The Scout pulled his shirt over his head, getting dressed somewhat sleepily. He rubbed his eyes and reached for his pants, brushing some of the dirt and dust off of them. He felt unclean, and his clothes were a mess. He discarded the bandages around his knuckles, then reached for some clean ones. They were bleeding. Why were they all bloody now? And they hurt. But why were they…
Someone held him down. He couldn't move, couldn't scream. He struggled, but his attacker was just too strong…
He ripped the bandage off the roll and finished wrapping his knuckles, and then he slipped on his socks and shoes. He brushed himself off and slung his bag over his shoulder, his scattergun in hand. He felt so sluggish and slow, a dangerous thing for a runner to be feeling. And he felt so tired, like he hadn't slept in days. But why? Nothing had changed. He wasn't on morphine again. All he had done was curl up with his Engie.
Hands pulled his shirt up over his face, then over his arms, like a shoddy set of restraints.
"Woah, Tucker, you look like hell."
The Sniper was the one who spoke, breaking the Scout out of his little world. Everyone else was ready to go, now staring at their unusually late arrival. The Scout blinked and rubbed his eyes again. The Engineer looked at him, concern not exactly hidden behind his features.
"I'm fine. Just… didn't sleep well last night."
His pants were around his ankles, and someone was keeping him down. He felt the ground beneath him.
Fingers snapping in front of his face, causing him to jump back, stumble, and land flat on his ass with a yelp. Before anyone could move in to help him up, the bell rang. The match had begun. The Scout hopped to his feet and ran out the door.
It was normal, or rather, normal by any other standards. In and out three times, the RED team seemed content to just let the Scout run in and steal their intel. He thought nothing of it, his mind in a bit of a fog. He was barely aware of what had been going on until the bell rang at the end of the day to end it. Without a second glance to any other member of the crew, he retreated into his room and closed the door, lying on his bed – fully clothed.
Someone was on top of him, laughing in his ear. Someone was speaking in a voice he knew, a voice he understood and trusted. Someone kissed him, then bit and chewed almost playfully on his lips.
"Anyone notice that Tucker was a little…out of it today?"
The Sniper was the one who brought it up, though everyone had been thinking it.
"He was out of it, and his clothes were a mess." Came notes from the Pyro – Stu – as he removed his gasmask.
"He looked...tired."
It was the Engineer who had spoken up. That alone caused a silence to settle amongst them. Something had changed in their Scout just overnight. Their Scout, who would normally be here with the rest of them, talking, taking a healthy amount of abuse and teasing, was in his own room. Sleeping, probably. He should have been with his Engineer, all puppy-like and defensive.
But he wasn't.
The Scout closed his eyes after staring at the door for ten minutes. He kicked his shoes onto the floor and curled around his pillow.
He felt a hand on his shoulder.