantha to flinch. He sighed, and removed his aviators to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “He… me an’ me dad, we were never close. He wos always disappointed in me. Always critisizin’ me, always sayin’ how he wished I wosn’t his son… an’ when I took that job he used it against me. I just… I don’t want t’ be an absent father t’ River. I want t’ be there t’ support him an’ be th’ kind of dad t’ him that I never got t’ have. An’ if yer gonna make it so that I can’t see him… then I’ll have failed him. Don’t you see that? I want t’ be there for him so that maybe he won’t[/t] turn into a fuck up like…” he bowed his head. “Like me.”

He looked up to assess Samantha’s reception of the baring of his soul, and received only an expression of barely suppressed horror and disgust, as though she were looking at a reanimated cadaver and not her ex-boyfriend. “I… no,” she said, shaking her head. “Bruce… I can’t… I just [i]can’t…” She turned away from him, still shaking her head. “Please don’t make this harder for me. Maybe… maybe if you don’t want River to end up like you, you should just… leave.”

No backstab from a Spy could have been anywhere near as painful as that. Just leave. He took several deep breaths, and put his akubra and aviators back on. “All right,” he said, nodding. “If that’s what you really want… I’ll go.”

Samantha turned around to face him again, but couldn’t bear to keep eye contact. She said nothing.

“Can you do me a favor, though?” he asked. “I… I’d like t’ talk with him. Y’know… before I…”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, her head bobbing up and down with the frantic energy of a bobblehead doll. “You can talk with him. I’ll send him out…”

She turned and went back to the house, not even looking back. Sniper leaned against the camper van, clutching his shirt over his heart. He was almost amazed that it was still beating, still ticking away like a faithful pocketwatch. It felt as though it shouldn’t be.

“Daddy?” Sniper looked up to see River coming towards him, still clutching onto Maddie’s collar as the approached. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” said Sniper. He crouched down to meet his son at eye level. “Don’t you go worryin’ about me.”

“Mommy said you’re gonna go away,” said River. “Are you? Are you really going away?”

“Yeah,” he said, trying to keep a brave face. Stiff upper lip, his mother had told him when he was a boy. He tried to keep that mantra repeating in his head. “Yeah, I’m afraid so, kiddo.”

“Where are you gonna go?” River asked.

“I don’t know yet,” said Sniper.

“Will you come back?”

Sniper hesitated. “I hope so,” he said. “Maybe someday. But probably not for a long time.”

“How long?” River asked. He hugged Maddie’s neck. “A month?”

“Probably a lot longer than that,” Sniper said dolefully. “But hopefully not forever. Yer mum doesn’t much like me anymore. She doesn’t want me around.”

“Did you do something bad?”

Sniper gave a stiff nod. “Y-yeah,” he said. “I suppose you could say that.”

“What was it?”

“I might tell you when yer older,” he said. “I’m sorry, River.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “You should say sorry to Mommy. If you say sorry to someone when you did something bad, it makes it better.”

“… I’m afraid it’s not that simple, kiddo,” said Sniper, putting a hand on River’s shoulder. “I wish it were. I’d say sorry a million times if I could… but that’s not gonna be enough fer me.”

“Please don’t go.” River’s round brown eyes started to well up with tears. “I don’t want you to go away forever. Please.” His mouth curved into a tight frown, and his lip quivered as he tried to keep it closed.

“Oh, River,” Sniper took the boy into his arms and hugged him tight as the boy started to sob into Sniper’s shirt. Sniper recalled what Engineer had said regarding any possible kidnapping attempts, and right now the urge to just scoop River up off his feet and whisk him away was overwhelming. “I wish I didn’t have to.” He then remembered the scrap of that phonebook page he’d torn out, and got an idea. “Hey, River?”

“Yeah?” the boy answered, giving a wet sniffle.

Sniper broke the hug to pull out the phonebook page from his vest pocket, along with his pen. He found a blank spot on the edge of the page, and wrote down a phone number. River peered at the paper curiously, and Sniper ripped the edge of the page off, giving River the number. “You can read that, right?”

“Yeah,” said River nodding.

“Read it back t’ me,” said Sniper. The boy rattled off the numbers with no small amount of pride.

