[[i'm happy with how this chapter turned out. hope you are, too.]]
Sniper decided not to eat breakfast out of courtesy, not wanting to tempt Scout, since he wasn't allowed to eat before he went to see Medic. It was a nice sentiment. Scout pulled on his uniform pants, uniform shirt. Baseball cap, tags, socks and shoes. He might not be capturing points that day, but he was still about to face battle. He hadn't been hanging onto Sniper while walking places for almost a week, fully independent and capable of getting around without help, but instead he walked shoulder to shoulder with the sharpshooter, clutching at his arm. Sniper tried to pretend that his hands weren't shaking. Scout pretended not to notice. They walked into the base as a single unit, moving steadily and with purpose. They didn't rush or hurry. They still had time before Scout was supposed to be there, after all, so they had no need to make haste. Instead, they just walked.
At the turn towards the residential hall Sniper paused for a second. "…D'you wanna go see your room?" Sniper asked. "Pick anything up?"
Scout thought about it. "…Nah. I don't need anything outta there. An' there's not really much for me to see anyways." He tried to go for a joking tone, but the words felt a little dry in his mouth.
Sniper just hummed, and began walking again.
At the junction of the hallway, one hall leading towards the medical bay, the other towards the common areas, Sniper paused. There was the sound of life down the second hall, off to the left. Everyone would be awake and eating breakfast, probably.
"Do ya wanna say anythin' to the rest'a the blokes?" Sniper asked, and Scout knew what he really meant. He was asking if Scout wanted to say goodbyes to the rest of the team just in case he didn't make it. If he had last words for any of them.
Scout was still for a little while, face turned to the hall, contemplating… well, everything. All the time he'd spent with the team. Everything they'd done for him, everything they hadn't. He considered how he'd been living his life all this time. He wondered, for the briefest moment, if he'd been honest with all of them; and if he hadn't been, would he be honest now? Was there anything important left? Any truth left to tell them?
"No," he finally said. "I don't have anything to say that they don't already know, yeah?"
Sniper didn't reply to that, just continuing down the hallway.
Scout knew when they reached the medbay even before Sniper stopped. Neither of them spoke for a few long moments, the only sound the faint hum of generators and other machinery within the depths of the base.
"Are ya scared?" Sniper asked, head turning towards Scout.
"Y'know, I thought I would be," Scout replied. "Figured I'd be real freaked out. But… I dunno. Had a weird dream. Thought about some stuff. And… I ain't scared, now. Just kinda… calm. Relaxed. That's pretty weird, huh?"
Sniper hummed. Scout thought for a moment.
"…Are you?" he finally asked. "Scared?"
Sniper barked out a laugh. "Crikey, nearly t'death," Sniper replied, voice a bit reedy. Scout moved from holding onto his arm to instead squeeze his hand. "An' I'm not even the one who might kark it. I mean, it should be me comforting you, shouldn't it? Not the other way 'round."
"Eh," Scout shrugged, "I was never one for doin' things the right way."
"Yeah," Sniper said, and there was the sound of a grin in his voice. "Still got about fifteen minutes 'til the Doc expects ya t'show. Anythin' you wanna do? Places you wanna go?"
Scout shook his head, resolve steeling somewhere in his chest. "Nah. I'm… I'm ready."
"CADET!"
Scout's head spun, turning around to look behind him, as suddenly the sound of boots thunking against the ground hit his ears. "Huh? Helmet-head?" Scout asked, confused. "What—?"
He was suddenly pulled into a choke hold, a hand snatching off his hat to muss up his hair, the sound of vaguely drunken laughter meeting his ears. "Aye, an' me as well, laddie!" Demo called from his place just behind him, letting Scout go and putting his hat back on good-naturedly.
"I am also 'ere, although I will deny associating with zem," Spy said from nearby.
"The whole team, in fact, minus the good Doctor," Engie piped up, approaching. Pyro made a sound of agreement, and Heavy rumbled. "Thought you could get away from us without sayin' nothin', did you, son? Ain't that easy, boy, you should know better."
"Indeed! We refuse to let you enter that room without approval—that would be desertion, the only proper punishment for which is a swift but humiliating death!" Soldier barked.
There was another rumble of agreement. "Heavy will not let leetle Scout see Doktor until he has seen rest of team, too," the giant said, and Scout turned his head back and forth around the now-crowded waiting area. Sniper had taken a step back once they showed up, but was stood at his shoulder now, calm as ever.
