A/N:

(Just a quick shout-out to a guest going by 'MANN'- thank you for such a sweet review (I can't reply to directly to guest reviews)! I'm so happy you're enjoying this story so much. The kind words really warmed up what was a really cold morning in the UK. :) Also, it was the first time anybody's wished me a Happy Thanksgiving, so thank you so much again and I hope you have the same! Eat all that turkey on my behalf!)

Onto the story:


The next minute felt like an eternity for the young Bostonian. His heart fluttered and quickened as he heard the shuffling of her feet take their first steps into the room. He couldn't even bare the thought of looking at her, in this very moment. He just knew that this was going to be so awkward, and if one of his team-mates let slip about what Sniper saw, he wasn't ever going to hear the end of it for a very long time.

He kept preparing himself for the inevitable, eyes glued permanently to the desk beneath him as his ears stayed alert for the explosion he was convinced would happen.

"Oh, Miss Pauling! You look a little tired. Something keep you up last night?"

"Guys- come on! Don't-"

"I'm pretty sure we all know it wasn't something that kept her up last night, but someone..."

And suddenly, all eyes turned onto Scout, and he froze in fear. He could actually feel the blood draining from his face and his complexion had taken on a comical shade of white.

It also took a few seconds for it to click into Miss Pauling's mind, who up till that point was just puzzled. But when the realisation dawned on her as it did Scout, she quickly brought up her hand to her mouth, bashfully trying to shield her face from the spectating crowd.

When Scout finally did summon the courage to look at Miss Pauling in the eye, she had already beaten him with a look of disbelief.

"What did you tell them?!"

Oh god, no. This is bad. "I- I said nothing!"

"Yeah, like I'm going to believe that!"

"Miss Pauling, I swear, it wasn't me!"

"How do they know?!"

A few snickers from the group and a barely suppressed laugh from Spy.

"It's okay, you two. Your secret is safe with the rest of us."

"Scout, I can't believe you would-"

He quickly rose from his chair. "I didn't! I swear to you I didn't!"

But it was too late. She was already storming away.

"No, Miss Pauling! Please, wait up! Let me explain!" He tried to follow after her, but before he could follow her out the door, Pyro busted in out of nowhere with his flamethrower pointed directly at the young man.

He froze again.

And before he could think of a nice way to ask Pyro to step aside, the masked arsonist had already gone ahead and ignited his weapon. Right in his face.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-!"

He scrambled, his hands desperately trying to get a grip of the closest object to him. He had thought that maybe, he could harness it into a temporary blunt weapon. Just something to knock the Pyro out for a few moments. However, as he struggled and struggled, his hands came to nothing but a flat surface beneath him.

He scratched and writhed some more, but would only find purchase on that same flat surface.

Okay, surely one of his team-mates would step in to intervene, right? He knew they were all a little bit wrong in the head, granted, but one of them had to value his life for whatever it was, right?

Wrong.

Much to his dismay, a chorus of laughter erupted from the rest of the group instead. But this time, it all sounded a little blurry. Scout wasn't sure if it was his state of panic that did this, or that perhaps the fire had reached the insides of his ears and damaged his hearing.

Yet as he kept struggling, the wave of laughter from the group became softer and softer. Soft... Just like what he kept clawing at. Quite soft, actually. It was almost... pleasant.

Wait, wasn't he supposed to be burning to a crisp?

"PYRO, NO!"

He jolted upright with another scream. His heart was beating right out of his chest and he was panting heavily, sucking in each breath with a ragged and uneven pace. His body felt damp and cold.

The next thing Scout noticed was that he was no longer in the room with his team-mates. Instead, he was greeted with the plain and dull walls of what appeared to be a very small cubicle. When he realised this, his struggling hands slowed to a halt. It was also then he realised that what he had been scratching all this time were the bedsheets beneath him.

"Wha-" His groggy mind couldn't seem to make sense of any of this. "Where am I?"

Then the door suddenly swung wide open.

"Who's there?!" He jumped at the sound, quickly assuming a combative stance from where he sat on the narrow bed.

What greeted him next was a mildly odd look from Miss Pauling. "Just me..."

"Miss Pauling?" He couldn't believe his eyes. "Is that really you?"

She walked over and pinched his cheek. Hard.

"Ow! Hey-! What was that for?!"

She bore no semblance of remorse. "There, you're not dreaming."

He froze once more as his brain tried to make sense of his surroundings. It looked like the sun was beginning to set and Scout wondered just how long he had been out cold. It also occurred to him that he never remembered passing out or falling asleep in the first place. And the last he remembered of his day today, it was still bright and early in the morning.

"Drink this." Miss Pauling held out a glass of water to him and gratefully, he clasped it in his shaking fingers, downing its contents in a matter of seconds. He was still panting.

"What happened exactly?"

"Well..." She trailed off with a sigh. Scout could tell this wasn't going to be a short story.