Mikhail collapsed onto his knees as he respawned, breathing hard and dry heaving a few times. There was a buzz in his ears and in his head as he tried to piece together what happened and what he felt as he died. His mind, still jumbled from the intense pain he felt was unable to come with any rational thought at all. As it turned out, he wouldn't have to.

"Good to see you back, big guy."

Mikhail looked up slowly and saw the scout tossing a ball from hand to hand casually, a playful smirk on his face.

"What…happen?" Mikhail asked, barely remembering to pretend that he wasn't fluent in English.

"Medic tried to stab Engie with his new toy. That or Pyro, we really couldn't get a single English word outta Doc. Anyway, you got in the way and you got hit instead. 'Pparently he got a new weapon. Some kinda saw with a shot thingie in the middle. Filled the shot with this pain giving radiation or sumthin' like that." Scout said, pocketing the ball and walking over to the Russian.

"So, normally I would gloat and say I told you so, but ya know, I'm awesome and won't." Scout bragged, that smirk not leaving his face.

"Brag about what? You right about what?" Mikhail asked dubiously, his mind still jumbled and unable to process the runner's speedy subject change.

"Figure it out, big guy. Oh, and you missed battle."

"I what!?" Mikahil exclaimed in shock.

"Actually, we kinda skipped." Scout corrected. "Betcha we're gunna be chewed out for that, but we had to take care of shit before Doc went insane for real like Pyro. No offense to Mumbles."

"Skipped…why Medic go crazy?"

"Cuz he killed you. Seriously, dude just lost it, acing like you were never gunna come back."

"Respawn…not take that long."

"Yeah, Engie made sure you were put on hold. He didn't think you'd wanna be there for the huge mess." Scout said, shrugging. Mikhail stared at the runner as he picked himself up.

"Why so…"

"Not serious or freaking out? Oh, because I was right. And everyone said I was full of shit!"

"Right about what?" Mikhail growled, disliking how Scout was being no nonchalant and refusing to tell or explain anything.

"I already said, tough guy. You're gunna have to-"

Mikhail let himself use his height and size intimidate the Bostonian as he towered over him in an intimidating stance.

"You say…now." Mikhail growled.

"…l-look, I really can't…he said I couldn't."

"Who." The Russian demanded.

"M-Medic! He said we couldn't say to anyone ever what happened!" Scout squeaked, growing desperate. Mikhail searched his body language and his eyes and nodded slowly, knowing he was telling the truth.

"Why be secret? Only one not know is me…" Mikhail murmured to himself, putting Sasha away in her place, thinking it over. Scout gulped and regained his steady breathing before speaking.

"Well…maybe you should go talk to him." He suggested.

"Nyet." Mikhail said perhaps a little too quickly. He knew that if he spoke to the German on kind terms ever again, his will to never be friends or feel anything would break. "We not friends."

"Are you convincing me of that, or yourself, big guy?" Scout asked, an edge to his voice where he was suggesting he knew all about Mikhail's internal struggle. Mikhail froze and recalled those same words coming from another far more suave mercenary when being questioned about being more than friends. His mind flashed once more to the hushed conversation between said suave mercenary and his rugged companion. He glanced at the Scout and inspected him closer.

No, there was not much in the ways of physical similarities. They practically were polar opposites. The only thing they shared were the eye shape and color. Spy was a learned man with capabilities to self teach each talent and skill needed. Scout was…not. However, he had an intellect all of his own. No, he was not Aristotle, but he certainly knew how to handle the streets and how to be fast. Now that he thought about it, Scout had snuck up on him several times with precision, and had to make a sound on purpose to catch his attention. Furthermore, he held self confidence and perhaps arrogance just as Spy did. That and both men were stubbornly sure they were always right.

Then there was the correlation to Spy mentioning someone as "his" and that person had a brother who had an untimely death…like Scout. Sniper knew this person well based off the dialogue between them, and Scout had been hanging around the assassin more often than not…

Well, it would not surprise him, now that he thought about it. Why not? The world was strange and rather small.

"You listening to me, big guy?" Scout accused, waving a hand in front of Mikhail's face.

"No. Thinking." He murmured, walking out of respawn. Scout tailed behind him, silent for once as he did so. For all of 30 seconds.

"So, what are you going to do?" he asked, hopping around him a little.

"Get answer." Mikhail responded.

