RED Team Base - Badlands, New Mexico. Wednesday, March 14th, 1973
"I don't know about this…" He stuffed his bear pelt ushanka onto his shelf and took out his sandwich he had packed for dinner.
"Aw, come on, it'll be fine! Besides, it's for medicine," Medic reasoned.
He raised an eyebrow at the man. "You want to research on me?"
A crazed look came into his eyes. "Why wouldn't I?" An overly-enthusiastic grin followed.
Heavy let out an uneasy chuckle, watching the shift in his friend's demeanor. "You are funny," he murmured.
"I'm not joking."
"Thank you but no."
"Oh, don't be such a baby. It's just an experiment!" he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I won't be long."
Heavy took a bite of his sandwich and quietly chewed.
Medic's smile faltered for a moment. "Come on, Misha, please? Friends are supposed to help each other."
He finished his bite and sighed. "You did protect me from sentry gun…"
Medic's grin somehow managed to show even more teeth. Heavy almost wondered if his friend's eyes would pop out of his skull. "So you'll do it, then?"
Heavy hesitated before saying, "Da."
"Excellent!" Using his arm to guide him, he eagerly yanked him around to face the other end of the white-walled hallway. It lead to a set of pale green double doors with wire inset in the round windows and a small sign below that said Emergency, along with a red medical cross on the door. Where it said Care was scratched out.
Heavy glanced down at his hand, longingly staring at his dinner. "What about sandwich?"
"Later." He gave him a moment to put his sandwich back on his shelf, which he reluctantly did, before grabbing him by the hand and nearly dragging him to the room. "Right this way!" Heavy followed uneasily, glancing at the walls and floor on his way. He noticed a blood splatter at the floorboard, along with a few smudges to show that someone had made a poor effort to clean it up. Judging by how far they were into their base, it couldn't have been from an enemy. Human enemies were also becoming increasingly rare to encounter.
Medic pried the door open to reveal the operating room, primarily lit by the bright light over the operating table in the middle of the room. The other lights seemed dim by comparison. Other than the operating table, his equipment consisted of the Quick Fix mounted on the ceiling, a fridge containing an array of questionable supplies, a heart rate monitor, and a nearby tray of scary looking tools. The Quick Fix was a prototype to the current Medi Gun he used on the field, but it still seemed to serve its purpose well enough to be kept in the lab.
Heavy frowned when he saw the blood on the tray and the matching bloodied handprint on the fridge door handle.
"All right. Well, if you'd just lie down on the table for me, I can begin."
He gulped yet did as he was told.
"Wunderbar." Medic flashed him a smile and began to rifle through his tray of tools. After a moment, he withdrew a syringe, one that matched one of the ones he would load his syringe gun with. "Ah, this should work."
"Is that poison?"
"Uh… nein. It's a sedative." He flipped a switch to turn on the heart rate monitor sitting behind the operating table. A grin tugged at his lips. "Why, do you want to be awake for this?"
Heavy gulped. Recalling the Übercharge heart implant sent a chill down his spine. Considering he had snapped his own rib when assisting in his operation, he had no desire to be involved in whatever the Medic had in mind for the current procedure. Heavy would occasionally touch his side and feel that the rib, although it had started growing back, was hardly the same as before. Realizing Medic was waiting for an answer, he finally said, "No."
Almost too readily, he turned Heavy's arm to expose the inner side of his forearm and stabbed a needle attached to a drip I.V. into it, then proceeded to inject the drug into the tube.
Heavy's eyes closed after a few seconds, then he got to work. He started by turning on the Quick Fix set up above the table. "Ah, there we go. Now, let's see here…" Medic said to himself, examining his subject as he debated where he would begin his experiment. He drew his bonesaw and sawed Heavy's chest down the breastbone, exposing the internal organs. He watched with a sickening fascination as the heart pumped blood, as the lungs expanded and fell, and as all the organs functioned in perfect order to keep Heavy alive.
"Hmm… Where to begin…" he mumbled, stroking his chin. Medic looked to Archimedes, sitting atop the monitor. "What do you think?"
Archimedes cocked his head to the side.
"Don't give me that."
He cooed.
He glanced down at the unusually large baboon heart with the Übercharge module attached to it, lightly brushing it with his hand. Medic laughed. Turning to Archimedes, he said, "He still has no idea." Sobering up, he said to himself, "The heart seems to still be working well. Wunderbar; we can move on with the procedure, then."
The dove leaped off of the machine onto Heavy's chest, peering at the organs and bending his thin legs as if preparing to jump.
"Archimedes," he warned. "We've been over this."
The bird stayed still. Medic offered a finger as a perch, which his bird stepped onto. He placed Archimedes on his shoulder and returned his attention to Heavy.
"Creating the perfect soldier... That would get me some recognition, right? Apparently inventing the Medi Gun and bringing a man back to life wasn't enough." Archimedes cooed, seemingly agreeing with him. "Now, let's see what I can do here..."
