A few days ago, sudden inspiration for this chapter hit me in the head like a baseball. I started writing it right after I finished chapter 11, and I have to say, I'm quite pleased with it. Very pleased with it. It's only one scene, and it's sort of a filler chapter, but it deserved its own chapter. Hope all my readers like it!

Draggggg. Pause. Draggggg. Pause.

Spy had been following the sound for quite a while now-and the faint trail of blood on the floor. He was wary of BLUs, jumping whenever he heard the dragging noise, but no one had even seen them for a day now. Anywhere. They simply vanished off the face of the planet. Now it was down to his not-so-expert tracking skills to find who-or what-was making that noise. He couldn't help but feel a slight anticipation. Perhaps the sickly dragging noise and trail of blood belonged to one of his teammates. He had only come across Engie and Heavy a few hours ago. The large Russian was playing doctor, and looked utterly ridiculous checking for signs of frostbite.

Still, despite the sick worrying Spy felt, he trekked onward. The trail had started clear outside, which made it all the more curious. Who would be fool enough to go outside? And why would they even attempt it? His thoughts were interrupted as his shoe nudged something on the floor.

Recognition flashed in Spy's eyes as he picked up the soaking wet, nearly destroyed, brown hat. His stomach dropped to his feet at the same time his heart leapt into his throat, a torrent of shocked and worried emotions running through him. This wasn't just some hat. It was the bushman Sniper's signature. He never recalled a time the Australian had ever abandoned it, not even while staring into the eyes of death. Spy clutched the ice-cold hat in his hands, then stood up and frantically hastened his pace, going as fast as his lanky legs would allow.

He stopped dead as he rounded a corner, staring goggle-eyed at the crumpled form of Sniper, still dragging himself across the floor. An absolutely nauseated feeling rose up inside of him, that feeling you get after seeing something so horrifying you can't even speak. You can't even react. No matter how much you want to look away, you can't, and can only sit while your stomach does backflips. Spy was frozen like that, a statue, staring at his friend.

"S-spookie…? S'that you…?" Sniper croaked, words slurring together. Spy was shaken out of his trance-like state as he heard the Australian's rough, weak voice. He moved closer, growing sicker to the stomach when he saw the way Sniper's legs were bent, soaked in blood and melting snow. He was abnormally pale, shivering uncontrollably, and when Spy reached out to touch his wrist it was ice-cold to the touch.

"I'm here, mon ami," Spy said, unsure if Sniper felt his hand. Sniper blinked slowly, no expression on his face.

"R-respawn's'not workin', is it," Sniper mumbled, voice growing weaker the longer he spoke. Spy shook his head, but wondered if his teammate had seen it-or if he could see at all.

"Non, but do not worry about that. I'll go find the Medic and you'll be alright!" Spy answered, making to stand up. Sniper emitted a hoarse, rasping sort of noise and Spy realized with horror that he was…laughing.

"Don't…don't go bug th'Doc…" he muttered, a ghost of a smile flickering briefly across his face. "I know how far I'm gone…Don't try'n lie ta me…Don't ya ever think you can lie t'me, Spook," Spy sighed, sinking back to the floor and leaning against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. They sat in silence for a few, painfully drawn out moments, only interrupted by Sniper's slow, labored, raspy breathing.

"Never thought I'd die this way…" he said, jerking Spy out of another trance. "I'd always thought…one day I'd drive ya too far up th'wall…and ya'd sneak up an' just back stab me…" Spy's eyes widened, but he knew the statement was true. Sniper drove him absolutely mad, but now he stopped to think what he'd do without him. The constant pestering, the wild shouting and insulting of each other's nationality. He'd convinced himself he hated Sniper, and yet here they were now.

"I probably would 'ave killed you some way or another…it looks like you couldn't wait, though," he said, the edges of his mouth turning upward. Sniper grinned slightly at the comment.

"Guess…so…" he muttered, trying to shift from his awkward belly-down position, yelping with pain and collapsing back down. "Spook…" he gasped, eyes wide. Spy had immediately jumped up and bent over him.

"What is it…what is it?!" He shouted frantically. Sniper wheezed for a long time before responding.

"I don't wanna go out like this…" he gasped, still heaving slow breaths.

"Okay, then I'll go and get the Medic. End of story," Spy said, making to stand up again.

"N-no," Sniper croaked, reaching out his discolored, shaking hand. Spy turned to gaze down at him, the same horrified feeling as before welling up.

"K-kill me…now…" the Australian groaned, letting his hand drop limply to the floor as if the act of lifting it had drained all his energy. Hearing this, Spy's eyes bugged out of his head.

"N-no, I-I-I won't!" He shrieked shrilly, throwing his hands into the air and listening to his voice echoing away. Sniper stared blankly at the floor.

"It's either that, or watch as I suffer a slow…painful death. My legs are broken, I think one of my lungs has collapsed…yet my heart's still beatin'…" He explained, slowly setting his gaze on Spy's face above him. "If there were anyone I'd want to do this…it'd be you…Spookie…"

Spy frowned, caught in the ethical dilemma. He didn't want to be the one to murder his own teammate. Nor did he want to watch Sniper suffer-it was nearly unbearable to listen to the sound of his breathing, growing slower and more labored each minute. He reached down, fingering the hilt of his revolver, biting his lip.