"Good luck with that, because Doc made all of us swear we wouldn't tell." Scout said, running to the front of Mikhail and jogged backwards. "Only person who's gunna say would be Medic himself."

"I not look for that answer. I find different."

"Huh? What are you trying to find out!?" Scout demanded.

"Go run, little baby man. Talk with Sniper." Mikhail said, growing tired.

Scout rolled his eyes.

"I would if he wouldn't hang around Spy so much…" he snapped. This made Mikhail stop.

"What?"

"Yeah. Some reason, they talk a lot and whenever I go to his van, he aint there! I ask around, and almost every time he is with that stupid frog! And here I thought they hated each other…" Scout muttered.

"Little man jealous?" Mikhail asked, smiling a little in amusement.

"Jealous of what?" the young man demanded.

"Jealous that sniper not just your friend." Mikhail explained. The reaction was instantaneous.

"No!" Scout exploded. "why would I!? I mean, yeah he's my friend and all but that don't mean he can't be pals with someone else too!"

"then what problem?"

"What's the problem? Ill tell you what the problem is! Stuffy suit, stinky mask, and stupid accent! The guy is nothing like Snipes!"

"Sometime opposite attract."

"Yeah right. Snipes is a mans man. He ain't fag like you…no offense."

There was silence for a moment.

"I never say Sniper with Spy together…you say."

Scout grimaced and opened his mouth, only to close it again.

"Ok, yeah, that's my problem. I don't actually know if they are together or not…all I know is that Spy is being way too French."

"Is wrong say that." Mikhail interjected, partially annoyed that he associated a culture and a sexuality as being one in the same. "He is-"

"Good to see ya, tough guy!"

Mikhail turned his head and saw engineer walking in the hall towards him, a metal toolbox on his shoulder. He looked like he was carrying one of his sentries or teleporters across a battlefield only he was doing it across base. Behind him (of course) was Pyro, who was carrying another toolbox.

"how you feeling? I know you were in respawn for a longer time, so it may be different than what you are used to."

"Nyet…is normal…little more dizzy and sick, but normal."

"That's good to hear." Engineer smiled. Mikhail raised an eyebrow at the Texan as he regarded him. For a man who just dealt with a team wide crisis, it seemed odd that he was this…well, happy.

"What happen after I die?"

"Well son, that's like the question 'what is beauty'; your basic conundrums of philosophy. And I solve practical problems."

Mikhail sighed and shook his head.

"Nyet, what happen when I die and in respawn?"

"Oh. Well, first the system receives a signal that you've been killed. Then it makes a copy of its last update, which is made around midnight every night-"

"Nyet, what happen after I die, in respawn and to team today?"

"Oh, that!" Engineer laughed, sounding like he knew it all along but was just trying to be difficult, making Mikhail even more frustrated.

"Well, you see son…that's a medical question." The tinker laughed, walking away, Pyro chuckling behind him. Mikhail growled and crossed his arms in a slight pout.

"Get used to it big guy." Scout said. "No one ever tells me anything either."

"You small baby. You not understand things."

"Jesus, I. Am. 18. I am a legal adult, and I kill people every day just like the rest of you!" Scout groaned. "What makes me such a kid, huh!?"

"You act like child. If act like child, people treat like baby." Mikhail reasoned.

"Spy said the exact thing." He muttered.

"Is not bad thing being child. I never was child. You lucky." Mikhail tried to be consoling.

"Oh come on, big guy." Scout rolled his eyes. "You had to be a kid at one point."

"Da. But not act like child."

"Why?" Scout pressed.

"When older. Is not child tale." Mikhail stated, stubbornly refusing to tell him anything about his childhood or family. Scout groaned in frustration and crossed his arms in a full on pout and even slightly stuck his lower lip out in irritation. Mikhail chuckled deeply and pressed his large finger to Scout's pointed nose and pressed it upwards so his nose looked like a small pig.

"Scout is baby when pout." Mikahil teased. Scout waved his arms at the larger man to get him away, but he was smiling slightly. It seemed he was struggling to keep his annoyed façade.

"Alright, alright. I get it." he snapped, though it was hardly threatening and almost playful. Mikhail smiled too.

He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a certain Teuton watch their interaction in the corner of his eye. Once he looked, the German was gone.

Must have been imagining things.


