It was a bright and calm day outside, the suns last warm rays before it began its descent over the horizon. But for all the Scout would notice his surrounding right now, it might as well have been a hail storm The weather didn't matter right now.
"John, John, speak to me John!. C'mon! You're going to be fine!" He was talking fast, faster than usual. There was a twinge of panic in his voice that no matter how hard he tried he couldn't keep out. He didn't even try to keep the tears out of his eyes.
He had one hand pressed over a giant wound in the Soldiers stomach, trying desperately to staunch the bleeding. His other arm wrapped around the giant man's back, trying to keep him propped up. The sight of thin, weedy Scout trying to have any effect on wear the mass of muscle and bone that the Soldier seemed to be composed of would otherwise be comical...
"Kid, forget it" Soldier could barely keep his eyes open as he talked, wincing in pain as Scout dragged him up against the wooden boards of the white-washed fence, staining them with red.
"Don't talk like that, man, c'mon!" Scouts head desperately flitted from side to side "MEDIC! C'mon man, you're not gonna die, you've got through worse... MEDIC!"
The Soldier coughed and spluttered, causing blood to spray over his well-kept uniform, not that it mattered too much now. He looked up just long enough to see the panicked realization in the Scouts eyes. Then stopped seeing anything at all.
Scout lowered the helmet to cover the dead man's eyes. It was funny, he'd never really taken it seriously before, he'd never really taken any of the man seriously before, he'd always been the goofy one, the silly one, the one who seemed to make sure no one stayed down for too long...
Scout slumped to the ground, and buried his head into his knees.
Apparently he'd still been crying when the Medic found him later. He couldn't remember much, he'd spent the last few days in a completely daze, he couldn't take it in. He sat there on his bed, tossing a baseball over and over, just to give his hands something to do. A soft, repeated knock came at the door. Scout tried to say something, anything, but the lump in his throat wouldn't let him. After a pause, the door opened anyway to reveal a casually dressed engineer. It would have struck his as strange, seeing the engineer with no hat, no overalls, but he wasn't particularly in the right state of mind to notice.
"Hey champ, how ya doin' " The engineer opened with, as he closed the door behind him, he seemed to be making an effort to speak softer than his usual brash Texas drawl.
Scout merely looked up at him, there weren't really any words. The Texan wandered over and sat himself next to him on the bed, causing the mattress to sink slightly under the added weight.
"Look, i know this is tough on ya, it's been tough on all of us. And i won't say it'll get better, 'cos it won't... but life will go on, eventually" Scout turned to look at the Engineer, but he was wistfully looking out the window, Scout opened his mouth as if to say something, he noticed a few wisps growing out from the edge of the Engineers hair line
" I hate days like this you know?" The engineer chimed in breaking the silence "Days when you feel like the suns mocking you because it refuses to acknowledge what just happened. It don't even have the courtesy to rain."
"I just never thought it'd happen to HIM of all people" Scout finally spoke, his voice was slightly croaky. "He was always there, making jokes... doing silly things... he knew how to cheer everyone up. He never seemed to take it seriously.. i didn't think anything serious could happen to him"
The Engineer put his arm round him, his giant palms being almost as large as Scouts shoulder, and pulled him closer to him as Scouts voice started trembling and cracking.
"I used to think he was dumb, you know? He did all those things because he wasn't bright enough...I'm not so sure anymore. "
Engineer paused, struggling for the right words. He found a little irony that 17 PHD's yet he couldn't count the amount of times he could never find the words in these situations.
"Way i see it, not one among the lot of us woulda got this far without that man, we all owe him, and the only reason we'll manage ta keep goin' is that we remember he'd have got us through it. That man there was a man with more passion for what he was doin' than the rest of us put together, and to him, that meant keepin' his troops fighting too. "
There was a pause. Not an awkward one, they both just knew that they'd said all that had to be said on the matter. So they sat together, watching the stillness outside the window for a while, until the Engineer knew that it was time to leave.
"Thanks, Engi" Scout said, but it was barely a whisper, as the Engineer walked out the door. The Engineer went to tip his hat, until he realized it wasn't there.
Outside the door, the sniper was waiting for the Engineer, he was grasping nervously at the brim of his large hat, pacing back and forth along the narrow hallway.
"How's the young 'un doin'? Alright?"
"He's taking it hard" Engineer stroked his stubbly chin with a mixture of wistfulness and melancholy "I think the only one taking it harder than him is the poor Demo..."
"Demoman? I thought those two..." Sniper repeated with a look of questioning in his voice. The engineer just looked back at him with a gaze that oozed with a contempt for his denseness, until the Sniper finally put the pieces together.
"Ah, sorry mate, not too good at picking up competitive rivalries.. they don't last too long in my kinda work..."
A couple of days later, it was the general consensus that it was time to divide out possessions of the deceased. The Spy led the proceedings, keeping composure was in his line of work more than most, the rest sat down in assorted chairs they could gather... as Scout looked round at the gathered ensemble of misfits, looked at how each of them were handling this. The Sniper, doffed his hat in respect. The Demoman, shamelessly swigging whiskey at an otherwise alarming rate. The engineer was wearing a suit Scout had never even seen before.
The proceedings passed. It could've taken hours for all Scout knew, but he couldn't concentrate. Events just seemed to pass, as the spy suggested such an item be sent back to what little family he had left, or what little he had of worth go to such a cause... all scout knew is that by the time almost everyone else had left the room, he was still sat in the room, surrounded by empty seats and a battered and worn of copy of "The art of war" by Sun Tzu. Eventually, the hulking presence of the heavy made himself known, he lumbered over to Scout and pulled up a seat close to him seemingly teetering on it's edge.
