"Hey Spy, what're you afraid of?"

The question was abrupt and blunt, much like everything Scout did. Spy took another puff from his cigarette and glanced at his young companion, taking in the curiosity gleaming in those gold-flecked eyes. He raised an eyebrow and removed his cigarette to take a swig from one of the two opened beers sitting between them. After he swallowed, he set his cigarette back between his lips and let his elbows rest across his knees, eyes not leaving Scout's face.

"Why do you ask, petit?" he said, blowing out a few smoke rings idly. Scout watched the rings dissipate into the night air before shaking his head.

"I'm just curious," he replied, lowering himself down so that he was lying sprawled out on the concrete roof. "I mean, Heavy's afraid of heights, Doc's afraid of drowning, and Engie's afraid of dyin' in general. I was just wonderin' what you were afraid of." He looked up at the star-strewn sky. "Everybody's afraid of somethin'."

Spy cupped his chin in his hand and contemplated whether or not to answer. A Spy was never supposed to reveal any weaknesses, to neither friends nor foes, and revealing what he feared would most certainly violate that creed. However, this was Scout. The boy was twenty-three years old, but he was still more child than man, honestly curious about everything and arrogant in only the way a child who had not been shown his limits could be. It couldn't 'urt…

No. No, even if this was Scout, the REDs had shown that they weren't above capturing the BLUs and torturing their secrets out of them. Scout was fast, but what if, one day, he wasn't fast enough? Spy frowned and sucked on his cigarette, only to realize he'd already smoked it down to the filter. He drew out another and lit it, glancing back at Scout as he did so. The young man's eyes were no longer looking to the sky, but to him, still waiting for an answer. This unusual display for patience startled Spy and he smiled slightly as an idea came to him.

"Alright petit," he said. "I will consider telling you what it is that I fear if you tell me first. What is so terrifying that a brave young man such as yourself would 'ave cause to fear?"

Scout tensed at the question and his eyes were quick to turn back to the sky. Spy watched, patient as ever, as Scout played with his dog tags, his expression flicking between intense thought, discomfort, and shyness. He looked over at Spy briefly and, upon seeing at the older man was still watching, he blushed. Spy smiled behind his hand under the pretence of taking another drag from his cigarette, fighting back a fond chuckle.

Slowly, Scout licked his lips and said, "Promise you won't tell anybody?" Spy nodded and gave his word. Scout took a deep breath and ran a hand down his face. Then, slowly, he sat up and moved next to Spy so that he could whisper in the other man's ear. Spy's eyes widened in surprise as Scout explained what secretly terrified him and he cocked his head to the side as Scout pulled away. The boy looked nervous as he softly said, "Swear you won't tell nobody? Not even Sniper, or Medic?"

Spy smiled softly, shaking his head as he recovered from the revelation Scout had offered. The younger man's fear really wasn't that strange, now that he thought about it, definitely nothing to be embarrassed over, but he'd play along. "Of course petit. No one will know."

The relief on Scout's face was so obvious that Spy nearly laughed. "Great!" The boy grinned and punched Spy lightly in the shoulder. "Now c'mon. What're you afraid of, big badass Spy that you are?"

"Hmm, I recall saying that I would consider telling you, mon petit," Spy said, grinning devilishly and drawing from his cigarette. "And after some consideration, I have decided to keep that little bit of information to myself."

"Aw, what? You can't do that! That's not fair!" Scout protested loudly, pouting in a comical manner.

