I told myself to, "Just work with the title. It's brilliant."
My first story, and TF2 story at that. Not much for pairings, really. If I do end up pairing anyone, it would be Heavy and Medic, but I doubt it's gonna happen.
Rated T for language and blood. Just to be safe, y'know?
Enjoy.
Oh! And disclaimer! I do NOT own any of these characters. =D
Medic was always the first one awake in the morning. He was soundless as he made his way from his study (where he slept) to the infirmary. The door swung open and closed behind him automatically as he entered. The German was greeted by several coos and white shapes scattered throughout the room and rafters.
Medic proudly housed eleven white doves, all of which he had named and cared for. Reaching into a cabinet along the wall, he extracted a bag of feed and poured a small amount into his ungloved hand. Without hesitation, three doves (Galileo, Archimedes, and Socrates) swooped down and began to peck at his palm. As soon as the food disappeared, Galileo and Socrates flew off, chattering to each other. This left Archimedes in the doctor's palm, nipping at his fingertips.
"You are such a hungry one, Archimedes…" with his free hand, he stroked the troublesome dove with a finger, the bird nuzzled lovingly into the digit, cooing softly.
Medic's kind expression turned cold, "However, I am not so easily fooled. You are never zhis nice. Vhat did you do zhis time?" He stood up straighter, shooing off Archimedes before he scanned the infirmary for anything out of place. His eyes rested on the lid of his cooler, which was slightly ajar.
"Ach! Not zhe cooler! Archimedes, you troublesome Kind! I vas keepink zhe extra kidneys in zhere!" he shook an angry finger at the retreating dove before moving to inspect the damage.
Opening the cooler, he peered inside.
"Und vhy are zhere only four kidneys here instead of five? Don't tell me you haff managed to digest an entire-" Medic was cut off by the sound of someone else entering the infirmary. Shutting the cooler quickly, he stood up fully to greet his guest.
"Good morning, Doktor." the smiling face of the BLU team's Heavy greeted Medic.
"Guten Morgen, mein Freund. Und vas brings you here so early?"
"I hear noise. Come to check on Doktor. Make sure is okay." the man looked down as his own hands and twiddled his thumbs.
"So kind of you! Nein, I am fine. Just about to go down to zhe kitchen to make breakfast, actually. Es ist mein turn to cook."
"Doktor need help?" his face brightened.
"Nein, danke." Medic gave one last, 'we'll discuss this later' look in Archimedes' direction before he left a dish of feed on a gurney, turned off the infirmary lights, and locked up.
The two men made their way down to the kitchen, and somewhere along the way, the two had given eachother a quick hug before parting their separate ways until breakfast was served.
Rumor had it that Heavy and Medic were romantically involved. However, whenever someone tried to be sneaky and 'walk in' on any activities, they always stumbled upon innocent pastimes. Last time, Scout burst into Medic's study to find the pair playing cards, the chips were piled on Heavy's side. Not that Scout had wanted to stumble upon the two doing anything obscene.
Oh, no. Of course not.
Humming to himself, Medic pulled out several pans and utensils, trying his best to ignore the one greasy pan riddled with bullet holes and dents that the Soldier and Demoman were so partial to using.
"Ich bin Ausländer und spreche nicht gut Deutsch…" he sang quietly as he cracked eggs, chopped vegetables, set bacon and sausage, and kneaded dough. Covering the meat and turning down the heat on the eggs, he focused on the dough, stretching it out to fit the glass container.
"Ich bin Ausländer und spreche nicht gut Deutsch!"
Paring eight apples, he quickly chopped them, added cinnamon, sugar, and butter, filling the pasty with the apple-mix. Medic sealed the top of the pastry with more dough and then stuck it in the oven.
"Bitte langsam, bitte langsam, bitte sprechen Sie doch langsam-" Medic hung on the last note and paused for dramatic effect.
Spinning on his heel, he quickly turned around to shred potatoes into an unfolded napkin to soak up the excess juices.
"Ich bin Ausländer und spreche nicht gut Deutsch!" he applied pressure to the potatoes and plopped them into a pan. They began to crackle.
With a sigh, he glanced around at his work. Song finished, Apfelkuchen in the oven, eggs frying, bacon and sausage sizzling, potatoes popping and smacking...everything was on track and nearly ready to go. Medic was one of the few members on the team that could cook full meals that were both edible and delicious. At first, his teammates were skeptical of his cooking, thinking that the Blutwurst he served, literally translated to blood sausage, was perhaps leftovers of the RED team after the previous battle. They now realized that even though the German had his crazy-streaks, that he was far from mixing up his two hobbies. They could trust Medic with their lives, and meals.
