Scout's Ma worked 6 hours a day at the diner, in their own little part of town.
Scout had been there quite a few times himself, especially when he was younger.
But let's not call him Scout.
He wasn't Scout back then, after all.
He used to be called Bill, for that was the name his Ma gave him when he was born.
Bill remembered the diner very, very well. It was etched deeply in his mind at the back of his brain, where memories are kept.
The diner was a narrow shop squeezed in between two giant shophouses. Booths, arranged systematically everywhere, were the dining facilities of choice, comfy seats stained with greasy fingerprints and catsup over the years. Bill used to crawl under the tables all the time, pretending he was a top-secret high-class ultimate ninja assassin. The whole place smelt like oil and cheese and socks, and for Bill, it was the smell of memories.
It was a wonderful place.
But best of all, there had been chocolate milk.
Lots of it, as much as he ever wanted.
All he had to do was ask politely, and the nice girl at the counter would fetch him a paper cup of that milky goodness. He would down it in two gulps and grin, asking for more, a brown milk moustache clearly visible on his upper lip.
His eldest brother would come to the diner in the afternoon, waiting for the nice girl to get off her shift so they could hang out together. Bill wanted them to marry, so that the nice girl could be his sister.
He had always wanted a sister.
Bill also remembered a tall man, who always came to see his Ma. He wore an expensive red suit and a fedora that cast his mysterious face in shadow. He spoke with a clipped French accent, and made his Ma giggle a lot, even as she was dishing up a plate of chips for a customer. Bill remembered him, mainly because he did lots of magic tricks that made Bill laugh loudly. The man had a slim case in one hand and a watch on his wrist. He would squat down so that he was on the same level as Bill, and suddenly, he would vanish into thin air! Then, as Bill searched frantically for him, he would reappear right in front of him. He could even change faces! He did lots of faces for Bill, from a short man wearing goggles to a burly bald Russian and sometimes, even his own Ma. And when Bill begged for more, he would grin impishly, and leave the diner in a cloud of smoke.
Bill loved the diner.
It was so fun!
But as he grew older, his brother took him to the diner less, and more to the baseball diamond on the edge of town. When before he had drank milk and crawled under people's legs, now he ran and caught balls and cried because he missed the diner so much.
His eldest brother, Mev, said that all little boys had to play baseball. Sometimes, when he was playing, he would sneak a peek at Mev and the nice girl from the diner. Mostly they cuddled and laughed, but when they thought no-one was looking, they kissed each other- on the lips! Then a distracted Bill would miss the ball, and his other brothers would boo and holler in dismay. "Bill!" they said. "How could you miss a ball like that?!" Then he would feel guilty, and play extra-hard the next time around.
Over time, Bill began to miss the diner less and less, and actually looked forward to playing baseball with his brothers. The day after his 7th birthday, Mev didn't turn up to watch them play, nor did the nice girl from the diner, the one who gave him chocolate milk whenever he asked for it. During dinnertime, just as Ma was spooning out the mushroom soup, Mev came in, soaked from the rain and looking very, very sad. Bill reckoned that right then, Mev probably felt as sad as he had the first day he went to the baseball diamond instead of the diner. Bill's Ma fetched Mev a towel, and Mev said, "Carol ditched me." He said it again, then burst into tears. Bill, had never seen his eldest brother cry before, not ever, and his brother Skye quickly took a few Polaroid shots of Mev blubbering and crying, which Bill kept under his mattress. Mev was sad that night, and because of that, Bill felt sad too. Eventually, though, Mev got a new girlfriend, and he wasn't sad again after that.
Bill remembered the days and weeks and months and years that followed, full of baseball and girls and gang fights. He tried to be a good student in high school, to please his Ma, but he got into a brawl with a guy from the football team, who said that baseball players were 'sissies', and was promptly expelled. He took to odd jobs around town, starting work early in the morning, and coming home hours after his brothers had gone to bed. His Ma used to stay up, waiting for him to return, no matter how late it was. Bill remembered that the most.
Bill turned 17. Then 18. Then 19.
He continued doing work here and there, hauling bags of cement that he could barely lift around and delivering newspapers on foot.
Then he turned twenty.
And then he got the call.
"You want the job, simple," the lady said to him on the phone.
"I want the job," Bill said.
"Excellent," the lady said. "Very good."
Bill got a letter, and a plane ticket to New Mexico. The plane was to leave the very next morning. Bill showed his Ma the letter, which explained that he would be involved in building and construction.
The next day, he swiftly packed his bags and said goodbye to his Ma and brothers.
"I'll call," he said, hoisting his bag higher up his shoulder as his Ma wiped her tears away with a hanky.
"Scout's honor."
A/N: Well, that sure was a horrible fanfiction! I apologise for any silly mistakes I made in the story, and I sincerely hope you enjoyed it! Of course, I don't own TF2. I wish I did. Really, I do.