Spy laughed and tousled his companion's hair before giving him a playful shove. "'All is fair in love and war' Scout. All is fair…"

Three Months Later

The BLU base was unusually quiet. For only the second time since their arrival at Well, they had lost the battle. No one was quite sure how it had happened, how the RED Scout had so easily bypassed Engie's sentries or how the RED's offensive line had been enough to hold the BLUs back so effortlessly. No one had come through the battle unscathed, all of them sporting minor injuries, though for some, they were not so minor. Engie had taken a full load of scattershot to the gut from the RED Scout and, after the RED Soldier had hit him with a rocket, Demo had only been saved leg amputation by Medic's speedy arrival. And Scout…

Spy was sitting in the infirmary next to the examination table where Scout lay, lost in unconsciousness. The masked man had been there for the past six hours, reading a copy of Dr. No that he'd received from Sniper a few years back, watching for any sign of wakefulness in the younger man. So far, Scout hadn't offered so much as a twitch. He'd laid perfectly still, his breaths coming slow and deep, his eyes lightly closed. He actually looked quite peaceful. It was hard to believe that when Heavy had found him back during the battle he'd been begging to be allowed to die and respawn, despite knowing that ceasefire siren had already blared. Both of his legs had been broken and he'd been spitting blood from a kukri wound to the chest, not to mention the various bullet holes that had riddled him. It made Spy nauseous just thinking about it and made him silently glad for Medic's skills in healing.

Flipping to the next page in his book, Spy looked up as he heard Scout's soft breathing suddenly hitch. His eyes immediately found the boy's face, where eyelids were lightly fluttering and lips parted to release a breathy groan. Spy's gut clenched and he carefully set his novel aside. He gaze flicked, for a short instant, to the thick leather straps the Medic had insisted be put in place "for Scout's own good" in case he "tried to hurt himself" when he woke up. Spy's skin crawled as he remembered the night Scout had confided his deep fear of confinement in him; he knew that this would not end well.

Scout groaned again and Spy saw him attempt to lift a hand, most likely to rub his tired eyes. Said hazel globes snapped open faster than the Frenchman would have thought possible when the hand did not rise from the surface of the examining table. Scout lifted his head quickly and Spy saw sun-tanned skin paling as the boy observed his restraints. The tabled gave a sharp rattle as Scout brought his weight to bear against the bonds, but the straps refused to give.

Scout's gaze darted from side to side before locking onto Spy. He licked long dried lips and said, "Spy, lemme go."

Spy frowned and scooted his chair closer to the table. "I'm sorry petit, but Medic ordered us to leave the straps on, even if you woke up."

"I don't care who ordered what, Spy." Scout's voice was starting to tremble and Spy could see him straining against the leather. "Let. Me. Go."

The fearfully pleading look in Scout's eyes was painful to see. Spy bit his tongue to keep himself from speaking and his hands clenched in the expensive fabric of his suit pants. He shook his head, bowing it so that he wouldn't have to see Scout's face. He didn't have to, though: what he heard told him more than enough. Scout's breathing continued to quicken until he was almost hyperventilating and the examination table rattled and shook as the Bostonian thrashed uselessly against his bindings. Spy shut his eyes as he heard frightened whimpers beginning to rise from the young man before him, bracing himself as he heard Scout take in a deep breath.

The scream that passed Scout's lips echoed off the sterile walls of the infirmary and made Spy's ears ache. He grimaced and resisted the childish urge to cover them with his hands, instead forcing himself to raise his eyes, opening them slowly. Scout's face, so pale a moment ago, had turned a rich crimson colour and his mouth was opened wide as the wordless roar left it, seemingly unending. His entire body bucked and writhed as he worked vainly to free himself, his motions so violent that, at one point, two of the table legs came up off the floor. Spy had had to push the table back down, and he gripped Scout's wrist so hard that he was sure the boy would bruise.

"Petit, Scout, calm down," Spy said, trying to keep his voice soothing while raising its volume high enough to be heard over the younger man's wails. "No one is going to 'urt you. We just need to keep the straps on until Medic is sure you won't 'urt yourself!"

If anything, the simple statement only made Scout scream harder. Instead of a wordless howl, however, he began to shout "Let me go!" over and over, so loud and so fast that it was hardly intelligible. Spy winced when he saw little lines of blood beginning to form on Scout's arms where the skin had been rubbed away by his struggling. He tried holding Scout still and speaking to him, hoping that the lack of violent movement might settle the Bostonian, but his screaming and fighting only got louder and stronger. Spy cursed and screamed out the infirmary door for Medic.