“Clever boy,” he said. “That’s Uncle Tav’s number. Don’t let yer mum find it. When you move, you call Uncle Tav an’ tell ‘im yer address. I’ll write to you.”

“You will?” asked River.

“Yeah,” he said. “We’ll try an’ figure out how I can call without yer mum knowin’… I’ll send you money for yer birthday an’ Christmas. Just promise me you won’t ferget about yer ole’ dad, okay?”

“I promise,” said River. He made an “X” over his chest. “Cross my heart an’ hope to die.”

“Good boy,” said Sniper. He removed his akubra from his head and placed it on River’s head. “Here. You can keep this. It’s yours now. This hat belonged t’ me dad an’ me granddad before him.”

“Really?” River’s eyes grew wide as he touched the brim.

“Really really,” said Sniper. “So, while I’m gone, you can have that hat an’ you can think of me, an’ you’ll know that I’ll be thinkin’ about you. Always.”

River beamed bright enough to illuminate a room, and Sniper stood to his feet. River’s smile wavered. “Are you gonna leave now?” he asked.

“I think so, yeah,” he said. “I probably shouldn’t stick around much longer.”

“Is Maddie going away with you?” River asked.

Sniper looked down at the dog, who was now meeting his gaze with a tilted head and a cautious tail wag.

“Doesn’t seem right that a boy shouldn’t grow up with his dog,” he said. “What do you think, Maddie? You think you can keep an eye out for ‘im?”

Maddie stood up and approached Sniper, her tail wagging. He bent down to pet her but she jumped up on him, licking his face. River gave a laugh as Sniper gave playful groans in disgust. She sat back down. “Good girl,” said Sniper, scratching behind her ears. “Stay.”

He opened the van door, bringing out Maddie’s rarely used collar and leash, as well as her food bowl. “You can take good care of her, right?”

River nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good,” said Sniper, handing him Maddie’s things. The best thing to do would have just to have taken the dog with him, but somehow, it didn’t feel like the right thing to do. The dog belonged with the boy; a boy needs a best friend who won’t leave him. Maddie could be there for River in a way he couldn’t, as much as it pained him to get rid of that dog. “You’re gonna need her more than I will.”

“When will we see each other again?” River asked.

Sniper pursed his lips, trying to think of an answer. “I don’t know,” said Sniper. “I can’t say when it’ll be. But I promise we’ll see each other again. All right?”

“All right,” said River. He wrapped his short arms around Sniper’s legs, barely reaching his father’s waist. “I love you, daddy.”

Sniper lifted the boy from under his armpits, and picked him up to give him a squeeze and a kiss on the forehead. “I love you too,” he said. “You be good now.”

“I will,” the boy said solemnly. Sniper set him back down on the ground, and walked around his van, climbing in the passenger door and turning the ignition. The van rumbled to life, and Sniper waved one last time at his son. The boy hugged Maddie’s neck as he watched Sniper go. Sniper watched him grow smaller and smaller in his side mirror, until it became too painful to look at. He needed to get out of this town, go as far away as possible. He’d managed to drive about five miles away from the suburb before the tears stinging at his eyes made it too hard to drive and he had to pull over and park. He crossed his arms and leaned on the wheel, his head bowed down so that no one could see him sobbing. Hot tears dribbled from his eyes and down his nose, dripping down onto his pants legs. His whole body was wracked with choked sobs and shudders. He’d never cried like this, not once in his life. He pounded a fist onto the dash board in some misplaced frustration, rattling the knick-knacks he’d had sitting on there for years, and then let out a hoarse cry as he gripped the steering will, throttling it as though it were the cars throat, uselessly trying to strangle it. This did nothing, and he went limp, starring at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how long he sat in his car on the side of the road. It felt like an hour, though it was probably closer to 15 minutes. He wiped away at the half-dry tears with his arm, and sniffed. Finally, he was calm enough to start the van back up again and make his way back home, headed south, and as far away from this town as he could possibly go.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Engineer was woken up when he heard somebody moving dishes around in the kitchen. He sat up, eyes half-lidded, and stepped into his slippers. It was probably Pyro, he thought. He shuffled out of his bedroom and down to the kitchen, just about ready to poke his head in and tell Pyro to keep it down when his eyes adjusted to the light in the kitchen and he saw Spy standing in front of his refrigerator, pondering its contents.

