Welp. This is a story about Medic's daughter. Don't worry, the TF2 guys'll come into it at some point, I promise. Please leave reviews and comments; anyone who gives constructive criticism gets a free hug!

Sabine packed up her books and got to her feet, putting her bag over her shoulder. Finally, it was playtime. She'd been getting thoroughly bored with class; they were learning about anatomy, and her papa had taught her everything about that already. She opened her backpack to get out her doll. There was a black and white photograph taped to the back of the inside. She smiled at it. "Hi, papa. How are you?"

The photograph was of her, about a year younger, riding on the shoulders of a relatively tall man with black hair and glasses. He had a rather long face, and a smile on his lips. She was in the middle of laughing, one hand meshed into his hair, and the other hooked around his chin to stay on.

A real life laugh grabbed her attention, and she looked up. The oldest boy in class, a child named Garrey, was watching her. He'd been held back; he was eight years old. Meanwhile, six year old Sabine was already in second grade. "Who're you talking to, Sabine?"

Sabine zipped up her backpack quickly. "No one."

One of his friends leaned over. "I bet she's crazy," he whispered.

She scowled. "I'm not crazy, stupid."

"Well then what are you talking to, the elf in your backpack?" Garrey laughed.

"… My papa."

A derisive snort. "Your papa doesn't live in your backpack, idiot."

Sabine's cheeks went flaming red. "I know that. It's a picture."

"A picture? Lemme see."

Sabine shook her head, stepping away. "No."

He pouted. "Come on Sabine, I just want to see." He grabbed her backpack and ripped it out of her grip, opening it.

"HEY!" Sabine shouted, stepping towards him and grabbing it, "give it back!"

He pulled the picture from her backpack. Sabine winced at the sound of the tape giving. "C'mon Sab, I just want to look at it."

"NO, LET GO!"

He looked at the picture with a grin. "You look just like him. Where is he?"

Sabine scowled. "America. He works there."

"Why? Why didn't he take a job here in Germany?"

"… I don't know. Mama says it pays well."

He snorted. "Yeah right. I bet he did it so he would not have to be around you."

Sabine growled. "Nuh-uh! Why would he do that?"

"Because he doesn't want to be around you. I bet he's buried in American girls. Probably hasn't even thought about you."

She felt tears rise in her eyes. "Yes he has! I've been writing him-"

"When vas the last time he wrote back?"

"… Two months ago."

He smiled, satisfied. "That is the proof."

Sabine glared at him and balled her fist, punching him in the face. Garrey let out a howl of pain, staggering backwards. He glared at her. "You little—!" he tackled her, sending her to the floor. She let out a startled yelp of pain and fear, kicking at him. Soon the two were rolling around, shouting and hitting each other. Garrey's friends joined in.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!"

The four children froze. Sabine scrambled off of Garrey, and the other boys got to their feet. "Sabine hit me, Miss Abbing!"

Sabine frowned. "They said that my papa doesn't love me!"

"All of you go to the principal's office, now."

"… Yes, Miss Abbing." The four obediently shuffled off. Sabine snatched her picture from Garrey as soon as they were out of sight of the teacher, glaring.

"You won't touch my papa again, or I will hurt you."

Garrey scowled, touching a bloodied nose. "That was a lucky shot."

Sabine glared at him, hugging the picture to her chest. They came to the principal's office. After a berating and being given detention for the rest of recess, they went back to their classroom.

Sabine doodled as she listened to the teacher, as she always did. She smiled slightly as she drew. That was the operating table, there was papa…

"Sabine," a sharp voice said, "perhaps you would like to share what you're drawing with the class, since you don't seem to be paying attention to what I am saying?"

Sabine blushed and got up. "Okay, Miss Abbing." She went to the front of the room and held up her picture. "I was drawing my papa. He is a doctor in America. That is the patient, and there is my papa. He has his bonesaw because they need to amputate the patient's arm."

The teacher looked a cross between horrified and confused. "… Ah.. that is nice, Sabine. How about you go and see the principal after school? We need to speak with your mother."

Sabine frowned. "Why?"

"… It is nothing, Sabine. Go to your seat."

"Yes, ma'am." Sabine went and sat, frowning. What had she done wrong?

Sabine sat uncomfortably in the principal's office a few hours later, drawing on a blank sheet of paper while she waited for her mother. The principal was a middle-aged woman with a sharp nose and long fingers. Sabine had always thought that she looked a lot like a bird. A vulture, maybe.

The door opened just then, and Sabine looked up. A woman in her mid to late forties was in the doorway. Her hair was blond, but there were some streaks of gray in it. She was quite attractive and had aged well thus far, but she was beginning to gain wrinkles in the corners of her clear blue eyes. She wore heels and a light blue dress. She frowned at Sabine. "Sabine, what did you do this time?"

"Nothing, mama."

She sighed. "Yes, and that is why your principal called me to the school." She sat down.

Sabine cringed, feeling a plume of panic. What had she done wrong? Was she in that much trouble? Would she be expelled? She couldn't be expelled, her papa would be so disappointed… tears rose in her eyes. She didn't want him to be disappointed in her. "… I drew a picture, mama."

Her mother bit her lip. "… Oh… I see." She turned to the principal, who looked very concerned.

"Mrs. Hertz, your daughter has been, ah, drawing some very disturbing pictures during her class. She was also in a fight earlier today."

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Yes, yes… what pictures?"

The principal offered her the drawing, along with a few more equally disturbing ones, one of which involved open-heart surgery and a blood-spattered dove. All of them were anatomically correct, and very gory. She flicked through each, frown deepening. She looked at Sabine. "Dear, we have talked about this. You will not draw your papa like this, especially at school."

Sabine frowned. "But that's what he does!"

"No," she said sharply, rising to her feet, "listen to me; you will not draw any more of these pictures."

"But-"

"If I may make a suggestion," the principal intervened, "perhaps you should send her to a councilor."

Sabine frowned. Councilor? She didn't need a councilor. She wasn't crazy. She opened her mouth to say so, but her mother cut her off. "Ugh… if you think so."

He nodded, passing her a business card. "I would suggest Dr. Dressler."

"I'll keep that in mind; thank you."

"But mama-"

"Don't argue with me, Sabine."

She looked down. "… Yes, mama."

"Good." She turned back to the principle. "Is that all, sir?"

He nodded. "You can go."

She took Sabine's arm without another word and led her away.