Medic wiped his brow, accidentally smearing the drops of blood on his hand across his forehead. "Now how am I going to do this? Hmm… What if I replaced his blood with that concoction? That would make him invincible for an indefinite length of time, ja?" A maniacal grin spread across his lips. "Yes, that's it." He pivoted and went to the storage shelves near the back of the room, letting out a laugh of triumph. "Of course! It's perfect!"
After rummaging through the crates of supplies, he found his backup supply of Medi Gun solution. He always kept a few portions of it stored in their proper metal canisters, ready to be loaded into his backpack should the team be faced with a supply shortage. He took a full crate of them and set the wooden box down beside the operating table. Medic found a bucket and got to work, sawing off the tops with his bonesaw and emptying the miracle mixture into it. Once he had gathered what looked to be about seven and a half litres, enough to do the job, he took another bucket and set it beside Heavy. He took a needle attached to a hose and began to drain his blood into the other bucket to make room for its replacement. He then healed the gaping hole in the man's chest, watching with glee as the skin and tissues repaired themselves like magic. For good measure, he redirected the ceiling-mounted Quick Fix to focus on his head to prevent brain damage in the event that something should go wrong.
Medic let out a contented sigh. "See, Archimedes? I can make gods out of men." He watched as the heart rate monitor slowed, his smile growing with every delayed beep that rang through the room. "Just wait until they see this. There will be no stopping us now." His dove flew to sit atop the I.V. stand, watching patiently.
Once Heavy's blood drained from his body, Medic began replacing the missing fluid. The line on the screen sat flat, but it didn't concern him; he'd dealt with worse before. To pass the time as he waited for the liquid to fill his subject's body, he spent the time playing with Archimedes.
Eventually, it was done. "There we go. Now we wake him up." Medic detached the I.V. from Heavy's arm; it couldn't have been any good to him now that his blood was removed. He released an Übercharge from the Quick Fix then stood by the table, waiting to see the rise and fall of his chest.
Nothing.
Medic frowned. "Misha?" Archimedes cooed, but Heavy remained pale and motionless. He took Heavy's hand, feeling the bone chilling temperature he recognized as death. "Nein, that doesn't make sense..." He held his hand tighter. "Heavy, if you don't wake up, I'm going to eat your sandwich." Still, the room was silent.
"Scheisse." He sank to the floor, feeling an odd hollow sensation in his chest. "I've gone and wasted all of my Übercharge solution." He realized he was still holding Heavy's hand, yet he didn't let go. Instead, he held his knees to his chest with his other arm. He let out a weary sigh. "Archimedes, what am I supposed to do now?"
The dove cooed, drawing his attention.
"No no, there has to be a way to make this work." He heard another coo. "Ja, I'm going to fix this!" Archimedes cooed once more. "Why? Because! I-" Medic paused, shifting his attention to the floor. He wasn't sure of what he was feeling. He figured it was disappointment. After wasting precious resources to only be met with failure, feeling let down was only natural. Now that he had used his entire supply on Heavy, he would be out of it until a new shipment came. Even if he ordered more, he couldn't ensure they'd have it when they'd need it most. Medic had no idea how he'd explain the predicament to the team, or how they'd fare without Heavy and himself backing them. Without his Medi Gun, he could do little to help win the fight.
He paled. It would only be a matter of time before Soldier and Zhanna would find out what happened to Heavy. Two sounds came to mind: Huttah! followed by a crunch. Those would be the last things he would hear before she and Soldier would snap his neck. Soldier would probably cut off his ears and add them to the necklace he had been working on for his fiance. The size of the collection was disgusting enough without another set to add to it. Medic shuddered, adding fear to his mental list of emotions he was feeling at that moment.
He had killed numerous times, assisted in many more, and performed more than his share of ungodly experiments in the name of medicine, and still slept well at night. Nothing was different this time. Unless it was. Guilt: it had to be the reason for the sinking feeling in his gut. Medic lightly tapped his fingers on his knee, trying to name the other things he was feeling along with guilt. He figured it was sadness, considering he and Heavy were close friends. He didn't know how he'd get through the next battle or ambush without him. They were the perfect pair, a deadly duo, but now it was just him. Healing the other members of his team was one thing, but supporting Heavy was somehow different. It had to be why he felt so terrible.
Other than the sting of failure, guilt, sadness, and fear, there was still something else there. There was a deeper pain, a sense of loss that went beyond simply losing a friend and knowing it was his fault.
"What are these feelings here for? To hinder my progress?" he complained to Archimedes. Medic looked at Heavy's hand, which he was still holding. "It was a failed experiment, that's all."
Archimedes glided down to sit on the floor in front of him. He stared, cocking his head to the side and waiting, as if expecting an explanation.
"What?"
The bird still waited.
"What do you want?" Medic asked again, this time with more of an edge in his voice.
Archimedes cooed.
He felt his cheeks grow warm. "What? No, I don't feel that way about him," he rattled off. His dove's seemingly unwavering stare was almost seeing right into his soul. "Stop looking at me like that!"
