[[a pre-emptive shoutout to my friends sharon and N who have been hella helpful with reading this. you three are the best]]
The world is clear, then white and orange, then he hears blood-curdling screaming.
Tumbling to the ground, skin being riddled with gravel, is nothing new to the young man. Scout had taken his fair share of falls in his lifetime, and at the very least he'd managed to turn this particular fall into something of a roll. But the pain in his skull was new. Even when his body was riddled with shrapnel or blown to bloody pieces, it had never felt like this. No, never like this. This was every death he'd ever felt, all put together. This was a pain unlike anything in the world. This was the sort of pain that he thought should be able to knock him unconscious, but it didn't. It just raged on.
He realized after about thirty seconds, detachedly, that the screaming was his own.
He thought he could hear something else, too. Other voices. People calling his name. He didn't think he could move. Had he been blown into a thousand pieces and just gotten trapped in his head somehow? Had he somehow, after so many times, simply failed to die?
He wanted to die, now. But it wasn't happening. Instead, he felt something pulling at his mind through all the screaming. Someone was certainly calling his name. It almost sounded like Spy. Or was that Medic? Or perhaps both? He didn't know.
His dying felt different, this time. He wasn't being siphoned into a new version of himself. He was leaving this time. He needed to go. He was late.
Was he being picked up off the ground? He couldn't feel the sand and gravel beneath his cheek anymore.
He needed to hurry home—his older brothers were all waiting for him, he knew. Ma always worried when he came home late from school. He never stopped being the baby of the family, and it only made her fret even more at the end of the day. He wished she wouldn't worry so much, but he didn't blame her, not after all the trouble his brothers put her through.
He heard more screaming. He wished it would go away. "Whot the bloody hell 'appened to 'im!?" yelled a voice. Something was yelled back.
He never missed dinner—even coming in late was unacceptable. He couldn't do that to Ma. Not after all the times his older brothers came home battered and bloody, or didn't come home at all. He hated to see her upset or scared, even for a second. He had to go home.
He was slapped. He blinked his eyes open to look for who did it, but he couldn't see… anything. He didn't know why this was happening. Didn't they know he was going to be late?
"Jeremy," his eldest brother chided, walking beside him as he was carried by someone he couldn't quite see, ruffling his hair. His hat was gone. Ma was gonna be mad about that. "You're gonna be late soon. Quit playin' around already and come on." He didn't know why his heart ached. Maybe because Jack, the eldest brother of eight, had been dead for... six years? But he was here now, so Scout felt he might as well forgive him, just this once.
Someone else was calling to him. He could hardly hear it over the ringing in his ears, over the pain.
He wanted to go home. Why wouldn't they let him go home already?
He'd woken up to the sound of arguing.
It was… Medic, and Heavy. The two were yelling at… was that Spy? And the Frenchman was yelling back. And why weren't his eyes opening?
"Zen what do you propose we do!?" Spy snapped. "If ze medigun does not work, what zen!?"
"I do not know!" Medic shouted right back. "It is obvious zhat zhe usual methods are off the table, and at zhis point I do not know if he vould come back vith them fixed if he died! Any surgery would pose its own risks!"
"So he is just like zis now, is zat it!?" Spy shouted, and there was the sound of something clattering from elsewhere, closer to the Medic.
"Do not shout at Doktor!" Heavy roared, and Scout winced at the volume, sucking air through his teeth as he realized how bad his head hurt. Suddenly, all the sound seemed to be pulled from the room, movement stilling, voices falling silent. Scout slowly sat up with wobbling arms.
"Ah. Herr Scout." Medic's voice was level now. "How do you feel?"
"Well, uh…" Scout coughed, his voice hoarse, raw. He'd been screaming, he was pretty sure. He thought he could remember that. He tried again. "Uh. My head hurts a lot, an' I feel like I swallowed a campfire, an' my face is weirdly numb, and my eyes ain't openin' up for some reason. So. Maybe like, a six outta ten," he answered.
A beat of silence, stillness within the room. The softest sound of shifting "Er… you do have your eyes open, mein friend," Medic said, and Scout blinked. Then he blinked again.
