A/N - I do not own TF2 or any Team Fortress 2 characters. The game and the characters belong to Valve

Chapter 1 - The end is the beginning is the end

I look up at a pale colorless room, lying on a bed with starchy sheets. The dark frame of a man towered over me, the light haphazardly casting an eerie white glow on the lenses resting on the bridge if his nose. His white uniform was perfectly pressed and only marred by the blood both fresh and dry of the people he was charged to "care" for.

He grabbed a pair of deep blue gloves from the box lying next to me and with the grace and expertise I expected, slipped them on without a hitch. The quick and nimble fingers preparing the bandages, still lithe after so many years of tending to the sick during the war, could have only belonged to our medic. Age had yet to whisk away any of the polished technique and grace of the middle aged man before me. His mouth was moving but I couldn't hear a thing, it was foreign. German perhaps... He then moved in closer, to my level, revealing kind gray eyes. I could understand him this time as he spoke. I expected some sort of chastisement but instead received advice...

"Try to watch your back next time...'"

"Merci, docteur"

I sat up and turned to the table next to me and put on my balaclava. The medic found me lying in a puddle of my own blood over at the red base. I don't quite remember everything that happened. It all started too fast. But I do remember him. The Red Spy...

"Oh…Spy?" the medic called interrupting my brief reverie.

I continued walking over to the door, then stopped to turn to him,"Yes?"

"Please…please be careful."

The Medic. He never used to try to purposely cause harm on people. He always told us he was a doctor, not a killer. But one day he changed, one day he cracked and never seemed the same again. The cries for help and the constant thought of being a high priority target destroyed the kind soul he had tried to preserve all throughout the war. His caring side continually emerged every so often, but he was never the same. The war had opened a door which should have never been opened and sadly it could not be closed.

Schadenfruede... Sadism.

It was a dog eat dog world and the Medic knew that if he didn't kill the enemy, they would kill him. The war was cruel like that and the people who seemed the most undeserving were always- the ones- who got it. Earlier this year, he received an offer to leave but he didn't. No one asked why he declined the offer because we didn't have to. We were the only family he had left.

Inside the Intel Room, everyone was gathered around the table, some examining "current" blueprints of the Red base while some were meticulously cleaning their guns.

"'Hey! He lives!!' yelled the Scout. He did it on purpose, I know he did. I shot him a glare to which he responded with a devilish smirk. It was all but futile, he wanted to see me angry, it seemed as though the only reason he existed was to annoy the living hell out of me. Before I knew it everyone turned to see me. The Scout knew I hated the attention. Being injured was already embarrassing enough. And now the spotlight was on me. Great.

He ran up to me and walked me over to a chair that he had saved for me. I suppose as much as I hated the twitchy little brat, I couldn't help but also like him. He was like the little brother who you pretended not to remember being related to but deep down you really cared for him. Not just because you were family, but because you shared a powerful bond. Even though we argued on and off during our time here we still had each other's backs and that was the most important.

Slowly but surely, everything began to calm down and people continued on with their business. The Scout plopped down on the chair right next to me, toying with his sawed off shotgun, "Damn, you were out for days, what in the hell did that RED prick do to you?'"

Before I could answer, I heard a breathy voice intervene, 'Ow r mou?"

I glanced at the Pyro, then over at the Scout, he knew where this was going. I had no clue what he was saying and the Scout probably had no clue either. As he turned I could see a small smile curl from the corner of his lips. He savored taking part in this sure to be awkward situation. I stared at the Pyro, his body encased in a blue asbestos suit and his face covered by a black gas mask. I felt bad staring but I didn't know what else to do. He was probably used to it. After what sounded like a sigh, be repeated himself, slower this time, "Ow r mou?"

"Oh, ok... I guess."

The Pyro never takes off his gas mask. It's like he is hiding something. He never showers with us and he always eats alone. No one dares question him or even try to sneak a look. The last person to see the Pyro's face "accidentally" found himself on the wrong side of the Pyro's flamethrower. It's like an unwritten law, everyone knows and everyone new who comes to the base will be made sure to know, that if you don't mess with the Pyro he won't mess with you. Almost everyday I see him, he's playing with a lighter. If your mother ever told you 'never play with fire' you can bet that his mom never told him...or he never listened. He constantly clicks it on and off. A nervous reflex, perhaps? But like I said, don't ask personal questions, especially not to the Pyro.

"Whts wrg whit ur lg?" questioned the Pyromaniac.

"Geez, you even messed up your leg. You must be getting rusty, french fry."

"Well the doctor said that I sprained my ankle, I'll be fine in a few days, it really is no big deal."

I didn't really want to talk about this. Not today. I mean seriously, what kind of spy falls and sprains his ankles. Heh, graceful. Then just when I thought it couldn't get any worst, I get stabbed in the back. Fantastic. I am definitely the perfect person for this job. I pulled out my cigarette case and shakily grabbed one of the slender sticks inside. I then pulled out my lighter and fumbled with the starter. It wouldn't light, the lighter was near empty. Damn. I heard a click from in front of me. I looked up to see the Pyro holding a flame inches from my face.

'Needa ligt?'

Greedily, I took the light and slowly inhaled the smoke letting it fill my lungs. My fingers were still shaking. The Scout was right, I was a wreck. I sat back and tried to relax, turning to the Scout.

He smiled, "It's great to have you back."

I smiled back, albeit a very weak one. I was glad to be back with them.

I excused myself from the table and headed off into the hallway. Outside the sun was beginning to set leaving only a few palely lit clouds in the horizon. I yawned. Even though I had lots of sleep in the infirmary I was still tired.

"I'll wk mou to ur rm" the Pyro said, following and still playing with the lighter. I looked at him oblivious of what he just said once again. I wanted to say something nice like 'repeat yourself' but all that came out was a weak-hearted-

"What?"

The Pyro repeated himself again.

"I'll wlk u to ur rmm?"

"Oh, that would be nice..."

The Pyro walked me to the sleeping quarters of the base. I was surprised that such a small room could fit all nine of us. This room holds many memories. I remember listening to the Scout talk in his sleep, and celebrating the Engineer's birthday, and even holiday mail call. We all have memories in this room.

I walked over to my bed after Pyro decided to shed my jacket and tie, leaving the under shirt. I told Pyro thanks. It was odd, Pyro was being very kind lately. I expected the Pyro to go back to the Intel room but he looked at me for a while and made his way towards his bed. I stared at him tiredly for a moment and I struggled to keep awake. I wanted to know what he was doing. He fiddled with his mask. Before anything happened my eyes closed and I was in a different world. I fell asleep.