Original name: In My Arms

Okay, I don't know what's wrong with me. Here, have another sad story.

Weak, gasping breaths make Sniper's chest constrict. He had gone through horrible things in his life, failing to protect the people he loved and watching those same people die. Nothing made him feel as useless as he did at that moment, though. Cradling the broken body of his closest friend in his arms, the Australian felt like the world was ending and he had been the one to cause it.

"Everythin' will be okay," he whispered, his eyes burning. "I'll get ya back to the others. I'll—"

"Lawrence," the soft voice of Spy said.

Trying to keep himself calm, Sniper stared down at his friend. It was his fault the Frenchman was dying. If he had been more careful, paid more attention to what had been happening, he could have prevented all of this. The two of them would be going back to their teammates together with smiles on their faces. Eyes locked onto harsh chest wound, Sniper knew there was no way that could happen. To have a person so close to him take a blow meant for him just to protect him made him angry.

"Do you…remember when I told you—" Spy coughed, blood spurting out of his mouth. "—zhat I would never take off…my balaclava until ze day I died?"

"Shut up, ya bloody spook," Sniper ordered, voice breaking with grief. "Save your strength."

"Take it off," Spy rasped.

"What?"

"My mask. T-take it off."

"I can't just—"

"I want…at least one of my friends to see my face before I die. Do it."

Hands trembling, Sniper gripped the edge of the fabric and peeled it off of Spy's head. He gripped it in his hand, staring down at his friend's face. His features were twisted in pain, a sight that made Sniper's heart ache.

"I am 'ideous, aren't I?" Spy asked with a strained laugh.

"Nah, mate, you're downright handsome," Sniper said, meaning every word he said. He placed the mask down and cupped Spy's face with a gentle grip. "That why ya kept your face hidden? Didn't want all the ladies chasin' ya?"

Weakly chuckling, Spy did his best to shake his head. "No, mon ami. I was…too afraid to show anyone what I looked like."

"Afraid? You're one of the bravest men I ever met, spook. Ya were just smart." He swallowed. "Stop talkin' so much, okay, Spoi?"

"Philippe," Spy croaked.

"Huh?"

"My name…it is Philippe."

Sniper reached a hand up to dry his tears. "Nice ta meet'cha, Phil," he said. He was trying to make light of the situation, push the fact that his friend was dying in his arms to the back of his mind. "Always thought ya'd have one of them cheesy French names, y'know. I'm not one to talk, am I? My name is freakin' Lawrence. That's the name ya give an egghead, not a person like me. At least your name fits ya, right? Nice and sophisticated and—" He cut himself off upon hearing a quiet, ragged breath from the man. "Spoi?"

There was no answer.

In other news, I cannot write French accents. Woo!