"Uh. Then why is everythin'… not? Like, there? At all?" he asked despite his protesting vocal chords.
"Yes. So…" Medic was silent for a few seconds.
"You 'ave lost your eyesight," Spy said after that long moment.
Scout paused. "Huh? Whaddaya mean?" he asked, unable to process the words.
"Your eyes have been very badly damaged, my friend," Medic said, voice even. "Zhe enemy team's Pyro got a very, very lucky shot on you, and burned zhem quite badly. Und for vhatever reason, my Quick-Fix is not… vell, fixing them. My current hypothesis is that zhe Quick-Fix und my medical fluid can only replicate existing cell types, not create new ones—it seems to be the primary explanation, at least as of now."
"So… what does that mean? When do I get them back?" Scout asked, panic mounting in his chest. "Like, a few hours? A day?"
"Vell… I don't know." The Medic's voice was full of bitterness. "I vould try und operate on zhem, but zhat might just make zhe problem vorse. Our best course of action is to simply vait und see if zhey vill heal on zhere own."
"And… and if they don't? What then?" Scout asked.
"Then leetle Scout may not be able to see," Heavy rumbled, and Scout felt his heart plummet through the bottom of his feet.
"But… but… no. No, nonono, I—I gotta see, how else am I supposed 'ta fight, or—or run? Or do… frickin' anythin'?!"
"I know," Medic said, and his voice was sad. "I… I vill try und figure out a solution. Until zhen, someone vill need to… take care of you. Help you out vhile your eyesight hopefully comes back. Make sure you can eat und move around. Is there anyone particular you vould vant to assist you? I will not have time, as I vill be busy vorking to find zhe solution. I suppose zhat Spy is already here."
"Hell no, I'd rather die," Scout said flatly without hesitation. Spy grumbled a bit at that.
"Zhen perhaps Heavy? I know I vould like his help vith mein research, und generally he is around mein lab regardless, but if you would like…"
"No to that too. Sorry big guy, but you just don't always know ya own strength and I wanna keep my bones intact," Scout said apologetically, reaching out a hand in the direction that he thought he could hear Heavy occupying. He found the giant's upper arm and gave it a pat.
"Is okay, leetle Scout," Heavy said, unoffended.
"Vell, zhen I suppose you could choose Pyro or Soldier?"
"Pyro is a maniac and Soldier is a separate kind of maniac. No thank you," Scout replied, wincing at the very idea.
"Perhaps Herr Demoman?" Medic tried.
"Nah. Guy would probably give me alcohol poisoning."
"Vell… zhat leaves Engineer or Sniper."
Scout thought about it for a second. "Well, Engie is always busy, so I guess Snipes. He's responsible, at least. And I think he can cook. He can cook, right? He mentioned that once. And he's quiet, which should help with this massive freakin' headache. Think that'll go away soon too, Doc?"
"It might. Ve vill have to vait und see," Medic replied. "Herr Shpy, if you could… uuuuuund he's gone. Just… ugh. I-I'm going to assume he vent to fetch Sniper. Until he gets here, if you vould not mind answering a few questions to find zhe extent of zhe damage, Scout."
"Sure thing."
It turns out that Spy did go to get Sniper. Scout was just finishing up answering the last few questions when he heard the door open.
"Ah, Sniper! Hello!" Medic called cheerfully. "Danke, Spy."
"G'day. So 'ow is 'e?" Sniper asked, almost too quietly for Scout to hear as he approached.
"Alive, mostly," Scout answered, turning and raising a hand to wave towards where he was pretty sure Sniper was.
"Dear god, I didn't believe Soldier when 'e said you got y'face shredded, but 'e wasn't lyin'."
"My face is shredded?" Scout asked, feeling panicked. "Aww man, how bad is it!?"
"You are quite scratched up, mein friend. Look as if you lost a fight vith a very angry cat. But only superficial wounds—zhey vill go away vizhin a few days. Probably."
Scout deflated. "Dang it. Frickin' perfect. Don't even have my good looks to fall back on now," he sulked.