Despite his complaint, Archimedes only continued to wait.
Medic sighed. "Ja, maybe I do." He released his legs and ran a hand through his hair. "But that doesn't matter anymore. He's dead." He stood, daring to look at the mess he had created. "And I wasted my Medi Gun fluid, too…" He carefully laid Heavy's hand down beside him on the table. He took one last look at his face, wishing he would open his eyes; wishing it was only a cruel joke.
He shook his head and dragged himself out of the room, sitting on one of the chairs in the hall. Medic propped his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his palms. He let himself drift off in thought as he tried to sort his feelings and how he'd break the news to the team and Heavy's family.
A few minutes into his silent reflection, a voice said, "Hey, Doc?"
He looked up, seeing Scout standing to the side, clutching his arm. "What?"
"You got a minute?"
Medic let out a weary sigh. "Ja. What did you do this time?"
"Think I broke my arm fightin' off that last horde of Australium hunting robots. I thought you were busy or somethin', so I waited until after dinner to come."
"I was, but I'm not anymore."
Scout laughed nervously. "Yeah, so, you'll fix me up?"
"Yes, yes, follow me."
He went to the resupply room, the younger man following at his heels. Surprisingly, he didn't speak for the entire walk. In light of his current mood, it was a relief to not have to manage Scout's antics.
It wasn't until he got to the cubbies that Scout spoke. "You feelin' all right there, Doc?"
"Ja," he replied sharply.
"Uh, that doesn't sound too all right."
Medic retrieved his Medi Gun. "Do you want the help or not?"
"Hey, sorry." He held his hands up in surrender, only to cry out in pain a second later, returning to holding his arm.
He sighed. "Dummkopf," he muttered under his breath. He strapped the backpack component on, turned to face Scout, and pressed the lever, releasing the red, magic-like beam. A moment later, Scout let go of his arm. His grin returned, along with the usual gleam in his eyes.
"Thanks, Doc."
Medic shrugged, slipping the pack off of his shoulders.
"So, what's botherin' you?"
He groaned, shoving his tool onto the shelf.
"Hey, no need to get all pissy about it."
"Scout, shut up."
"Eh, I'll pass."
Medic let out a frustrated groan. "Leave me alone, schweinehunde!"
"Come on, man, talk to me."
"There is nothing to talk about." He walked past him, heading back down the hall toward his operating room.
"Uh, yeah there is."
Medic stopped, pivoting to face him. Getting close to his face, he said, "I'm dying to hear your guess."
"You, uh…" Scout began, taking a step back, "lost Archimedes?" He forced a smile, likely to bring himself some comfort.
"Oops, wrong answer!" he said with false enthusiasm. His expression turned sour immediately afterward. "You lose." He spun back around sharply and stomped down the hall toward the operating room.
The younger man sprinted after him. "Medic!" he called out, only to be ignored. Medic shoved the doors open then disappeared inside. Scout followed him, catching the door before it shut again. Medic was heading toward the operating table when Scout said, "I was meanin' to ask you: what's with all the blood? Didn't you clean up for dinner? By the way, we didn't see you and Heavy there. Where were you guys?"
Medic let out a weary sigh and put his hands down on the table, staring down at the blood on them. "Can't a man work in peace around here?"
He stood on his toes to get a better look at the table. "Woah, what the hell? Lard-ass got hurt?"
The doctor shot him a dirty look. "Ja, he did, all right? And don't call him that." Lowering his voice and taking another look at Heavy, he said, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."
"What happened to him?"
"None of your business," Medic dismissed, fixing his glasses.
Scout wandered further into the room, taking in his surroundings. "This place looks like a freakin' bomb went off…"
"Danke," he said dryly.
He came to his side, taking a look at Heavy. "Man, he looks like death warmed over."
Medic looked away. "Don't you have something better to do?"
Scout heard the subtle waver in his teammate's voice. He frowned slightly and stared at the man on the table. "Is he even freakin' breathing?"
At this, he stormed off, making his way to the shelves near the back. He disappeared behind a shelf, then a crash followed by the sound of shattering glass rang out. Scout rushed over, finding the other man standing in front of a fallen box of broken syringes. His brow was furrowed and his hands were balled into fists. Upon closer inspection, he saw tears trailing down his cheeks.
"Man, what's goin' on?"
Medic took a deep breath, choking back a sob. "Scout, go."
"Not until you tell me what happened to him."
Kneeling to collect the syringe shards, he said, "E-Exactly what it looks like."
"He died?"
"I killed him."
"Wait, what?"
Medic went quiet.
"You freakin' killed him?" he shrieked.
"Ja." He turned the box upright and dropped the pieces into it. "And it wasn't during the battle, so respawn won't save him."
Scout's jaw dropped. "Oh my God!"
He wiped his tears, smearing blood on his cheeks.
"Why...?"
"It was an accident; a failed experiment." He returned to cleaning up his mess. Medic laughed bitterly. "I tried to make the perfect soldier, a perfect man, but it didn't work. He's gone, and so is all of my Übercharge fluid. That's what I get for trying to play with things that don't belong to me."