And then he saw the tears. Spy's heart sank down past his toes when he saw the fat drops of moisture rolling down Scout's cheeks. God, Scout had said he was afraid of being restrained, but this was beyond fear. Simple fear didn't turn a young man usually so arrogant and sure of himself into a wailing, crying child. This was something more. This something had made Scout entirely unaware of his surroundings save for those damned straps that held him. He only really seemed to notice Spy's presence enough to direct his desperate screaming and sobbing in his general direction. Otherwise, he was lost in his own terrifying little world.

Once Spy heard Scout starting to choke on the phlegm his crying had produced, he decided he'd seen enough. Damn Medic and his orders; he wasn't going to let Scout continue to suffer like this. He flicked open his butterfly knife with none of his usual finesse, a solid click following the movement. Scout saw the blade and he let out an ungodly shriek, but, as much as it pained him to do so, Spy ignored it. He held Scout as still as he could with one hand and carefully slid the knife between the straps and Scout's squirming form. Then, with carefully controlled strokes, he began sawing at the Bostonian's bonds.

"Vhat is going-? Dummkopf! Vhat ze Hell are you doing! Stop zis at once!"

Spy didn't have a chance to look up before a blue-latex gloved hand shoved him bodily away from the examination table. He fell to the ground and his eyes shot up to see Medic injecting something into the still wailing Scout's neck. He suddenly felt very cold. Scout was having a mental breakdown, the cause more than obvious, and Medic's solution was to drug him? Out of the corner of his eye, Spy saw the rest of the team, gathered in the door and staring at the scene inside. As the Frenchman pulled himself to his feet, he heard Scout's screams fading until the young man finally fell back into deep unconsciousness. Ignoring the furious glare Medic directed at him, Spy moved back to the examining table, looking down at Scout. He felt anger bubbling up in him as he saw that, even unconscious, the boy still looked afraid.

"Now, vould you mind telling me vhy on Gott's green Eart-"

The thud of knuckles meeting soft flesh filled the infirmary for one quick second. Medic sprawled to the floor and, putting a hand to his aching jaw, he looked up at Spy. The masked man was massaging the knuckles of his right hand and glaring poisoned daggers at the doctor. Disbelieving stares from the BLUs assembled at the door followed him as he strode closer to Medic until he loomed over the usually more imposing man.

"Vous me dégoût, vous sale fils de pute," he hissed. Glowering, he spit on the doctor's pristine white coat and stalked away.

"That wasn't exactly a bright move, mate."

Spy didn't turn. He only took another long drag from his nearly spent cigarette, his third since he'd come up to the roof twenty minutes prior. He listened, though, and watched through his peripheral vision as Sniper came up beside him, arms crossed over his chest. He's annoyed with me, he noted dully, cracking open his cigarette case and drawing out two of the brown cylinders. He lit them both off the tip of his current cancer stick before holding one out to Sniper. The Aussie took it without a word and for a moment, the two of them smoked in silence.

"Doc's just about ready t'kill ya," Sniper said, blowing out a plume of bluish smoke. "He was pitchin' a royal fit when I left."

"I 'eard," Spy said, bemused. It had been hard not to hear the string of German curses and angry shrieks coming up from inside the base.

Sniper sighed softly, pushing up his glasses to rub his eyes. "You don't think you did anything wrong, do ya?"

Spy shrugged and said, "I know I did something wrong. We shouldn't be fighting amongst each other like discontented children." He licked his lips before setting his cigarette back between them. "I won't say that the petite chatte didn't deserve it, though."

He saw Sniper raise an eyebrow at him. "Oh really?"