"Either way… Spy didn't tell me whot ya wanted."
"Oh. Well, my eyes are all messed up, and the Doc here says it'll take a few days for me to get my sight back, so I need someone to help me get places and do stuff for a while. Figured you was the least busy and/or crazy guy to go to. So, uh, yeah."
A few beats of silence passed. "Scout, I did not say it vould take a few days," Medic said softly. "I said zhat it could. But… it may not come back at all if we—"
"Yeah, a few days, I heard ya the first time Doc!" Scout said loudly, and he heard a sigh. "So until that happens, I need like. A seeing-eye dude." Another silence. Scout felt his grin falling flatter. "Snipes?" Another long silence, then he was turning his head this way and that. "You—still in 'ere?"
"Aye," came the man's voice from just to one side, and a hand landed on his shoulder. "Still 'ere. Just thinkin' is all. So… if 'e doesn't get 'is eyes back. Whot then?"
Medic laughed nervously. "Zhen? Vhatever happens after zhat isn't up to me, mein friend."
Scout felt himself going pale. "It's gonna come back though, so why are we even talkin' about this? I'll be fine," he insisted.
"…Ja, Scout. You vill be fine," Medic said after a beat, no energy behind the words.
"So… where'll the little bugger be staying?" Sniper asked.
"Oh, my room isn't gonna work," Scout said instantly. "It's a mess, I'll like, definitely end up trippin' over stuff."
"Well… I suppose that my camper 'as space, if you wouldn't mind it bein' a bit of a walk. Would help me keep an eye on you, at least," Sniper said finally.
"Okay, sure. Don't matter to me," Scout said, shrugging. He moved to hop off the operating table and instantly had to reach back for it to keep his balance. "Woah—! Holy shit, okay, this is gonna take getting' used to," he laughed nervously. "Hey, what time is it?"
"Oh. Er, dinner's just up. You slept through it," Sniper replied awkwardly.
"I doubt he is hungry," Medic cut in. "Side effect of zhe pain medication he has been under. He vill be needing plenty of bedrest, und fainting vill be a risk for zhe next forty-eight hours or so."
"Yeah, I figured. Man, I do feel pretty tired, is the thing," Scout said, the nervous laughter bubbling forth again. "Like, real tired."
"Well… I suppose we'll get you to sleep, then," Sniper said slowly.
"Cool. Uh, see ya later, Doc. Thanks," Scout said, waving towards him.
"A bit to zhe left, mein friend. But yes, gute nacht," Medic replied with mild amusement. "Avoid much exercise for zhe next forty-eight hours, try and keep emotional strain to a minimum or you may faint again, and if anything gets vorse come back here as quickly as possible." Scout felt a hand on his shoulder again, and let himself be steered from the room, only interrupted by a mild stumble at the threshold.
"Sorry!" Sniper said quickly, catching him by the biceps before he could eat concrete.
"It's cool," Scout said quickly. "Uh, maybe it'd be better if I…" He reached blindly and found the Sniper's arm, then moved to grip at his sleeve. "There. Lead the way. And uh, try and warn me if you see any stairs."
"Right," Sniper said, and then they were walking.
Scout was… confused. Suddenly he felt himself going silent, trying to pick up on everything around him by listening, mentally tracking his progress through the base by their turns. It was eerily quiet by his standards, but he didn't want to miss anything, so he had to just… listen. It was starting to freak him out a little. His go-to was talking—every new or weird situation could be pushed to the back of his mind if he distracted himself with running his mouth. But he couldn't do that here.
"You awright?" Sniper finally asked after so many halls and turns.
"Huh?" Scout said, snapping out of his thoughts. "Oh. Uh, maybe. I mean. Yeah, yeah I'm cool. Just tryna figure this out an' all."
"Right." Sniper was silent again, and Scout assumed the conversation was over. Then suddenly he spoke again. "You sure seem like you're takin' the whole thing rather well."