"Aw, Doc, I'm sorry…"
"I don't want your sympathy. It's my mess; I'll clean it up."
Scout knelt by him and began collecting pieces of glass. "I can at least help ya with this mess."
He couldn't hide the slight smile that crept across his lips. "Danke."
"No problem, man."
The two men worked in silence, mindful of the sharp edges. A few times he would look up at Medic for a brief moment, noticing the sullen, dead look in his eyes and the sharp downward curve of his lips. Once they were finished, Scout insisted on carrying the box for him. Much to his surprise, he received no objection. Instead, Medic simply dragged himself to the operating table and sat by Heavy's head, staring down at the disaster he had created.
Once Scout took the box to the door, he returned to Medic. "You really miss him, huh?"
He nodded, lightly brushing his hand over the bandolier Heavy wore over his shoulder. Medic mumbled something under his breath and kept his head down.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Nah, that wasn't nothin'. Hey, you've already told me a lot, so what's the point in holding back now?"
He let out a weary sigh. "I've already said too much, so I may as well just get this over with." Medic stood. "I've got a story for you."
Scout rolled his eyes and sat on the floor, crossing his legs and slouching forward. He propped his elbow on his knee and let his head fall into his upturned palm.
"There once was a team of nine mercenaries, working for-"
"Boring!"
He shot the young man a sharp look before continuing. "That team was close, ja? They became like a family, trusting each other - or not - to win their battles."
Scout groaned. "Where are you going with this crap?"
"Let me finish," the doctor hissed. He cleared his throat, beginning to pace with his hands folded behind his back. "As I was saying, this team was very close. A… bit closer than they were thought to be. There may have even been… I don't know." He stopped and looked toward his listener. "Fondness?"
He stroked his chin. "So, you mean, like love and all that hippie crap Soldier keeps yellin' about?"
Caught off-guard, Medic let a small chuckle escape. "When is he not yelling?"
He smiled. "Never."
"You do have a point there. But, nein, not 'hippie crap', as you call it."
"Okay, whatever. But who?" Scout raised an eyebrow, sitting himself upright. "I mean, it couldn't have been that mumblin' freak or the shapeshiftin' rat. Not on my watch; not on no one's."
A mischievous grin spread across his lips. "I think your mother would disagree."
His face flushed. "Yeah, well, he's still not my dad," he grumbled, crossing his arms.
He laughed. "Well, I'm afraid I'm unable to confirm or deny that. Unless I run a test on the two of you."
"What the hell? No way!"
"My point exactly." Medic glanced down at Heavy, his momentary joy fading immediately.
"So, where were you goin' with this, Doc?"
He sighed, returning to Heavy's side. "It doesn't matter now."
Scout waited for a moment, watching the man with his recently deceased patient. There was a dejected look in his eyes that almost seemed out of character compared to his usual evil-looking gleam. The way Medic lightly touched his cheek along with his expression made it clear to him: that close bond he was talking about was between him and Heavy. Of how close, he couldn't be sure, but he was sure that Medic was describing himself with his story.
Scout stood. "Can you fix him?"
He looked up sharply. "Was hast du gesagt?"
"Uh… what did ya just say? I've learned a bit from listenin' to you, but…"
Medic rolled his eyes. "I asked for clarification."
"Oh, uh, yeah. I was asking if you knew how to fix lard-ass."
"I told you not to call him that."
"What? Fatcakes' gettin' offended? Yeah, sure looks like it."
Medic's voice lowered to a near growl as he reached for his bonesaw. "I wouldn't say that if I were you, dummkopf." He stared him down, fury burning in his eyes.
He smirked, clearly proud of himself. "Aw, gettin' all protective there, huh? Yeah, I get it: you like him, don't you? Thought so."
His eyes widened momentarily and he nearly dropped his jagged blade. Within seconds, he'd resumed his stern glare and retook his offensive stance. "Nein. What makes you think that?"
Scout shrugged. "Ya don't seem to care about anyone more than him. Hey, I bet you'd sooner harvest my organs before tryin' to revive me."
Medic gritted his teeth. "That's because you're obnoxious. Did you forget that I brought Sniper back from the dead?"
"Yeah, but you didn't seem that bothered by him being gone in the first place."
"I defied modern medicine!"
"So what? You told us it was an accident after ya came back. But, since you know how to do it now and you love him so much, why don't you do it again, Doc?"
Medic sighed. "I don't love him. Heavy and I were friends, but I don't 'love him'. And I don't have the right organs to revive him, and I don't think I could get them in less than twelve hours. I don't know if it would even work after then." He furrowed his brow in concentration. "Then again, it would be worth a try anyway…" He thought for a few seconds before saying, "Scout, could you go check the freezer for anything that may help?"
"Like what?" he replied, scrunching his nose.
"A blue whale pineal gland or something like that."
"You're sick, you know that?"