“Spy?” Engineer asked, attempting to confirm whether or not this was actually Spy and not some sort of lucid dream.

Spy turned to look to Engineer, and smiled. “Oh, zhere you are,” he said, as though he were surprised to find Engineer in his own house. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Engineer turned his head to look at the clock on the wall. “It’s two in th’ darn mornin’.”

“Désolé, Laborer,” said Spy, closing the fridge door, not able to find anything to his liking. “I am a very busy man, and needing to be many different places at once, it is… difficult for me to squeeze you into my schedule at a reasonable hour. So I opted for as soon as I possibly could.”

Engineer blinked, and said nothing.

“I heard about your little altercation wiz Soldier’s brother,” Spy started, turning his attention to the kitchen cabinets.

“Did you now?” Engineer asked, feeling far too groggy to object to Spy’s nosiness.

“Yes,” said Spy. “It seems you gave him quite ze rebuke.”

“He did mention that you’d visited him before,” said Engineer, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “He said you were tryin’ t’ blackmail ‘im.”

“I didn’t just ‘try,’ I succeeded,” said Spy. “He became desperate and he did somezing extraordinarily stupid. I am sorry if I caused you any trouble, Engineer. I was merely trying to help.”

“While I appreciate you tryin’ t’ help, I think you might a’ made it worse,” said Engineer. “Heavy an’ I were nearly killed by that kooky mother hubbard.”

“Worse?” Spy asked, striding over to the kitchen table. “Or better?” He pulled a stack of papers from his inner vest pocket and tossed them onto the table for Engineer to see.

Engineer picked up the stack of papers and squinted as he looked them over. “These are…”

“Congratulations, you are now Soldier’s official legal guardian,” said Spy. “You’re welcome.”

“How?” Engineer asked. “I don’t understand…”

“I paid our dear friend Jonathan a little visit in ze hospital,” said Spy. “Fortunately he still had one good arm to sign ze necessary paperwork. You don’t have to worry about him trying to bozzer you again.”

“I didn’t think he would, after the whuppin’ I gave him,” Engineer said with a dry chuckle. “Thanks, Spy. Sorry about what I’d said earlier…”

“It’s fine,” said Spy. “I’m glad I could help.”

Engineer looked up to Spy, who was looking down at him as though he were expecting more. “I suppose yer wantin’ t’ know if I’ll accept that job you offered me, huh?”

“Actually, I wanted to know if you had any booze, but I suppose zat would be lovely, too.” Spy gave a sardonic little smirk.

“I’ve got some beer in th’ fridge,” said Engineer.

Spy gave a dramatic sigh. “If I wanted zat, I would have taken it. Really, I should get you some better liquor so zat we might share it sometime.”

“You really shouldn’t be goin’ through my stuff like that,” said Engineer. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?”

“I cannot say she did,” said Spy. He went to the sink with his empty glass and turned on the faucet. “So, have you given my offer any zhought?”

Engineer sighed. “Well… I suppose with more mouths t’ feed now an’ Rosie goin’ t’ college next year… I’m probably going to need some extra money. I mean… I also need t’ git Soldier an’ Pyro some treatment for their… y’know, mental problems. That sort a’ thing don’t come cheap.”

“We could offer you insurance to help pay for zat,” said Spy. “Flexible hours, your own workspace, ze opportunity to pioneer new technologies wiz an elite team RED has assembled zhemselves…” Spy’s glass was filled, and he gulped down the water with gusto, finishing it off and placing his empty glass back in the sink. “Your talent is being wasted just tinkering in your garage, my friend. You deserved better zen working as a mercenary for RED. Now you have ze opportunity to get ze respect you so richly deserve.”

Engineer didn’t answer right away. It sounded far too good to be true. “If I do this,” he asked, “do you think… do you think you could somehow look into a way to help get rid of Pyro’s debts?”

“Pyro is indebted almost entirely to Mann Co.,” said Spy, coming back towards the table. “I am sure if I pulled ze right strings, I am sure we could work somezing out… perhaps a way to pay zem off wizzout interest? I’m not sure if we could get such debts completely forgiven.”