Engineer was the first to join Medic in the kitchen, sitting down at the long table. He brandished a book and set it on the clean surface.
"Well g'mornin', doc. Smells mighty nice. What'cha got cookin'?"
"Danke. Just a few American classics. Eggs, sausage, hash browns…Apfelkuchen…" he added the last food item with a small grin in the Texan's direction, earning a chuckle from the man.
"Sounds great. Thanks!" he picked up his book and proceeded to bury his face within the pages. Medic figured it had to deal with schematics or mechanics. One of the two, he guessed. Engineer was always friendly, unless someone was sapping his sentry.
There was another bout of silence as Medic cooked and Engineer read. This silence was mauled to bits as Soldier, the human alarm clock, urged the others to get up.
"DON'T YOU DARE INSULT AMERICA WITH YOUR LAZINESS!" he banged his shovel against someone's door, a shout of protest revealed it was Scout's. "GET UP, MAGGOT! WE HAVE THE RED MENACE TO DEFEAT TODAY!" more protests, this time from Heavy's room.
Soldier was next to sit at the eating table.
"I wasn't aware Hitler taught you Nazis to cook! What un-Democratic grub are you making us today?" the man set his beloved shovel on the table's surface and patted it gently as he talked.
"Food." Medic answered, "I vill do mein best not to taint zhe meat vith zhe Final Solution, ja?" Medic frowned at Soldier before flipping the eggs. No matter how many times he'd told his team that he was never affiliated with the Nazis, Soldier kept at it.
The rest of the team eventually trickled in, filling the table. Soon, everyone was served and digging into their breakfast. Medic sat down in-between Heavy and Pyro, giving a kurt nod to both before picking at his own food. He glanced up at his teammates as they ate their breakfast. They were his friends, his family…a very dysfunctional family. Medic had taken notes on each and every one of them and have determined that they're all insane. Even him. Some of them were just sane enough to be able to conform back into society once their contract with BLU ended, but the others, there was little hope. Engineer was suffering from paranoia, Soldier was Schizophrenic, Demoman suffered from depression…the list went on. He diagnosed himself as bipolar, although he could just be viewed as enthusiastic about his line of work.
Their boss, the Administrator, watched the two teams battle and fight over land ownership. BLU figured that it was entertaining to the Administrator to watch them cry and scream in agony. They also felt that it was an assertion of power, too. She made them fight amongst eachother for her amusement because she could. However, hiring and training new mercenaries every time one bit the dust on the field was becoming annoying.
Weeks after this first twinge of annoyance, both BLU and RED teams noticed something a little different in their bases. A shiny gold and metallic instrument hung from the ceiling, sharp rods, dulled at the ends hung from its side like spiders' legs. A screen along the side of the room blipped quietly. The room was their battle preparations chamber, or setup room. Cubbies for the different men lined the walls filled with weapons and spare clothes. A gate separated this room and the battlefield.
"What is that thing..?" Sniper tipped his hat up and his aviators down to get a better look at the contraption. The rest of the team stood around, staring up at the machine. Engineer inspected it, then migrated over to the screen on the wall. It was quiet as the team waited for a response from the Texan.
"Sorry, fellas. I haven't a clue what this here contraption does." Engineer turned around to face the fifteen eyeballs staring at him. "I think - I think it's best if we jus' ignore it for now. We have a battle to win." he nestled his yellow hardhat onto his head, grabbed his toolbox, and headed toward the gate. The others eventually followed suit.
Medic had learned that in order to be most effective, he needed to train his Medigun on the members on the front lines, for they were the ones closest to death. The one man who was always leading the pack, however, was Heavy. He needed constant healing and overhealing in order to mow down or scare off the RED team.
This had all become routine. It was strange to think of war and possible death as routine, maybe even dull.
How messed up were we?
Medic cleared his thoughts as he trained the Medigun's beam on this teammates. The alarm had yet to sound, and the Administrator counted down from ten.
The meter's needle on his Medi-pack swam over into the red. The German smiled.
"Heavy, mien Übercharge ist ready." Medic said in a low tone to his partner. RED team members had about six seconds left of their setup time. Five, four, three, two, one…
"Charge me, Doktor!" the Russian yelled as alarms blared, gates opened, and gunshots fired.