His usual menacing smile returned. "He has a mega baboon heart as well."
He let out a sound of disgust. "Now that's just wrong." He paled and asked, "I don't have one of those too, do I?"
"Mein Gott, no no, much smaller than that!" With a wave of his hand, Medic said, "Now go get me what I need. I'm going to start getting the Medi Gun solution out if his body."
Scout, with a shake of his head, departed to search for the requested supplies, whilst trying to keep his dinner in his stomach.
Meanwhile, Medic inserted the needle back into Heavy's arm, draining the iridescent red fluid back into the bucket it came from. He watched the bucket fill, questioning if it truly was spent or if it could be reused in the Medi Gun.
Once his task was around half completed, Scout returned with a few frozen organs in their clear bags, held by the corner far from his body.
"Will these, uh… work?"
"Well, what did you bring?"
The young man hastily dropped them onto the small metal table near the operating table. "Uh…"
Medic shook his head, sifting through the potential organs for the most suitable one. He came across a dolphin pineal gland. It may have not been a blue whale, but it seemed to offer a greater likelihood of success than the others, which were narwhal, jaguar, and chimpanzee respectively.
"This will do," he said under his breath, reaching for his scalpel.
Scout went pale.
Removing said organ from its bag, he said, "Yes, yes. Danke, Herr Scout." He then took it to a heater and began warming it up.
"No problem, Doc," he mumbled, fixated on the organ. As it thawed, the juices on it gave it a sickening gleam that held his attention captive, despite the squeamish twists he felt in his stomach.
Medic grinned at the defrosted organ, taking it in hand and sliding a large syringe into it, pulling back the plunger and drawing the fluid inside it into the glass tube. A revolting, bile-like liquid sloshed inside of it, yet the nasty fluid didn't seem to bother Medic at all. If anything, he appeared to be almost giddy at the sight of it.
"Wunderbar," he said, setting the syringe down on the side table. "Oh, good. He's almost ready to have his blood put back."
Scout's face contorted into a disgusted sneer. "Oh my God…"
The crazed doctor ignored his criticism, proceeding to return the displaced blood to Heavy's body. His smile faded momentarily as Medic looked at the man's expressionless, pale face. "Soon, mein freund," he said. After hooking up the I.V. system, he leaned against the table, his back to his patient. He drummed his fingers along the surface, which happened to be beside Heavy's knee.
"Think it'll work?" Scout asked.
"Well… We'll just have to see." Medic smiled slightly. "I've done more with less."
"Yeah, but ya seemed real worried 'bout him earlier."
He waved the comment off. "You're mistaken, Scout. I was worried about my Medi Gun having enough fluid for the next fight. I'm not worried about Heavy. Why would I be?"
"Because you like him?"
"Nein, not at all," Medic growled.
Scout rolled his eyes, propping his arm on top of the fridge. "Yeah, sure."
"I don't," he said firmly. He returned his focus to his work. Medic retrieved the syringe, tilting Heavy's head to the side to expose the underside of his neck.
Realizing what the doctor was about to do, he said 'Aw hell no' and fled the room. Medic saw Scout retreat from the corner of his eye, silently thankful for the peace and quiet. Although the young man meant well, his loud and abrasive attitude quickly became tiring for most people. With his now quiet room, Medic returned to his work. He waited patiently for the blood to finish making its way into Heavy's body before roughly jamming the needle into Heavy's neck, right where his brain stem was. He injected the foul fluid, activated the Quick Fix, and waited.
As before, nothing happened. Heavy was still, despite being somewhat less pale. Archimedes settled on the heart rate monitor, observing the procedure with great interest.
"Ugh, what am I doing wrong?" Medic complained to his dove. His bird softly cooed. "What haven't I tried?" He stared, noticing the decided lack of breath, and likely lack of pulse. "Should I…? Maybe." He shrugged. "It's worth a try, I suppose." He sat at Heavy's side, then started CPR. He counted the compressions in his mind, all while questioning if his efforts were even making a difference to a clinically dead man.
Once he had completed all thirty compressions, he watched Heavy's chest fall, not rising on its own afterward. He let out a frustrated groan, running a hand through his short hair. "I've really gone and done it now, haven't I, Archimedes?"
The bird didn't respond.
Medic looked to his companion. "Now you don't talk?" He paused for a moment. Checking over his shoulder briefly, seeing that no one was there, he put his final plan into action. "Well, if this doesn't work, I doubt anything else will."
He injected a shot of the Medi Gun fluid at the same site of his last one, along with a second one into his heart. After a moment's' hesitation, Medic pinched Heavy's nose shut, took a deep breath, then gave a breath of life that he hoped no one saw, and hoped for the best.
He administered a second breath, then waited for results. "Come on…"
A moment later, he heard a cough.
"Heavy?" he exclaimed, sitting the man up.
Heavy coughed again, splattering Medi Gun fluid onto his hand. He groaned, taking a puzzled look at it. "What… happened?"