“That’s fine, that’s fine… I jus’ don’t wanna hafta worry about Pyro bein’ thrown in jail fer not bein’ able t’ pay it off,” said Engineer. “Anything you might be able t’ do would be great.”

“Zink nozzing of it,” said Spy waving a hand dismissively. “So, you are officially accepting my offer, zen?”

“Well,” said Engineer, “I think before I accept I wanna know where I’m gonna be, what I’m gonna be workin’ on, who I’m workin’ with… all a’ that. That wouldn’t be too much trouble, would it?”

“I can give you a brief tour of ze facility, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you what you’d be working on until you have accepted our offer,” said Spy. “But if it would help seal ze deal, I would be more zen willing to show you around. When is good for you?”

“Well,” said Engineer, “I’m probably not as busy as you are.”

“Zat is true,” said Spy, who looked to the watch on his wrist, tapping a button a few times. “Hmmm… how does Wednesday sound for you?”

“What time?”

“I have an opening at zhree-zhirty,” said Spy. “Is zat acceptable.”

“That’s fine,” said Engineer. “Where is this place, where should I-”

“Don’t worry,” said Spy, “I’ll pick you up.” He pressed another button on his watch. “It’s been a pleasure, Laborer. You can go back to bed now.”

“Thanks…” Engineer said absentmindedly, watching as Spy walked out the front door. The screen door closed after Spy, and Engineer got up from the kitchen table and plodded to the front door. He peered out the screen door, past the cloud of moths fluttering against the mesh and looked for Spy, who disappeared into the darkness. Engineer heaved a sigh and shook his head, turning off the lights in the kitchen as he went back to bed.

screams.

Life... life is good. I am happy. This is golden.

Shit, at the end of that first part "Farewell" by Apocalyptica started playing. Fuuuuuuuck I literally cried. C-R-I-E-D.

Oh Jesus this is good stuff. This fic is like crack - I can never get enough of it. Glorious. :D

You rule CB - keep it up!

I got a little misty eyed there at the end of Sniper's part...sigh.

Whoops, there they go again... Yup, those are definitely my feels, going absolutely bonkers.
Thanks for the wonderful update, Cat.

Oh god sniper

Sniper why

samantha stop no

Ow, my heart.

Okay seriously, this put me on the verge of tears. I want to hug sniper so god damn bad and give him his son back and and film there reunion and take them out for sundays THIS FANFICTION GIVES ME ALOT OF FEELINGS OKAY CAT

Cat, I know. I meant, finding someone to deal with it. It's almost as if it would be better for her to do it, as I doubt she has any illusions as to what Medic or Demoman were doing at all those bases. Then again, TF2 world seems to almost not care so much about such testosterone-laden activities, so forget I said anything.

god, sniper's part had me crying.

I honestly thought I wouldn't care too much about snipers part, but I babbled like a baby. And I can't really blame it on anyone in the story, so I just have myself to bibble on to.
You keep hurting me cat. My feels are broken on the floor and I'm scrambling around to pick them up.
HRMBRMHBMBMBMRMBMMMMMMMM

I can confidently say I have never started crying over a fanfiction, and I don't even know why. But this time... God, Sniper's story is just having me in tears. I want there to be a happy ending, but with writing so well as this, I don't even know if anything'll be better!

I was doing so well holding it together but then the part with the akubra happened and I totally lost it.

I never cried so hard for a fanfic.

this was a GREAT update, cat.
loved all of it!

Gah, poor Sniper.... that was pretty heart-wrenching.

Story is great as usual, just thought I'd point out that I'm not sure if there were minivans available when the story takes place, though I admit I'm not sure of the year but it seems like the story takes place in the 70's and I'm pretty sure that minivans weren't around until the late 80's. Perhaps you meant station wagons? They seem to fit better with the time period.

Keep up the good work. Polite sage to avoid bumping.

>>97

Thanks.

I'll fix that when I upload it onto Dotchan.com.

I knew I should have checked that.

Samantha Mayfield, eh? Any particular reason for that last name?

Oops I cried over fanfiction. The Sniper bit hit me right in the feel zone.