Hello, loverlies. I am taking a break from my other stories to expand on my newest obsession: Team Fortress 2. So here's a one-shot about Medic and his wife. Let me know what you think. Maybe I'll make this into a story, not sure yet...
Love and Loss
Medic laid down on the stretcher in his infirmary. He had finished healing everybody's battle wounds from today's stalemate, with Scout being the last one to be healed. The boy had sustained a fracture in his wrist from the Blu Scout's baseball bat. All he had to do was slap a brace on it and prescribe some painkillers while the boy rambled on about his personal wins agains Blu. Once Scout was taken care of, Medic locked the door behind him to have some peace and quiet.
As Medic lay on the stretcher, where he spent most nights, he stared up at the high ceiling. The various blood covered weapons surrounding him didn't faze him at all. He was used to being around death and destruction-things he usually caused himself. But he wasn't always like that.
He turned to his side, taking his glasses off and setting them on the table with his medigun.
He could remember a time, albeit memories very faded, when he was a good man. Of course it might have been the good woman that brought that out in him.
He could imagine her gentle touch caressing his face as she often did when he was around her. Medic dreamed of that woman every night.
They had met in Stuttgart, Germany where he had worked as a doctor before he knew of Tuefort. She was one of his patients in the emergency room. For him it had been a normal day, for her not so much.
At the time he didn't know she was a rouge British spy for MI6, working on taking down a personal vendetta. She had gotten into a firefight with some very bad men, who were too careless to assure of her death once she had fallen. He healed her gun shot wounds, and took to the girl.
He had to induce her into a coma to perform the surgery. That he remembered clearly, and once she was stable, he was supposed to stop it. But every night he would enter her hospital room, sit in the chair next to her bed and talk to her in German about his personal thoughts about his work. She had become a great stress reliever and didn't have to say a word.
The coma had to come to an end when a nurse caught him injecting her with drugs. Since then he was kept under a watchful eye, and she soon awoke.
Communication was hard at first, as she didn't understand German, and he spoke very broken English. But they knew what each other meant. Once her memory had returned, she had to leave to finish what she had started. He knew he couldn't live without her, so in a fit of insanity, he removed a patient's skeleton. This caused him to lose his medical license, and out of sympathy, the girl has allowed him to tag along with her.
They had formed a weird team. She was the gunslinging, shoot first, ask questions later type of girl. He was her healer, her "guardian angel" as she had called him multiple times. At one point, she had been poisoned and on the brink of death, yet again. Once he saved her, they hijacked the Prime Minister's wedding and had gotten married themselves.
Soon the good times had to come to an end. He was shot while she was trying to end the vendetta between her and the "bad guy." She had to choose between saving him, or killing her father's murderer. Of course she chose to save him...
This put a divide in their relationship. She felt she couldn't rest easy at night knowing she was putting him in danger. He woke up one morning to find a letter explaining why she had to leave. She stated she would always love him, but she needed to protect him, so leaving seemed to be her only option.
The memory of the pain of finding that letter filled his chest. It made his heart sink into his stomach, and he could feel a fit of anger burning in his fingertips, causing him to clench the fabric of the stretcher.
God, he missed her. He missed her so much.
He sat up and his eyes drifted to the phone sitting on his desk. He stood up and made his way to the red device. His strong fingers dialed the number he had promised himself he would never dial again.
The phone rang three times.
"'Ello?" A British accent asked.
Medic closed his eyes.