Medic beamed. "A defiance of modern medicine!" He laughed, sounding somewhere between maniacal and cheerful.
The man wiped the Medi Gun fluid on his pant leg and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Heavy hurt a lot. Body is sore."
"It'll pass, mein freund." He couldn't hide the glee that overtook his features. "You feel all right, ja?"
He raised an eyebrow. "I… guess?"
"Wunderbar!" Medic hugged Heavy.
The man sat still, soon deciding to return the gesture. "You act like I was gone… Was I?"
He pulled back to look him in the eye. "Uh…"
Heavy frowned. "How long?"
Medic thought for a moment. "Two, three hours, maybe?"
He let go of the doctor, attempting to walk away, only to fall back against the operating table as soon as his feet met the floor.
"Careful!" Medic exclaimed, grabbing hold of his shoulders. "Recovering from this takes time!"
"What did Doctor do?" He gripped the table tightly in his large hands, refusing to look up at him.
Any trace of joy had left his face. "Misha, I'm sorry…"
"What did you do?" he hollered. He, with what little strength he had, shoved Medic's hands off of his shoulders, nearly falling down in the process of doing so.
He went to catch him, but stopped when he saw the man steady himself. "I tried to create a permanent Übercharge," he admitted, not taking his eyes off of Heavy for a second. "Heavy, I'm so sorry. I didn't think… that would happen."
"I am lab rat to you," he grumbled.
"What? Nein! Far from it!"
"I am. You think I am toy for experiments."
"That's not true!" Medic frowned. "Please, lie down. You need to rest."
Heavy scowled yet did as he was told. "Why do this?"
"Why?" He sighed, sitting at the end of the table. "If this team is going to win, we need new tools. We need to be stronger than whatever Gray Mann's men are going to throw at us next. They couldn't appreciate my genius, and it will be their end. I just…" He sighed. "Never mind. I needed to try this."
"But Heavy is not Doctor's toy."
"I know."
Heavy slowly sat himself up, using the table for support. "So why was I Doctor's toy?"
"I just thought-"
"Stop. I do not want baby answer."
"Let me finish!"
Archimedes cooed quietly.
"Shut up, you damn bird!"
Heavy looked to the heart rate monitor, where the bird remained perched. After hearing Medic scream at him, he flew away, taking refuge in the metal framework of the ceiling. The patient looked back down, seeing Medic with his head in his hands. From the part of his face he could see, the man's brow was tensed and his posture was stiff yet his body appeared to weigh more than lead.
Heavy's expression softened. "Doctor…"
"Ja?" he snapped.
"Are you okay?"
Medic waited a few seconds before answering, "No." If possible, his shoulders seemed to sink farther down. "Terrible, actually."
"Want to talk?"
Medic sighed. "I guess."
"You are sad, da?"
He nodded.
"Because experiment failed?"
"Kind of."
Heavy raised an eyebrow. "Kind of?"
"It's more than that," he said, resting his head in his hands, propped up on his knees.
"What else?"
"Heavy, I wasted all of the Übercharge fluid. I don't know if what I have is of any good to anyone now that it's been used as a blood replacement." At this, Heavy cringed. The man didn't notice, continuing to say, "If I can't heal anyone, what else am I going to do?"
Heavy smiled slightly. "Use other tools. You have saw and syringe gun. Crossbow heals too, no?"
"Hmm, that's true..."
"What else makes you sad?"
He looked over to his patient, but didn't offer an answer. Just one glance at the man was enough for Heavy to know his hunch was right: Medic was keeping something from him. Whatever it was had to be more than just his letdown about the procedure. All of the psychotic glee that normally filled his eyes was all but gone. He looked tired and beaten down, as though he were a shell of the man he used to be.
"Medic?"
Medic shook his head slightly and blinked. "Huh?"
"You are still sad."
He smiled, unable to mask the strained look that came with it. "I'm fine."
Heavy shook his head. "Doctor is hiding something."
The false smile faded. "Why would I be?"
"Why not?"
"Lie down; you're getting pale."
As before, Heavy did as he was told, this time without contempt.
Medic stood, hefting the large bucket of used Übercharge fluid onto the tray he used for his tools. He stooped to retrieve one of the empty red canisters it had come from, placing it with the bucket.
"You are not little wee baby."
"Uh, no. Of course not."
"Lies are for babies."
He thought for a brief moment before answering, "Fine, there is something else."
"Tell me."
He wedged a funnel into the container and began to pour the translucent liquid in. "I just lost a good friend. I killed him then brought him back to life, and now he hates me for it."
There was a long pause before Heavy said, "Oh."
Under his breath, Medic muttered, "Und ich liebe ihn auch."
"You do?"
He fumbled the bucket, dropping it and spilling its contents onto the floor, causing him to swear loudly. Any hope of reusing the Medi Gun solution was lost as Medic watched it trickle across the dirty white tiles toward the drain. "Sorry, what was that?" Looking down at himself, he saw the solution had splashed onto his cream-coloured lab coat. It almost resembled a persistent bloodstain, a common occurrence for him. At times such as these, Medic was thankful for the surplus of uniforms available for him to change into.