Scout struggled with words for a minute. "Sheesh, guys, I…" he tried, but he trailed off. "Come on, have some faith in the Doc, wouldja? I'll be fine!"
"Did not come to say goodbyes," Heavy said, resting a hand on Scout's shoulder as gently as possible, but his hand was still rather weighty despite the effort. "Came only to wish good luck. Leetle Scout is not baby, he always fight. He will not die so easy. Takes more to kill him than most think, da? Heavy does not worry."
Scout had to swallow back a lump in his throat. "Geez, big guy, really layin' that sappiness on thick, huh?" he managed to laugh. "Gonna make the Cyclops cry, over here."
Heavy just laughed, stepping back. Scout heard the Scot in question take his spot.
"Nae, lad, no waterworks for ye jus' yet," Demo said, hitting him on the arm, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to make Scout grin. "An' none'a his mushy nonsense, 'm not so good with words 'less they're curses. I'll jus' give ye all the good luck I've got ta spare. I'm no wizard, so I can't promise it'll help, but I'd bet me last bottle that it's still worth somethin'. See ya soon, laddie."
Scout nodded at him, and Demo stepped aside.
"Cadet!" Soldier barked, and Scout stood up straight out of reflex. "You are about to enter a battle, a sort of battle that none of us on this team have so far seen, and I must say, the odds of your survival are looking very, very grim!"
Scout's grin faltered. "Uh…"
"Grimmer than ever, in fact! Grimmer than grim! The grimmest!"
Scout turned his head towards Sniper, who he felt just shrugging in response. "Uh."
"I for one do not forsee this procedure ending with anything except a body bag! A very short, very thin bodybag!"
"You are not 'elping, monsieur," Spy said from one side.
"So instead I have come to offer reassurance and guidance in this, your darkest hour!"
"I do not feel reassured," Scout said warily.
"Now, with the odds stacked so high against you, you might see there being no hope left! But I am here to say, no, sir, not today!" He heard the telltale click of shoes coming together that heralded Soldier moving to stand at attention. "When things looked bad in Gettysburg, Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain did not give up! Instead, he and Abraham Lincoln charged those dirty greys with their god-given bayonets and won the whole stinkin' Civil War!"
"Is that whot really happened?" Sniper asked Demo quietly. Demo made a noncommittal noise, bottle sloshing as he took a swig.
"When Alexander the Great fought the Battle of Issus, all the way across a river and uphill through the battlefield to go up against the Persians, he did not hesitate! He was decisive! He was aggressive! Their horses ran down those damn Persians like nobody's business!"
"I think that there is the closest he's ever been to accurately citing actual historical events," Engie murmured to Spy.
"I cannot believe it, but it appears he is actually… helping?" Spy said slowly.
"And so in this battle, no matter how bad things look, do not give up, cadet!" Soldier concluded, voice ringing loud. "I do not give you permission to die! Fight across the river and uphill to win this Civil War! We're all counting on you, son! Do us all proud!"
Scout was left stunned for a moment, but finally, he smiled. He found himself standing up straight, heels clicked together, raising a hand up into a crisp salute, learned when he was a kid from his grandfather, the veteran. Soldier seemed satisfied by the gesture and grin, moving aside. Scout let his hand drop as someone else stepped into place.
Spy didn't speak for a few seconds. "I will only state the obvious, as you often seem to miss it," he finally said, voice dry. "Do not die. It would be very inconvenient for ze rest of us. We would need to move all of your things and get a new Scout, and I can only imagine with our luck, 'e would some'ow be even more bratty and annoying."
Sniper stiffened at his side and Scout moved to lightly elbow him, otherwise not outwardly reacting to the words, keeping his expression impassive.
"I, for one, do not want to 'ave to go through ze trouble. Miss Pauling would undoubtedly blame us, perhaps particularly me, for your death. That would be irritating to say the least." Spy moved in a way that suggested he was gesturing at Scout. No, probably pointing for emphasis. Scout couldn't even see it. He was just being dramatic. "It is not difficult to understand, but I will repeat myself regardless. Don't die."
Scout didn't reply for a second, then he extended one hand in front of him, calmly, without fanfare. A beat of pause fell over the hall, and finally, Spy accepted the handshake, one firm movement, resolute.