While Mikhail was alone more often than not, he found that the solitude was hardly a problem for him. His pleasure was the written word, so a book in hand was an afternoon full of imagination and escape with the philosophers. Occasionally, he even was able to write his own works, or the mere beginnings of the greatest works of the century.

Only, he didn't.

He was more alone than ever. He would speak to a few members of the team on occasion, but there seemed to be an overall detachment. He admitted that being aloof was probably not the best decision when it came to first impressions, and perhaps he was in the wrong for that. however, it seemed that the tables had been turned on him. The other members would either make an excuse to leave him or comment "why don't you talk to Medic?"

If he gave the truthful answer of "I not his friend," the other person(s) would either roll their eyes or shake their head in disappointment. He would try to explain that Medic was blind to his own immorality and that he preferred to be with company of a more principled nature, he was scoffed at.

"And where do you think you will find that in Teufort?" was the generalized argument. Mikhail had to admit, they had a point. However, he was not going to be with a man who deceives and lies to get what he wants, nor was he going to associate with said man whom had no qualms over harming patients, breaking the Hippocratic oath of "do no harm". He refused to do so. Being a friend to him means supporting him. And he did not support that kind of activity.

The odd thing that struck him, however, was the fact that Medic seemed to be doing the same. If Mikhail was in a room, he would stop, turn around, and leave. If they passed in the hall, Medic would turn the other direction and not meet his eyes. This dance of dodging and avoiding was the subject of most of the team. it was no mystery they were watching, and quite avidly, as well. It seemed that whatever happened while Mikhail was in respawn, the team was anxious about its outcome.

Battles became a playground of pure focus for Mikhail, refusing any help from Medic, even when he was dying. Medic, however, seemed more ardent than ever to heal him, almost begging for forgiveness of ending his life that Monday. Regardless, Mikhail was having none of his pleading actions, and was openly refusing the medigun's wondrous healing ability. Yes, this meant he died often. But his pride would not be damaged by falling for the bewitching medical god that was Medic. No, he was determined to remain steadfast and not be ensnared.

The middle of the week came and their performance as a team was failing miserably. Mikhail used to shower after everyone, but in order to avoid Medic, he joined everyone else for once. There, he found that their conversations never strayed from what happened that day, and was full of bitter complaints.

"-so anyway, he runs right past me! Even looks at me, and doesn't even bother to heal me! What is the point of having a medic if he wont heal anyone!" Scout whined, waving his hands a little as he lathered soap into his hair.

"Boyo, he never heals you anyway. I just thought is strange that he doesn't heal even me. Or Soldier for that matter." Demo shrugged, the shower starting to sober him up. He drank considerably less than he used to, though he said it was because he was running low, and they wouldn't be allowed off base for another two months.

"Nah, he has been slacking off." Sniper said, scratching his stubble in irritation. It seemed that sniper was growing a little more confident around people and even showed a little more social skill than before. Scout was pleased by this. Though the only thing that Sniper still seemed to be nervous about was washing in front of the other men naked. He wore his boxer briefs in the shower, but no one poked at him for it with the exception of Soldier, whom everyone ignored anyway. Mikhail couldn't blame the man for his modesty and overall standoffish nature. If it made him more comfortable, then so be it.

"I watched him a couple of times through the scope in some down moments to see if he was doing anything." Sniper continued. "Turned out he just kept on following you, Heavy." Here he glanced at said large man. Mikhail sighed and shook his head.

"I think him with smarts should take hint I not want heal or charge." Mikhail muttered.

"Aye? Well I think he's more focused on you forgiving him." Demo stated seriously. "Yeh can't ignore him forever."

"Why not?" Mikhail responded.

"Duh. Because we are falling apart without him!" Scout snapped. "I'm tired of being killed by my damn brother during the humiliation rounds in ways that shouldn't be fair play!"

"It's war, Roo. All is fair here." Sniper said, glancing at the kid. "Count your blessings. Least you don't die."

"that's worse!" Scout countered. "because now he can kill me over and over!"

"Boyo, you sure that he does it with intent? You sure it isn't just his job?"

"Ha! It's an added bonus that it's his job!" Scout laughed humorlessly.

"Are you so sure?" Sniper asked.

"Positive! He's been beating me up since we were kids. And I used to have nightmares that he would kill me in my sleep!"