"You love me?" Heavy clarified.
"I-I didn't say that!" Medic laughed uncomfortably. "You must have misheard me." He cleared his throat, his cheeks matching his red tie.
"I know what you say, Doctor. I know more German than team."
Medic swore again under his breath, in English much to the man's surprise.
"Heavy already know. Not big surprise."
"You… did?"
He smiled. "Da."
"How?"
Heavy sat up slowly, giving his body a moment to adjust. "When I get hurt, you worry. You never worry about team."
"I worry about my birds, don't I?"
"Birds are not people."
He snorted. "So?"
"Does not count," Heavy said. "Birds are not team.
As Medic opened his mouth to object, the bald man continued, "You also missed me when team was fired."
"Of course I did. We're friends, ja?"
Heavy nodded. "But Doctor loves me."
He smiled warmly. "As a friend, dummkopf."
He frowned slightly. "Oh."
"Why, what did you think I meant by that?"
"Romantic love."
"What? N-Nein, of course not!" Laughing a bit too loudly, he added, "That must be the dolphin pineal gland talking."
Heavy's jaw dropped. Considering what he had survived thanks to Medic's intervention, he decided to not think about the other horrific things the man may have done to revive him. Quite frankly, he didn't want to know. All he needed to know was that his doctor fixed his mistake. After studying his face for a moment, considering what to say, he said with a smirk, "Then why blush?"
Touching his cheek briefly, he felt the heat, knowing his appearance was betraying him.
"Embarrassed?"
Medic shook his head, mentally kicking himself for still attempting to deny his obvious emotions. Heavy wasn't buying it, and he knew it. Yet, he still couldn't bring himself to admit to it, either.
"No need. Heavy loves Doctor, too. It is okay."
He sighed. "Gott, was it that obvious?"
Heavy offered a kind smile. "In good way." Beginning to feel woozy once more, he lay back down on the operating table.
"At least that. I'm just glad you don't hate me for killing you like that."
"Could be worse."
"Worse than death?" Medic laughed with genuine amusement. "What could be worse than that?"
Heavy shrugged. "I am alive. We are still team. Is all that matters now."
"But do you trust me, Heavy?"
Hesitating for only a second, he said, "Da."
"Very good. I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you to them, so I took fate into my own hands. If anyone was going to become indestructible, I wanted it to be you. I'm just sorry it didn't go as planned."
"I understand. We will crush cowards."
Medic grinned. "Together."
"I like this plan," Heavy said.
"So do I. We don't need a permanent Übercharge to win this. If we work together, we'll be unstoppable, ja?"
Heavy nodded, smiling with a glint of hope in his eyes.
After a moment, Heavy asked, "Are we together, Medic?"
"As a team or romantically?"
"Both."
"Uh… Both, I suppose, ja." Medic, now looking into his eyes, asked, "But can we just keep this between us?"
"We will not tell anyone?"
"No one. Please? I just don't want to risk it." Taking his hand, he said, "I do love you, so please don't take that the wrong way."
Heavy made a face and slowly took his hand back. Medic's smile fell, replaced by disappointment. Before Medic could say anything, he said, "Hand is bloody. Made it cold and gross."
He looked down at himself, chuckling at the sight of the blood and Übercharge fluid that soiled his coat and more of the blood coating his hands and sleeves. "Ah, sorry. I'll go clean up."
Getting up from his spot beside Heavy, he excused himself to the operating room's washroom. Having a private one available was always preferred when procedures got messy; fewer questions needed to be answered.
Medic stopped at the sink first, taking a look at himself in the mirror before turning on the water. He laughed when he saw himself, blood smeared on his forehead, cheeks, and dried in his black hair. Quietly to himself, he said, "Gott, I look like an axe murderer. Then again, I may as well be one after working for RED all of these years." He then washed his hands and wiped his face clean with a cloth.
Deeming himself clean enough for the moment, he wiped the counter clean and changed into a spare uniform. There was a certain charm to the crisp lines of a freshly washed lab coat and vest, different from the satisfaction of watching it get dirty as the work day drew on. Stopping at the supply cupboard to retrieve a bowl and clean cloth and filling it with some warm water, he returned to Heavy.
Heavy was looking down at the small, filthy dove nestled on his chest. Clearly he had gotten into the spilt Medi Gun solution when his owner wasn't looking. Archimedes looked very comfortable and content with his choice of spot.
"Someone has a friend," Medic said.
Heavy looked over at him, a soft smile dancing across his lips. "Little bird is happy, I am happy." As he stroked the bird's head with his finger, Archimedes nuzzled into the touch.
Medic sat the bowl down on the metal tray beside the operating table. Wringing out the cloth, he came to Heavy's side and lightly wiped at the red smudge on his cheek. He wasn't sure how the blood got on there in the first place. Thinking back to the procedure, Medic recalled touching his cheek sometime after declaring the experiment a disaster.
