"No."

That was the only thing Medic said in response to his friends. Or at least, the ones that used to be his friends.

"C'mon, sawbones." The southern voice of the Engineer said through the heavy door. "You've been in there for almost a month, and...frankly, we're all a might worried 'bout ya."

The german doctor didn't even turn his head. He held his surgeon's shako in his hands, glaring at the golden cross that emblazoned the front of it just above the black bill. He hadn't even bothered to clean the blood off of it, which was now caked and dried up, staining the white fabric that covered the stout hat which he had once worn so proudly.

"You shouldn't worry about me, Engineer." He finally said back, still not moving much. "No one should."

"Doc..." Engineer called again.

"Go away."

Medic listened for a few moments, and finally heard the Engineer's footsteps fade away down the hall of the building they shared. He waited a few more moments, and then tossed the shako against the wall, letting out a grunt and letting tears stream from his eyes.

The hat hit the case containing his medals, and it fell to the floor with the headgear, and shattered loudly, the rusty, silver, and diamond emblems splaying out in diffrent directions on the carpet.

Medic didn't even give them a second look. What good were medals to man who had failed? How could anything he had done in his life, no matter how great, change the fact he had messed up?

What good was a doctor who couldn't even save one life?

He stopped crying momentarily as he righted himself to walk to the bathroom. He passed by pictures hanging on the darkened halls of the dimly lit room which Medic dwelled in. He glanced at each of them. They all held good, but painful memories. He picked one up off the wall, and stared at it with a sad smile.

"Mien freund..." He muttered. "I wish...I could have been a better medic...I wish I would've thought it all through."

He swallowed a lump in his throat. Remembering the one botched order that had cost everything.

He placed the picture back on the wall, and tried not to sob as he walked to the bathroom again.

As he washed his face, he noticed the giant sized toothbrush still laying on the countertop. It was much to big to fit in his hands, but he picked it up anyway, looking at it with the same sad expression he had treated the photo to.

After a moment, he set it down again and walked out. He couldn't rid himself of all the things that remained of..."him." He knew it was unhealthy, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. They were all he had left to remember him by. He had failed him. He had mislead him. He had messed up.

He sat down near the window, and buried his face in his hands. He didn't look up, until he felt the clawed talons of his little friend on his shoulder.

"Archimedes?" Medic asked, looking to his feathered friend. "What are you-?"

He stopped when he realized that his pet pigeon was holding something. It was a small note, rolled up and tied to the pigeons leg.

Why would someone write to him? Everyone he knew was down the hall. A better question was, HOW could they write to him through Archimedes? The pigeon had not left this area in weeks.

The now puzzled Medic took the letter off of his pet's leg, and unwrapped it. It was much bigger than it had looked folded up, and there was indeed a letter written on it. When he read it, his heart nearly stopped.

This had to be a prank. A cruel joke by Scout, or Soldier, or someone. There was no way this was possible. But, the words were clear as the paper in front on his face.

Dear Medic,

Nyet, this is not a trick. It was not Scout, it was not Soldier, or anyone. And I know you will be thinking it is, but it is not. It is indeed me. I'm down here in Hell. It's not as bad as people in the living world say it is. In fact, I am loving every second here! The demons are always challenging me to wrestling matches and boxing fights. I always win of course. I even beat Saxton's father in a bare knuckle brawl! I really am strongest man in world! HA! Oh, they offered me a chance to go to the other place...the bright, white, cloudy filled one. But I think that would've bored me. No action. Down here is much funner!

But that is not why I write this. I am writing this, and breaking a few rules in the process of doing this, but-

I am writing this to tell you that you cannot keep blaming yourself. Sometimes, things happen, and we don't always respawn. It's just our time to go when we can no longer fight in the living world.

I have seen you. I have seen how you have tortured yourself, starved yourse;f and even shut yourself away from team. You cannot do this, Medic.

I know if I were in your shoes, I would be sad to see you go. But, like us, sometimes a time comes when we have to move on. Not everything can go on forever. Even Sahsa has to run out of ammo sometimes. Well, not here, but in your world...ah, you know what I am saying. HA!

Point is, do not be sad, little man. I am very happy here, and maybe one day, you can join me. Who knows, maybe when Halloween comes to the badlands we can see each other for a few moments. I would like that.

Don't blame yourself for things that aren't your fault, old friend. And to make you feel better, I had little bird put sandvich in the fridge for you. I know you love them as much as I do...or did...well, I still love sandvich! HA!

And I love you, Medic. I always will. And as your lover, I want you to be happy. Do not cry, little man, laugh. Laugh that evil laugh like when we killed entire itty bitty teeny team the one time! I would rather hear that down here, than defeated crying. You might be little man, but you are not baby man! You are Docktor! You are credit to team! Now, go and dominate them all!

Love always,

-Heavy Weapons Guy

Medic pulled the letter to his chest, and felt as though his heart started beating again for the first time in a long time.