"You 'eard Scout," Spy said, his voice a low growl. "You saw Scout. The poor boy was terrified out of 'is mind and what did Medic do? Pump some drugs into 'im, knock 'im out. Never mind that when 'e wakes up this 'ole thing will repeat itself." He sucked on his cigarette, burning it all the way back to the filter. "What was 'e thinking anyway? Straps! Mon Dieu, I know Scout can be a little bit 'ard to 'andle during 'is medical exams, but straps?" He flicked away his cigarette butt, snorting smoke out his nose like an angry bull. "The man is a fucking lunatic…"

Silence fell over the two of them again. Sniper continued to quietly puff away at his cigarette, which was still only halfway spent, and Spy just let his eyes slide out of focus, letting the RED base in the distance fade into a reddish-brown blur. He wondered if Medic had undone those straps yet, or if he was waiting for Scout to wake up and have another emotional breakdown. The very thought made his gut churn angrily. Medic had deserved that punch, no matter what anyone said. The man was a doctor for God's sake! He had to be reminded that his job was to help his teammates, not drive them into fear-induced insanity.

"I'll talk to Medic, get him t'undo the straps," Sniper said, dropping his finally burned out cigarette and grinding it into the roof with the heel of his boot. "There's no reason t'keep the little scoot trussed up like a bloody Christmas turkey. However," he looked down at Spy over the rims of his aviators, "you do somethin' stupid again, I'll strap you down and roll ya into the moat, got it?"

Spy nodded, but said nothing. It wasn't exactly what he wanted—quite frankly, he wanted Medic beaten bloody, but he knew that he was just being emotional—but it would do. If he ever tries something like that again, though, I will kill him, he thought grimly, finally turning to look at Sniper full on. The Australian wore his usual expression of impassivity, but his eyes showed that he and Spy were on the same page. Spy smiled and said a quiet thank you before walking back toward the interior of the base. He knew Sniper would do what had to be done.

When Spy returned to the infirmary after five more cigarettes, he found Medic at his desk filling out reports and Scout thankfully unrestrained, though he was still out for the count. Medic didn't look up when he entered, nor did he challenge him when he walked over to the examining table. He gently ran his fingers over the boy's cheek, jumping slightly when the younger man twitched and mumbled softly. Apparently he wasn't unconscious, but merely asleep.

"I vould appreciate it if you vouldn't vake ze patient, Herr Spy."

Spy turned to see Medic still hunched over his desk and he frowned. "I wasn't aware your sedatives wore off so quickly."

Medic growled, "Zey don't. I just gave him a very small dosage, just enough to calm him down." He took a deep breath through his nose and slowly got to his feet, still not turning to face Spy. "Sniper came to see me. Ve had… a talk about vhat happened earlier vith Scout." Medic turned and Spy was surprised to see a genuinely apologetic look on his face. "I apologize for my actions. There vas no true justification for restraining Scout like I did. I vas unavare of his apparent phobia, but zat is no excuse. It vas… nozing short of pure stupidity, vhat I did. I know zat you and Scout are close, and I know zat zis incident vas difficult for you. I'm sorry."

Spy crossed his hands behind his back, frowning contemplatively. "I believe it is Scout that you should be apologizing to, doctor."

"I'm avare of zat," Medic said, the slightest hint of venom in his voice. "I fully intend to once he vakes up. However, I zought zat it vould be prudent to apologize to you as vell." He pushed up his spectacles and sighed. "Not to mention zat Sniper threatened to string me upside down from his nest if I did not."

Spy laughed softly and he shook his head. "I accept your apology, Medic. Thank you."

Medic nodded tersely before going back to his paperwork, mumbling under his breath in German. Spy smiled at his back and then returned his focus to Scout. The young man had rolled onto his side and was kicking out sporadically. His eyes were darting about beneath their lids; he was dreaming. Spy's smile grew and he gently stroked Scout's cheek. Scout mumbled, but did not wake. Spy shook his head fondly and looked back at Medic.

"Thank you again doctor," he said.

Medic grunted in response. "Fine, fine. Now vould you kindly get out?"

Spy nodded slightly and gave Scout's hair a final playful tousle. Then, still smiling and glad that the day's drama was (hopefully) behind him, he left the infirmary, whistling softly as he walked.