"Blood is on face?" Heavy asked.
"Ja," he replied, dunking the soiled fabric into the bowl. "It was quite the messy procedure."
Heavy nodded. Medic took his hand and began to clean it in a similar manner to his face.
"Thank you, Doctor," he said.
"It's the least I can do." Rinsing the cloth once more, he washed Heavy's other hand.
Heavy smiled warmly. "Much better."
"Wunderbar." He returned the cloth to the bowl and picked it up, turning to carry it away.
"Medic?"
He turned to face him. "What?"
"Could you come?"
Medic set the bowl down in the same place as before, then did as he was asked.
Heavy carefully cupped the dove in his hands, finding that the bird looked rather small in them. He shifted the bird into one hand and sat up slowly, mindful of the recovery his body needed. Then, he set Archimedes down and shuffled closer to Medic. Heavy looked into his eyes and smiled. Leaning forward, he kissed him.
Medic was not entirely prepared to receive the affectionate gesture, but managed to react rather quickly to return the kiss. He rested his hands on Heavy's shoulders and let himself enjoy the pleasant moment. He took mental note of how much nicer it was to meet his lips when he was alive rather than when he was attempting to revive him. Although the breath of life may have looked similar to a kiss, it felt nothing like one. The spark and excitement was missing entirely from the prior.
Drawing back a few seconds later, Heavy grinned, a light blush across his cheeks. Medic was pleased to see him happy, but almost happier to see that his circulatory function appeared to be functioning properly.
"How do you feel?" Medic asked.
"Happy."
He smiled, shaking his head slowly. "That's not what I meant, but that is good. I meant, are you feeling better than when you woke up? Are you still in pain?"
"Pain not so bad," Heavy answered. "Not gone, but not bad."
"Gute." Checking the clock hanging above the door, he said, "It's getting late, so you should probably go to bed. Do you need any help walking?"
Heavy slid off the table, landing with his feet on the ground without difficulty, yet he still kept a hand on the table to support himself. His knees wobbled but he managed to remain standing.
"I'll help you get to your room," Medic offered, putting an arm around the man's shoulders.
He put an arm around Medic's shoulders as well to increase his stability. "Thank you, Doctor."
"My pleasure."
He lead Heavy down the hall, taking their time to ensure he kept pace and remained in a stable condition. He knew from their extensive combat experience together that he was far from being a fast person on a good day, so the trip to his room was exceptionally slow.
Eventually, their efforts paid off when they made it to their sleeping quarters. The lights in the hall were dimmed, the individual rooms with their doors closed and without any light trying to peek out from under them. The base was quiet enough to make a pin drop sound like a stickybomb explosion. Medic took them to the door of Heavy's room and eased him off of his support until both men were standing on their own.
"Are you okay to get yourself to bed?" Medic asked.
"Da," he said, smiling.
"Just call if you need help."
"You work through night, too?" he teased.
Medic snorted. "Am I ever off duty around here? Hardly. Someone's always getting hurt."
"I will call Doctor if hurt."
"Sleep well, ja?"
"You too."
Medic checked over his shoulder, seeing that no one was watching. He then stole a quick goodnight kiss. Heavy smiled, said good night, then went to bed.
He followed suit, returning to his own quarters down the hall from Heavy's. Changing out of his uniform then setting his glasses on his bedside table, Medic collapsed onto his bed. Exhaustion hit him like a tidal wave as the severity of the day's events sank in. Knowing that the permanent Übercharge experiment failed and what that meant for the team left him feeling restless and uneasy. Without the advantage, how and if they would win was vague at best. Medic couldn't be sure that they even would, all because he wasted the Übercharge solution.
He turned onto his side and shut his eyes, attempting to silence his doubtful thoughts. He and Heavy were inseparable and he knew they made an excellent pair, especially on the battlefield. For now, he had to convince himself that placing his trust in Heavy would be enough to secure victory. It wasn't as though he had another choice.
Whenever the next attack came, he'd be ready. He and Heavy would fight harder than they ever had before and with enough luck, they could have a chance to survive what ever the thugs at Gray Gravel Co. would throw at them next.
As mentioned in the description, this fanfic will be acting as a form of a short-story prologue to a full-length fanfic that I'm working on called Like Father, Like Son. It will feature more couples, messy family dynamics, and the struggle against Gray Gravel Co. for Australium, so stay tuned for part two; it will be posted as a separate story! This is all set after the events of the comics and is based off of the lore from them, so I have done my best to stay true to it in every way I could.
For the record, I'll be going to university in less than a week. Any updates will be sporadic, and for that I'm truly sorry. I love working on these projects, but they honestly take a lot of time to write and revise until they're ready to be posted.
Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this! Until next time!
Oh, and I did an SFM thing. Here's a link to it (sort of, since it won't let me add a proper link). corporalfire. tumblr (.com) post/156947074451/at-long-last-i-made-an-sfm-poster-for-my-fanfic
Edit: The first chapter of Like Father, Like Son is now posted!