With a flick of a switch, Medic and Heavy's worlds became crisp and clear as they were bathed in blue light. Bullets bounced and ricocheted off of their skin. Their heartbeats were strong and in unison, the air, despite being tainted with blood, dust, and sulphur, felt cool and rejuvenating. Being invincible made one feel like a God. During an Übercharge, Medic always took his glasses off, even for a split second just to enjoy the freedom. He didn't need them while Übercharged, and they just got in the way. Time seemed slow and plentiful, so he did his best to enjoy his surroundings before he had to pay attention to battle again.
Their current battle was taking place in an area called Gorge. It was a completely concrete and metal oasis in the middle of a crisp mountainside forest. A flock of doves were perched atop a nearby building.
How serene.
The sounds of fighting made their way back into his ears, becoming louder and louder. Time was returning to normal speed, and he felt his heart falter and skip out of unison with Heavy's. The Übercharge was ending.
As the charge cut off with an electrical spark, Medic instinctively ducked behind Heavy, keeping the healing ray on the Russian. Since the Übercharge ended, Heavy had already become acquainted with one of the RED Sniper's arrows, which was embedded in his left shoulder. Medic had no idea how many times the Russian had been shot, so who knows how many bullets he'd have to pick out of the man after battle. Regardless of his injuries, Heavy kept pushing ahead, turning a corner and making his way up a small set of stairs as Medic trailed loyally behind. The capture point was close, and after Heavy took down a sentry, they both stood on the point, enjoying the silence.
During these lulls in battlement noise, Medic always became uneasy, for it reminded him that he and Heavy might be in for a surprise backstabbing. No footsteps reached his ears, however. More of BLU team arrived, Scout was being carried by Soldier, an arrow lodged in his calf.
"Doc! I've been callin' ya for ages, man! Ever since their Sniper decided to be freakin' William Tell over there with his stupid arrows, th' bastard's been aimin' for my legs!" Scout unleashed a few profanities as Soldier dropped him roughly on the ground. "Is there any way you can patch me up, doc? I wanna get back at that freakin' kangaroo rat. This is th' sixth time this week he's done this to me!"
Medic knelt down to examine the oozing wound.
"Mmm…ja…looks like ve vill haff to amputate ze limb…" he brandished his bonesaw as the youth beneath him visibly paled. Chuckling, he patted Scout on the head. "I am just kidding, mein Freund." with a smile, he gripped the arrow, "I vill not lie, however; zhis vill schting…" in a single movement, the arrow was wrenched loose, and Scout yelped loudly in pain. Said pain quickly melted away into nothingness as Medic turned the Medigun on him.
Soldier, by this time, had already taken out that forsaken pickaxe of his and ran into the RED base, shouting expletives the entire way as he punished the REDs for not being BLUs. Scout stood up, testing his leg.
"Thanks, doc!" he grabbed his bat and pretended to hit something with it, "Yeeaahhh...this - this'll be good." chuckling, he ran off into the RED base, swinging the bat around at everything and nothing.
The only ones left capturing the point were Medic, Heavy, a busied Engineer, and a fidgety Pyro. Scout and Soldier were already fighting in the RED base, Sniper was outta sight an' outta mind, Demoman was probably sharing a drink with the Australian, and Spy was as absent as ever.
Medic turned around to face the RED base and noticed a bright orb of red. It glinted briefly in his glasses and he attempted the swat the nuisance away. His eyes were drawn over to the left-hand entrance into the RED base, where a narrow space in the concrete (He called it the Murder Gap) was visible. A pair of aviator shades winked at Medic as they caught in the sunlight.
That's when he realized he was about to die.
Medic whipped around to face his Russian partner, speaking frantically.
"Heavy! I haff to tell you zhat I ha-!" the shot rang out before he could finish, the bullet piercing the German's skull.
It didn't hurt.
There was a strange surge of thought before the bullet had made its way through his head, and that thinking time was probably what hurt the most. Afterwords, it felt like he had fallen into a lake, cold water rushing around him, drenching his clothes and making him shiver. Medic was well aware that he'd toppled over the edge onto the dusty ground below, landing in a broken heap. His mouth was slightly agape, and he could distinctly hear startled shouts of worry and anguish from…whoever it was up there…his teammates? The cold water rushed back over him, he couldn't breathe. Everything seemed muffled. His eyes slid shut as sound and thought became obsolete.
•
•
.
.
Medic awoke on the cold tile floor of their setup room, gloved hands clutching his sides. The world spun. Where was he?
Medic found that he was unable to stand up right away, and when he'd finally managed to do so, his breakfast disagreed with his actions and ended up on the floor. He found it difficult to concentrate, to think, or even to move…he just stood there leaning against the cold concrete wall in a daze for God knows how long. Just standing there, shivering.