"Oh, I'm totally not," Scout laughed, and it was shaky, and he felt Sniper faltering slightly. But all the panic and emotions were bound to come spilling out eventually, and he couldn't stop the flood now. "I don't know what to do. If I can't see, my life is over, ain't it? All I'm good at like, professionally, is bein' fast. An' if I can't see where I'm goin', there's no point, is there? An' I'll lose this job, and I dunno what I'll even have to say to Ma, she… she'd definitely cry, and then I'd start cryin' too and it'd be a whole big mess, an', an' I dunno what I'm supposed to do, I just…" He reached his free hand towards his own neck to clutch at his dog tags. He stopped dead in his tracks, and Sniper had to brake hard to avoid pulling the smaller man over.
"…Mate?" the Australian asked slowly, apparently noting the growing horror on the younger man's face.
"Oh no. Oh no, oh god oh no oh god no no no NO—" And Scout was patting his pockets, feeling under his collar, clutching at his own hair—"My tags, where are they?! Were they in the lab!?" he demanded.
"I—I didn't see 'em, mate," Sniper answered, stammering. "Didn't see 'em when you were gettin' carried out, neither."
"Oh god, they're somewhere out on the field, oh god this is bad, this is so bad—" Scout felt the tears welling up too now, furious tears that stung his eyes, and no, he couldn't cry, not in front of Sniper, but he'd went and lost his dog tags right after he lost his eyes and he didn't think it could've gotten worse but somehow it did, and—
"Mate, breathe. Breathe." Sniper had him by the shoulders now, and Scout tried to snap himself back to reality. "We'll find 'em as soon as we can, awright? But you need to calm down."
"I can't lose those, Snipes, you don't get it, I—I need those back now, I, I…" he found himself caught on that last syllable, breath catching with it, and everything felt like it was spinning, and Sniper was all that held him up now. "Oh god, oh god oh god oh god…"
And for the second time that day, he wasn't in his own head anymore. Everything was far away and muffled. He was being half-walked, half-carried. He thought he might be crying, and he winced at the thought. He was a grown-ass man, he didn't cry. But he was.
Then he was lying down on something soft, under something soft and warm. A blanket? Maybe. And he let himself fall asleep, because what else was he supposed to do?
And somewhere in the very back of his mind, he registered that someone was murmuring to him all the while. He didn't know what that someone was saying, but it was bringing him back down to earth. He was grateful.
The same dream. It wasn't Jack this time, it was Henry, second-eldest. Scout was stood out in the street, and there was nobody else around. He could hear the sound of traffic, but not in his vicinity. There wasn't much of anything nearby, really.
Then a hand on his shoulder, and he was turning, looking up. His brother's hair looked like fire, and it was curly and untamable, even by Ma, so much so that apparently they made him shave it off before he was shipped out to fight. But Scout never got to see it, not even for a funeral, because technically he didn't die, he just… disappeared. He couldn't imagine Henry without his orange curls.
"Lil' J, you gotta come back home eventually, y'know," Henry said, voice quiet. He was always like that, gentler than the other boys despite being so big and distinct, broad shoulders and ginger hair.
"I know, but…" Scout said, and he tried to remember what exactly he was waiting for. It felt like something important. He just couldn't think of it. "Why didn't you, then?" he challenged, and felt bad instantly for the words. His brother couldn't help it. And he was back for now, so…
"I did though, Lil' J. Came back when it was my turn," Henry said, gesturing down the road. "An' you know it's gonna be your turn soon."
"That ain't fair," Scout said, brows furrowing. "I've got a while, don't I?"
"You had a while, slugger. You've been usin' borrowed time." Henry ruffled his hair, and his smile was sad. "Sooner or later, someone's gonna come collect."
He pushed his brother's arm off him without much real force. "Well, not now. Not just yet," Scout said firmly. He might not be able to remember what he was waiting for, but it had to be important.
Henry shrugged, jangling faintly as he moved. "Alright," he said. And Scout woke up.
[["trigger" you say, frowning and looking over the summary of the fanfic. "why did you tag this as romance?"
i look over the top of my glasses and swirl my goblet of apple juice. "patience, reader," i say, "soon you will understand."
reviews give me life cool thanks]]