"See ya, Spy," Scout said with a nod.
Spy didn't reply. He released Scout's hand and moved away.
Engie sauntered into place. "Well, I don't have much to say that these here folks haven't already said," he drawled, just a little awkwardly. "But I may as well make like a bad record, I suppose." A hand on his shoulder. "Best'a luck, son. You'll be fine. You always somehow manage to bounce back, no matter how hard you get thrown. You just keep gettin' back on that horse, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. An' no matter what happens, know that we're all real proud'a you."
Scout nodded, and accepted a brief embrace from the Texan, who then promptly stepped back to allow the final of the mercs to move into place.
He heard the muffled sniffles even before they finished changing out and felt a stab of sadness, frowning.
"Aww, Mumbles," he said, and then he was practically tackled, lifted into the air by the pyromaniac, who was sobbing openly now, nearly in hysterics.
They babbled on completely incoherently, sounding inconsolable. Engie was about to step in when Scout spoke.
"Oh, come on, none'a that!" he scolded, tapping them on the head, and Pyro put him down reluctantly, still clearly crying in earnest, words made all the more unintelligible for the grief and tears. He put his hands on their shoulders, straightened them up. "Hey. Look at me. Look, I'm gonna be okay, alright? No cryin', you'll make Engie cry too, an' then everyone'll be cryin', an' we're all grown-ass men here, Pyro, nobody wants to see that. It's all gonna work out alright, I'll be fine. So you gotta keep your chin up, alright?"
A few more sniffles, then some sort of dampened, weepy affirmation.
"Hey, an' if I don't make it," he said, leaning in, voice lowering so that the others couldn't properly hear him, "I've decided you've gotta be the new funny one, okay? Someone's gotta keep this place lively, right? An' usually that's my thing. Don't let 'em get mucked down, no matter what. They'll need someone around to cheer 'em up if I don't end up makin' it, an' you're the best person for the job. Keep the flame goin'. It's what you do best, pal."
A sniffle, a shift that Scout interpreted as a nod.
"An', also, if somethin' happens," Scout said, and his eyes crinkled with humor, "I'm Irish-Catholic. I'll have to get cremated. So even if I get shipped back home, go and make sure they don't fuck it up somehow, okay? I'm countin' on you."
Pyro sniffled some more, but pulled Scout into a hug, nearly squeezing the air out of him. He returned the hug, patting them on the back reassuringly. After a few moments they finally pulled away, and made off down the hallway. Engie followed, and Soldier and Demo. There was a pause, Heavy lingering for a moment. Scout knew Spy was probably still standing there too. He didn't hear his footsteps leaving, at the very least.
"Leetle man is brave," Heavy finally said appraisingly.
Scout shrugged. "I guess."
"Is not goodbye," Heavy said firmly, "Doktor would not let you die. Is too good at being Doktor. No reason to say goodbyes." And he did very nearly sound like he believed it. Scout appreciated the effort, and had enough of a heart that he pretended to fall for it.
"I know," Scout nodded. "I'm no good at goodbyes anyways. How 'bout we just go with a "See you later"—that's way easier, an' it's also kinda funny, y'know? Since next time you see me, I'll have my eyes back an' all."
Heavy rumbled a laugh. "Yes. Will see you later," he agreed.
And then Heavy was leaving, and after a moment, a second pair of footsteps followed him away.
Silence between him and Sniper. Scout wasn't sure for how long.
"Why'd ya tell the firebug that?" Sniper finally asked curiously. "Didn't think you two were that friendly."
"Not really, no," Scout said, shrugging. "But they always act like they're best friends with everyone, don't they? An' I meant it—someone's gotta keep you guys on your toes. Pyro's easily the best one for the job, no contest."
"Mm-hmm." A few steady heartbeats passed, thrumming in Scout's fingertips. "Cremated, huh?"
"Yeah. Just figured I'd tell someone. It's definitely in my file, but I gotta be sure. Just in case. But I won't need burned, I'll be alright."
"Do you believe that?" Sniper asked, turning to face Scout, and there was nothing guarded in his voice, just genuine curiosity.
Scout nodded. "I really do. I mean, after Spy's inspirational speech, how could I not?" he joked, turning to Sniper, eyes crinkling.
Sniper huffed a laugh, elbowing him. Scout grinned. "Is this really a time for jokes?" Sniper chided.