What had happened? Where was his team? Did he pass out? Questions flooded his mind. Why was he still in the setup room?
He staggered to the open gates, leaning against another wall. He'd remembered feeding the birds today…making breakfast…then…not much after that. The sudden urge to sleep tugged at his body as he attempted to step forward. He collapsed slowly onto the ground, face up against the sun-drenched concrete, glasses ajar. The warmth was soothing. For a while, he just laid there, willing to snap out of this fogginess.
Had he been drugged?
The sounds of a far-off raging battle deterred his thoughts. He had a job to do! Pushing himself off of the ground, he straightened his tie and brushed off his coat. The waves of nausea were leaving him, thankfully. Hefting his Medigun in his hands, he trotted off toward the noise.
Strangely, he couldn't hear nor sense any calls for his services. Like their team's Engineer, and maybe even RED's Engineer, Medic had a sort of…sixth sense whenever someone would call for him. It was an annoying twinge in the back of his head that told him that someone needed him, and was outside his range of hearing. He always found them, too. Medic gave up trying to explain it, and just rested on the conclusion that it was "Medicinal Instinct." Engineer was similar, for he always knew when some rotten Spy was sapping his sentry, even if he wasn't there to witness the act.
As quietly as possible, Medic slipped into the RED base, following the sounds of explosions and yelling. He heard the familiar noise of his Heavy's minigun spinning accompanied with shouting. What bothered the German, however, was Heavy's anger in his words. They seemed cold. Vengeful? Had someone been hurt, and he was taking it out on the RED team? He needed to hurry.
Rounding a corner, Medic nearly ran straight into the Russian, who was just finishing up scaring off a few Scouts.
"Heavy! Thank Gott I haff found you, you see, es ist zhe strangest thing, und-" he stopped and looked up as his friend appeared shocked, placing his minigun onto the ground softly as if any sudden movement would scare Medic away.
"You are not Doktor." Heavy's expression was one of unmatched fury and...sadness?
"…Vas? Heavy, I assure you, I am me!" he held his hands up in his defense, worried that his friend might try to hurt him.
"Spy use bad disguise! DOKTOR IS DEAD!"
Nothing could've prepared Medic for what happened then. He didn't have time to duck the incoming head-sized fist that punched him squarely in the face. His glasses went flying and clattered to the ground just out of his reach. The German was knocked back from the blow of the punch, hitting the doorframe and sliding slowly down to the ground. He was fairly sure his nose was broken, judging by the amount of blood that was now pouring down his once-clean labcoat. He blinked the stars out of his eyes and held a hand to his face, applying pressure. The world was blurry due to the lack of prescription lenses in front of his eyes, but when he looked up to see Heavy, he noticed that the man looked surprised.
"I-is not possible." he backed away slowly and then shuffled forward to get closer to the fallen doctor, he fell on one knee to see the man eye-to-eye. "Should have revealed Spy..." he mumbled.
"Do I look dead to you, dummkopf? Vas gave you zhe idea I vas DEAD? Und since vhen haff you been so paranoid of Spies? I swear to Gott in Himmel zhat you-" his scoldings were cut off as Heavy drew him up into a back-breaking bear hug.
"You are okay!" he swung the smaller man around and buried his face into Medic's labcoat, shaking ever-so-slightly. Was he…crying?
"Heavy! Vas - Put me down! Vhat has gotten into you? Are you unwell?"
"Glad to have Doktor back." the Russian held him at arm's length to get a good look before putting him down. Heavy's eyes were slightly red. "Have many questions! Have to kill leetle baby REDs first! Let us go!" he grabbed the German's hand and tugged him along like a parent leading a child out of a candy store. They rounded the corner to see six of their teammates standing on the last capture point, the seventh, Pyro, had cornered the entire RED team, trapping them within their setup room. Pyro threateningly waved around their flamethrower, making the REDs draw back every time the instrument got close to them.
Scout was the first to look up when Heavy and Medic entered. His jaw dropped.
"Holy shit, man...it's the doc!"
Everyone turned to face Medic, all wearing nearly the same expression of either fear, confusion, shock, or a mixture of all three.
"SPHHH!" Pyro whipped around and charged at the two, suddenly brandishing a large axe.
"No! No! Is real Doktor! I checked! Just as leetle Pyro said to!" Heavy spoke up, jabbing the air with a swift punch as explanation. Pyro gave a shaky thumbs up.
The control point chose this moment to change from RED to BLU, and the Administrator announced the BLU team's victory.
'Tis my first story. Reviews are loved. Let me know if you'd like me to continue. =)