(I don't own Team Fortress Two)


~Chapter Three~


That night, Russel would have slept very well, if not for the nagging fear that his caretaker would change his mind and, despite all reassuring words and promises, decide that he did want to hurt him after all. Even so, he awoke feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time. The smell of something cooking made him realize just how hungry he really was. As he slowly, stiffly made his way into the kitchen, he wondered why the hell he was wearing fuzzy pajamas with pink flames on them. No, probably better not to ask. He cautiously greeted Beryl, who was already hard at work at the stove.

"Hey. Morning. Sleep well?" Russel nodded. "Good. You like your eggs scrambled?" He nodded again. Hell, at this point, he would have liked his eggs burned black and scraped off the bottom of the skillet, it had been so long since he'd eaten real food. "Don't hafta eat all of it. Probably get sick if ya did," the engineer told him as he sat at the other end of the table, sliding him a heaping plate of eggs, bacon, sausage, and two biscuits. Russel just stared at it for a moment, unsure of where to start, before picking up his fork and eating as much as his still delicate stomach could handle. They ate in silence, both of them sneaking glances when they thought the other wasn't looking. When Russel pushed his plate away, Beryl cleaned up after the meal, chatting amiably about random things, like the drought they'd been having. "Reminds me of home, kinda. Grew up in Texas. I don't really mind the heat. It got plenty hot during the summer at home." Russel knew that he was talking mainly for his benefit, trying to put him more at ease, and he appreciated it. He liked listening to the older man's deep voice, his gentle southern accent adding a hint of rhythm to his words. "How about you?" Russel looked at him in surprise. "Where you from?"

"Eh- 'm from Boston. Lived there with my ma until I finished with school... Ya know," he explained awkwardly, the engineer's steady gaze making him slightly uncomfortable. "Uh... you want any help with that?" he asked, gesturing to the dirty dishes that Beryl was washing. The man shrugged.

"Nah, it's okay. I got it. Don't want you hurtin' yourself, either." Russel was slightly miffed.

"What the hell? I ain't that beat up!" he countered, jumping up quickly to prove it- and landing hard on the floor as his knees gave out. Damn traitorous legs. "So I'm a little weak still. What's so funny?" he snapped, ignoring the offered hand and using the chair to haul himself to his feet. Beryl shrugged.

"Nothin, nothin." he chuckled. "Glad you have enough energy to be that feisty." Russel huffed, ignoring the man. "Okay, lissen, kid. Don't take this the wrong way. I'm not gonna hurt you, but I need to look at yer injuries. Ok?" Russel nodded, swallowing nervously. He limped after the man into the other room, sitting on the bed where Beryl indicated for him to sit. "Alright. Now please, you gotta trust me. Okay?" No, not okay! He'd just met this guy. He was part of the enemy team- the team that had already caused him so much pain! The team that had done this to him! Beryl sighed upon seeing Russel's expression. "Just for right now. You got no other choice right now, cuz your wounds will get infected, and you could die." Death was preferable to some things... "You can keep on your underwear, but the shirt and pants have to go. Hey, calm down! Calm down. I swear on my toolbox, I'm not gonna hurt you!" Russel fought to control the rising feeling of panic as he tried to think logically. The man was right, he had to trust him at least a little. When he had stopped shaking, he reluctantly pulled off his shirt, then his pants, which he kept draped across his lap to cover himself at least a little. "There we go. It's okay. It's gonna be okay," Beryl murmured a constant stream of comforting words as he inspected the boy's wounds. It was the same tone he used when comforting a sheep or cow giving birth, but Russel didn't need to know that. The scout flinched slightly under every touch, but he allowed Beryl to treat him. At least none of his bones were broken, that Beryl could tell. Now that he had more time to examine him more thoroughly, he was able to see exactly the extent of damage on the poor boy's body. He had bruises everywhere- he could clearly see fingerprints on his wrists, arms, and hips. The rest of his body was peppered with a wide variety of colors from dark, angry black, blue and purple bruises, to sickly-looking, yellow and greenish bruises. The skin had been rubbed raw on his back, and he sported two skinned knees. Here and there, he had a few bite marks, and the skin around his wrists and ankles looked to be rope-burned. He had some other scrapes and scratches, but what horrified him most were the numerous small, round burns and deep, long cuts that were definitely deliberately inflicted. He pictured Mer, that bastard spy, with his ever-present cigarette, and that damn knife he loved to play with so much, and his pulse rose in anger. He growled slightly under his breath, making Russel shiver. "Dammit!" he shouted, his anger getting the better of him, and Russel lurched away from him, his arms going up to wrap around his body, protecting himself as much as possible. Shit. Now he had terrified the already scared boy... "No, no. Not you. I'm sorry I yelled, just calm down," he coaxed, but the look of fear in the scout's eyes remained. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you..."