"Always. Die as I live, y'know? Laughing."
He and Sniper stood in the hallway before the medbay, only maybe a foot apart, and they had an understanding. Unspoken, something they both knew without a doubt. But neither could figure out how to say it.
So Scout didn't speak.
Instead, he moved a hand up toward his own head, pulling his hat off, slipping his dog tags from around his neck. He put his hat back on, and took Sniper's wrist, pulling it so his hand was palm-up, before carefully putting the war-worn pieces of tin in his palm.
Questions hung sedentary in the air, statements, phrases, confessions. Scout tried to wade through them as best he could, let words fall from his mouth.
"Just in case," he said quietly. Sniper was frozen. Scout couldn't even hear him breathing. "You're in charge of getting these back to me once I'm done, okay? I—I don't want the Doc to lose 'em or nothin', the infirmary is always a mess. He'd definitely lose 'em somewhere."
Sniper didn't speak. Scout trained his eyes somewhere around Sniper's chest, grip tensing just a bit, just enough.
"An', an' you've gotta make sure you get these back to me safe, alright? You know how I get when I don't have 'em. So—so be careful. Chain's already broken before. Try not to let that happen again, or… well, actually, if it happens, you already know how to fix it I guess. Still, don't break 'em. An' don't worry, I'll be okay in there, I'll just be—be super mad if you lose 'em, okay? So—so um, just… keep these safe."
Scout finally stopped talking, closing his mouth, moving his other hand to close Sniper's around the tags silently.
"I will," Sniper said solemnly, words carrying the weight of understanding. "I promise." An exhale, the jingle of the chain, the soft thump of the tags against Sniper's chest. Then he took Scout's hand, holding him in place for just a moment longer, delaying the moment that Scout would need to walk through that door, if only for just a little longer. A little longer is all they wanted. A little longer.
Scout's heartbeat thrummed steadily in his chest. He wasn't afraid of what lay on the other side of that door for him. He was ready. Sniper seemed to see it, or sense it, because after a few moments he seemed to steady, to calm. Find his own courage somewhere in Scout's expression.
Then suddenly, he spoke. "I—I want to cash in the favor," he said. "The favor you owe me."
Scout couldn't help but smile. "Yeah? What's the request? I'm kind of on a limited time frame here, got an appointment comin' up," he said.
Sniper hesitated. "I—well, awright, I s'pose it's two requests. But the first one of 'em should be easy, accordin' to you."
Scout just nodded, waiting. Sniper inhaled, exhaled.
"You come back safe, y'hear me? I'll have no choice but to hate you otherwise," Sniper said, earnest, and Scout's smile widened.
"Done an' done," Scout said assuredly. "I will. What's the second thing?"
"Promise you won't be mad at me for this," Sniper said, words all in a rush, and Scout could hear him grimacing at himself.
Scout blinked, raised his eyebrows. "Uh. Mad? For what?" he asked slowly, face going a bit concerned, smile fallen away.
"I… I can't tell you that. Jus'—jus' promise," Sniper said, practically a plea, and his hands around Scout's smaller one were a bit fidgety, twitchy.
Scout only hesitated for a second. "Alright. I promise," he said, nodding once, confidently. He trusted Sniper. He really did.
"Okay. Thank you," Sniper said, anxious, breathless, and then he kissed him.
Scout pretty much short-circuited. He froze up, eyes surely wide, uninhibited by sunglasses. The impulsive press of lips only lasted for a second or two, but it felt much longer, left him with his lungs mysteriously empty, the inside of his ribcage buzzing not unlike a trapped bird, but there wasn't any pain with this one. Just a hammering pulse, a weightlessness in his muscles, a dizziness in his skull.
Then Sniper dared, had the audacity, the gall, the absolute fucking nerve to release his hands, to step away and break into a brisk walk, trying to flee the scene before—
"Fuckin' excuse you," Scout said, dashing after him, grabbing the back of his vest and whirling him around, taking him by the front of the shirt and giving him a fiery glare. "You can't just do that and walk away, Casanova! Who the hell do you think you are!?"
"M'sorry," Sniper managed to choke out, his voice tight, arms rising in surrender, tensed and preparing for a verbal or physical barrage.
"Uh, yeah, you better be! You gotta give me time to react, slick!" Scout said, and he yanked Sniper down by the collar, kicked up to stand on his tiptoes, and kissed him right back.