"You look tired, little man. You haff not being sleeping well." Heavy's slow Russian speech lumbered over the words clumsily, but his voice was oddly comforting, his slow deliberation and mannerisms put the world to calm.
Scout turned to book over in his hands a couple of times "How do you do it heavy?" Scout said, looking up pleadingly at the giant man "How are you just moving on with it all? I.. I can't stop missing him... i keep wanting him to be there and he's not. And I.."
Scout cut himself off, casting his gaze back down as tears welled up in his eyes
"In Russia, the winters often took away people we cared about, they were cold and harsh... you carry on because you have to." The Heavy put his hand comfortingly on scouts shoulder, he felt it shaking ever so slightly. "But it does not get easier, little one. You do not have to stop caring. Just know that they want you to keep going too." Heavy paused and handed a long, clear glass bottle full of liquid from out of his shirt pocket to Scout, who looked at the label "It will help you sleep tonight. Just do not drink too much. At least one person in here can tell you that you can't drink to forget."
The medic looked at heavy disapprovingly as he left the hall, quietly trying not to let on his presence to the boy still sat at the other side of the door as he motioned heavy to follow him down the hallway
"You really think zat is such a good idea, giving him vodka at a time like zis?"
Heavy shrugged nonchalantly "He needs to rest, if he sleeps so badly... his mind will never be off it." Heavy paused, before shaking off memories off time's already passed. "Besides, it was not strong."
"Not strong? It was Moscow vodka! Besides, you always told me you vere saving zat."
"I was." Heavy replied "But he need it more than i need it. Perhaps that what i was saving it for."
The scout was sat on his bed, knees hunched close to him, turning his pistol over and over again in his hand. He couldn't bare it anymore. This thinking. Always the thinking. He just needed to stop. He couldn't take. It he didn't want to take it.
He threw his pistol over the side of his bed and looked away from it as it clattered to the floor. His eyes happened upon his bedside table, where his newly acquired items stood, the vodka still unopened.
He reached over and grabbed the copy of "Art of War" and stared at the cover. "More passion than anyone else here", huh. He really loved all this, everyone else was here because it's what they were good at it, because it's the best wage they could otherwise get.. but him. He was here because he really, honestly loved it. And now he wasn't here to enjoy it.
He flicked through the book as he was thinking this, not stopping on any particular page, just passing over them one. Until eventually, a scrap of paper fell out of the book and onto his lap. Scout instinctively placed the book down, open on the page it'd been on, despite not having read a word of the entire thing. He turned over the piece of paper, it was slightly worn and folded in half. As he cautiously opened it, Scout found his heart beating faster for a reason he couldn't quite pin down in himself.
Scout immediately recognized the messy scrawl of the Soldier, and his heart leapt. He read the entire thing through start to finish over and over again.
"Kiddo
If anyone of that bunch of do-nothings have done something right, then you've got this.
If you're reading this, then i'm gone and you've probably gone all nancy-boy, boo-hooing about it, and the rest of them have too. Well, i need you to snap 'em out of it! They can't keep moping for ever! They gotta get out there! Do what needs to be done! Get some avenging! You're not getting paid to sit around in a sewing circle!
It's all up to you now. If there's anyone among that rag-tag bunch that can keep them all going it's you! So chin up lad, you've got a war to fight!
I'll miss you lad, up there on that cloud. I need someone who knows what i real fight is to take my place, and you're the only one with brains to do it. Get out there and show 'em how to do it like men.
signed, Jon Doe
P.S. Sun Tzu really did say it, it's even in the book"
After his third read through, Scout held it tightly in his fist. A surge of emotions welled up in him at once. Resolve, sadness, joy... he didn't know what to feel. But he knew, that soon, he'd be moving on with his life again. Because now, well, he couldn't bring himself to let him down.
The Demoman sat in the Spy's office, cigarette smoke clouding the room, giving it an oppressive atmosphere, but the scot found that whiskey quickly resolved this problem for him.
The Spy, who had been sitting across from him, at the other side of a large desk filled with paper work finally leaned across the table, stubbing what was left of his cigarette before meeting gazes with his visitor.
"I trust your judgment, Demoman, but are you sure this is wise? I mean, i won't bring ethics up between us, but this..."
"I know what i'm doin' " There was a drunken drawl the the Demo's speech as he swigged again from his omnipresent whiskey bottle. But the Spy knew he was as lucid as ever, he knew when not to underestimate someone. "And it's the only way, trust me."
"But forging a dead mans hand?" The spy leaned back, his face once again obscured by white smog as he lit another cigarette "Just on the off chance we can bring him out of it? Why should we even intervene? Let him get on with it, like the rest of us." Spy gestured broadly, in an encompassing motion"
"Because" The scot firmly placed his bottle onto the table, his shoulders hunched with a finality about them "Even if there's no will, no last word from the man, i knew John. And if there's one thing he'd want us to do for him, it's this."
With that, the spy folded an already scruffy piece of paper and handed it over, before turning away in his swivel chair "Fine. It is already done. Just put it where you think is appropriate. I want nothing more to do with this."
"Aye" he responded "But ye did it, and that's all i need to know ye cared for the man too. Looking out for each other... that's the most important thing we can do now. Only thing left to do in his memory"
The Demoman stood up slowly and walked out of the door without looking back. He knew he couldn't replace his closest ally, competitor and friend.
But he could keep the legacy going.
That's all any of them could try to do.