"I…I don't know if I can…" Spy said, sliding his back down the wall and burying his face in his gloved hands. Sniper glanced up sympathetically.

"Y'know…mate…ya always claimed ya absolutely hated me. Right now, you're making me believe that," he mumbled, closing his eyes. "So why don't ya prove it wrong. Fulfill a dying man's last wish," Spy lifted his face from his hands slowly and robotically, reaching down for the revolver at his side and turning it over in his hands.

"There's still a chance the power will come back on if we wait…" he suggested, a slightly hopeful note in his voice. Sniper groaned quietly at the comment, then spluttered and was sent into a fit of coughing up blood. Spy screwed his eyes shut at the sight of it, now pondering the idea of ending his friend's life.

"We can hope. Wait if you must, I'll just sit 'ere, dyin' in silence," Sniper muttered as soon as he'd stopped coughing. Spy nodded, still twirling the gun in his hands, sitting quietly. He was extremely discontented with the silence. He could hear absolutely everything. But mostly, he could hear the ever failing sound of Sniper's breathing, and watch his chest press against the ground as he inhaled and shudder as he exhaled. He could hear the hammering of his own heart, the howling wind outside, and every little thought that popped into his head perfectly. For a moment, he glanced down at Sniper, sudden panic jolting through him when he didn't see the rise and fall of the Aussie's chest.

"Alright. The dyin' in silence thing…startin' to get on my nerves…" Sniper said after about a minute. Spy released a pent-up burst of air in relief, leaning his head against the wall and staring at the dark ceiling. "So…s'there anything ya want to…talk about? Just for the sake of…talkin'?"

As the question was posed, Spy had to think hard about the answer. He never was one for small talk, but if this was going to be his last time…he supposed he could try.

"When I was growing up in the orphanage…my brother, he was a lot like you," he murmured quietly, eyes fixated on the gun in his hands. Sniper's expression brightened slightly.

"'e must've driven ya up the wall then…" he said, a lighter tone in his voice. Spy nodded.

"Yeah…he did…on more than one occasion…but we usually got along. When we were young, we'd tease the girls at the orphanage, usually by throwing mud at them and pulling weird faces. You know…the things troublesome little boys tend to do," he said, smiling at the thought. "One time…we hid up in a tree all day because the girls were chasing us. We came back after dark and climbed into the building through the window because we thought we were going to get in trouble," Spy continued fondly. "Of course, we got caught. It was not pretty," he glanced down to see Sniper smiling as well.

"You? Throw mud at people…? 'ard to believe…I thought you were such a lady charmer…a silver-tongued devil, wrapped in an enigma and shrouded in mystery or whatever…" he chimed in. Spy pretended to be offended.

"Oh? What about you…I'm sure you've pulled your fair share of pranks-far more repulsive than simple mud…you're Australian," Sniper nodded.

"S'right mate…I am-and I 'ave pulled my fair share of pranks. My dad'd always take me an' my brother out huntin' on the weekends…till he left to go fight in the war. We were terrible at it-we'd always make so much noise, whatever we were tryin' to shoot could hear us a mile away. An' whatever we brought back would make my sister scream in horror. One time we left a fur we'd taken off of an in her bed. You shoulda seen the look on her face…" he drew a shaky breath at the memory. "It's nice…to just talk about…my life…" as he continued, Spy noticed his speech slurring together and his voice dropping considerably.

"S-Sniper? You all right?" He asked, bending over his teammate. Sniper opened his mouth to speak, but was overcome with more fierce coughing, then a yelp with pain. His eyes widened as he stilled, resting on the ground again.

"Spookie…" he said, staring at Spy, goggle-eyed. Spy was already crouching down over his friend.

"I am still here," he said, looking into Sniper's shocked eyes.

"S-spook…" the Aussie mumbled, still watching Spy's face. It seemed as though he were staring right through Spy, as if he were a ghost.

"I…I'm not leaving…I'm still here," Spy murmured, placing his hand over Sniper's, which was still ice-cold.

"Sppoo…k-kill mme-e…" there was genuine fear in his whispery voice this time, and worry in his eyes that were glazing over. Spy could see it, Sniper was falling away. He looked down, the revolver still in his hands. "Dying…m-man's wwishhh…"

Spy gripped the hilt of the revolver tighter. This truly was Sniper's desire. He couldn't bear to watch his friend suffering, just because he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger on the gun. Slowly, almost robotically, he switched the safety of the gun off.

"It…it was nice to talk with you," he said, voice breaking, blinking the tears out of his eyes. Sniper looked up, smiling a wide, reassuring smile.

"Nice…talkin' with…ya'too…"

Spy's heart was hammering as he held the revolver pointed at Sniper's head.

"Adieu…mon ami,"

"Adieu, mate,"