His aim wasn't perfect; he ended up kissing at the side of Sniper's mouth, but the moment Sniper came to his senses, he corrected it.
Sniper was warmth, and safety, and unsweetened coffee, and aftershave, and old records, and magazines, and quiet, the friendly kind of quiet. Sniper was a strong arm around his shoulders and waking up peacefully and genuine, if awkward, words of compassion. Sniper was coming back and resting after jumping rope and half-remembered song lyrics and snippets of good memories that he hadn't bothered with for a while. Sniper was trust. Safety. Protection.
And he really did like Scout.
Then Scout pulled away, plopped back onto his heels. He wished he could see Sniper's expression, but he knew that if he could, then (ironically enough) none of this would've happened. He also knew that he had to leave, now, before either of them could rope themselves into staying, before the fear caught up to them.
Much like ripping off a bandage, it really fucking hurt, but it had to happen.
So, "I'll see you later, Snipes," he said, pushing himself back. And he turned and walked into the medbay.
The door closed behind him, and he leaned on it, still breathless, still stunned, but rapidly coming back down to earth again. He couldn't let this distract him just then—he could celebrate later. He needed to be alert, just for a little bit. So he committed the moment to memory, and filed it away for safekeeping.
He almost jumped when Medic spoke up.
"Done vith your heartwarming moment? I could hear Soldier shouting from in here," he said, sounding surprisingly casual considering the circumstances. But Medic had never been one to stress over doing surgeries—instead, he stressed over pretty much everything else. And even if he was worried, he was too much of a professional to show it. He moved to take Scout by the arm, leading him briskly through the infirmary. "I vould appreciate if he had more confidence in my abilities, but unfortunately, he is not entirely inaccurate."
Scout's eyebrows furrowed as he hesitantly moved to sit on the operating table.
"I have already told you before. Zhere is risk here. I have no way of knowing vhen Respawn is turned off for any individual, und vith your lower body mass percentage, you are even furzzer at risk of dying in zhis operation," Medic said, the very exemplar of brutal honesty. "I vill not give you numbers, because I do not vish to discourage you. But understand zhat if you have changed your mind, und vish to simply resign as our Scout, I vill not blame you, nor vill I shame you or allow ozzers to do so. I vill make something up. I vill say you contracted amnesia und were forced to return home, or zhat you needed a kidney from ein Bruder, or I could simply find some random cadaver und claim you died in ze operation if you so vish. There is no shame in self-preservation."
Scout didn't dwell on the words. He simply shook his head. "No way, Doc. Not happenin'," he said firmly.
"If you vant to simply go into battle as you are now und hope for a miracle, you could. I vould not stop you. I could claim zhat it did not vork."
"No," Scout said before Medic could continue. "I'm doin' this."
Medic paused. "…Alles klar," he finally murmured. "I suppose ve can start zhe procedure. If you vould lie back on zhe table und remove anything on your torso or arms, bitte."
Scout just nodded, and cold dread settled in his stomach as he pulled his t-shirt off, lying back. The table was cold. His mouth felt dry.
Medic began to move his equipment, setting up his station with a nearly mechanical efficiency, adjusting the height of the table, wheeling carts into place, clicking on equipment. But then he paused in his brisk movements for a second. "For ze record, I vill not be saying any sort of goodbye," Medic said, after what Scout deduced to be a moment of contemplation. "Especially considering I do not intend to simply let you die. Zhat vould be admitting defeat before zhe battle has begun, und I am not zhe sort to give up so easily. For zhat reason, no farewells—not from me, nor from you. Understood, Junge?"
Scout nodded, inhaled, exhaled. "Yeah. Okay," he said.
"Now, it is a bit redundant to ask zhis now, but… are you ready?" Medic asked.
It was, perhaps, his very last chance to back out. His last chance to walk away, to change his mind. If he continued forward, there would be no going back again. Nowhere to run or retreat. On the battlefield, that was a Scout's worst nightmare. But this wasn't the usual battlefield, these consequences would last until the end of his life, or maybe they would be the cause of it. This choice meant something. For the first time in a long time, his choice actually meant something.
So Scout said, "As ready as I'll ever be."
[[i almost titled the chapter "this is it", but felt like keeping the one-word theme going. that said... this is it.
a quick thanks to everyone who leaves reviews—you guys make my day, i really appreciate it. you're the best]]