"W-what the hell was that for?" He could see that the boy wouldn't come any closer to him without a good explanation. He sighed, rubbing his chin.

"I just don't understand how they- them that did that to you, can live with themselves. 'Specially that fucking spy!" The venom in his voice astounded Russel. When the man had shouted, he had automatically assumed that it was aimed at him... the mention of the spy made Russel twitch, and that only served to further anger the engineer. "Oh, that bastard 'ad better pray that he never sees me again..." He continued his rant for a few moments before taking a deep breath. "Sorry. Don't mind me. Now, ya want some different clothes, or you wanna keep wearin' those pajamas?" Russel blinked at him before blushing, remembering his near-naked state.

"Eh... some normal clothes'd be nice... where in the heck did you get these from, anyways?" he asked, kicking at the fuzzy pink pile on the floor.

"Heh. Stole 'em from Affery, our head pyro. She's a pretty good girl. Doubt she'd mind you havin' 'em too much. Not that she needs to know about it, or anything like that." He winked at Russel, thrilled when the boy's gaunt face allowed a small smile to flit across it. That was more like it. That was what he wanted to see more of. "Hm... think I have some that'd fit you somewhere. Be right back." He strode out, leaving Russel in the room. The scout sank to the floor against the wall, still trembling. He was still quite weak, and that sudden adrenaline burst had taken a lot out of him. His head was beginning to throb, too, and he couldn't help but wonder about his ma, and how she was. He hadn't written to her in so long, and she'd probably been told that he was MIA. He'd been trying not to worry about her; she was a strong lady, but he was her only kid. Other than him, she was all alone. Maybe... nah. Eh, might as well ask him when he came back... couldn't hurt to try, right?

After Beryl had returned with a shirt that hung off of his thin figure and a pair of pants that were at least three sizes too big (thankfully he had a belt, although they had to punch another hole in it), Russel lay on the engineer's sofa, resting, and trying to summon his courage.

"Hey, uh, Beryl?" The engineer jumped, seeming surprised by the boy's voice.

"Yeah? What's the matter? You okay?" He sounded so genuinely concerned, that the scout again wondered if maybe he really was trustworthy. That would be nice.

"Do- do you think I could write to my ma? Ya know, so she knows I ain't six feet under?" Beryl's eyes widened.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, didn't even think about that. Uh, the train passes through here every other week, so it should be here 'n bout three days, I think." Russel breathed a sigh of relief. Not only had he not gotten hit for asking, he'd been given permission!

He wasn't entirely sure what to write, so he just decided to keep it short and sweet.

"Dear Ma,

Guess what? I'm alive! I can't tell you where I am, but I'm okay for now, so don't worry about me. I miss you.

Love, Russel"

He frowned at it. It sounded cold and impersonal, but it would have to do for now.


A/N: Thank you all for reading, and for your kind reviews!

~The name Affery is an Arabic girl's name meaning blue, and the name Mer is the French word for "sea." I thought that was fitting, because he's the blue spy, and the sea is blue (duh, Alex), and the sea is cruel... yay for metaphors. I have a thing for names- when I was little, I had this baby name book, and even though I couldn't read very well, I loved that book. Now, I have quite a few name books. This year for Christmas, my mom gave me three baby name books, and she got me a Maori name book when she went to New Zealand.

~Haha, my rat Fannie just ran by me with a piece of chocolate that she found in my room somewhere... so cute.

Ok, thank you again for reading! I'll update as soon as I can, so let me know what you think!

*many thanks to soundofmadness223*

~alex~