Mikhail sighed and shook his head. He looked over his shoulder to see Medic walk in. When they made eye contact Mikhail turned off his shower and walked out of the room. Medic reached for him but the Russian was persistent, refusing to give an inch. Medic has started to reach out to him off the battlefield, the tango of avoidance slipping into a waltz of pursuit. He moved away out of the way of even his fingertips and snatched a towel as he went, refusing to look at him. He walked out, the knot in his throat growing and the pain in his chest clawing at his animal heart.


The darkness of night magnified his thoughts and ponderings. Each moment felt like a century, and an hour was an eternity. The Russian, no matter how much he tried to forget or tell himself that the German was not worth his thoughts, could not convince himself so. The admiration, no matter how much he tried to smash it, refused to die. He tried everything from reminding himself that Medic was straight, to remembering that it was against contract.

Eventually, a restless mind and a parched throat later, he was up and steadily moving towards the rec room. His exhaustion and lethargy was laced into every step and motion. He felt that he was dragging a weight and chain behind him, and the anvil of conscience was pressing down upon his shoulders, giving a hunched look.

To his utter shock, the light was on in the rec room. This caused him to raise an eyebrow and slowly approach the source. He entered the room and looked around, only to stand up straight, all tiredness leaving his body in an instant.

Medic.

He was hunched over the kitchen counter, in flannel pajamas and unkept hair. Based off his appearance with the added on glass of water in his cupped hands, it was apparent he was having the same problem. His face was staring at the reflective clear liquid in contemplation and sadness, seemingly on the verge of falling apart.

Mikhail gulped quietly and tried to leave the room without alerting the medical man.

"Mikhail, please don't run anymore…" Medic said, his voice raspy from disuse. Mikhail froze and slowly turned around to look at his ex companion. He still was not looking at him, and didn't even move from his position.

"I cannot play this game of cat and mouse." Medic muttered. "I…I have to speak my mind."

"There is nothing to say." Mikhail stated. That grabbed Medic's attention. His head whirled over to stare at him pitifully.

"There's everything to be said, Mikhail." He said, sliding off the stool he sat upon. The Russian narrowed his eyes and walked around the counter, so that they were on opposite sides and that there was a physical barrier between them.

"You don't have the right to call me that, Medic. You know that." Mikhail said stubbornly.

"Please, just listen to me." The German pleaded. "I know. I was blind to myself. If I had not succumbed to my feelings, then perhaps I would not have hurt you."

"Of course you would say that." Mikhail scoffed.

"It's the truth!" Medic insisted. "I would not lie to you!"

"Not lie to-how dare you!" Mikhail gasped. "You have lied to me!"

"No, I never-"

"Yes you have!" Mikhail argued. "You lied through your deception of myself and Pyro, whom I still see with guilt and shame!"

"What does that imbecile have to do with this!?"

"It has everything to do with it!"

A silence echoed across the room.

"M-Mikhail…lets get this straight…you are not angry that I killed you?"

"I could care less about that! I am more infuriated about your actions regarding the team!"

A pause.

"The…team?" He asked slowly.

"Da, the team!" Mikhail cried in frustration. "how you hold no regret for what you did that night in the lab! I thought this was clear!"

"I could care less about that!" Medic exclaimed, using the words Mikhail used. "I am being tortured every time I see you in the halls, knowing what I had, mourning what I lost and thinking I 'sealed the deal' as they say, by killing you in the most painful way!"

"I can just respawn! You killing me was not under intent! But you had every intention to go back on your word do your immoral experiment, and for what!? How can you claim innocence of anything?"

"I didn't do anything wrong, can't you see that!?" Medic snapped desperately.

"No, I cannot." Mikhail replied stiffly. "I only seen a selfish man who doesn't realize his own immorality because of the world's hatred upon himself in the past."

Medic stared with a hurt expression and looked about ready to retreat but then lunged forward over the barrier, taking Mikhail's hand into both of his own and staring into his eyes. The contact was like an electric shock that went up Mikhail's spine and released a bolt of lightning in his brain.

"Mikhail, how can I fix this? How can I make this up to you?" Medic asked desperately. Mikhail stared down at their hands and had the urge to make his free one join the bunch.

"Fix it all. Face the problem instead of hiding and pretending it isn't there. It won't get better until you try. And I will not believe you to be moral or understanding unless you do." Mikhail said, pulling his hand back. "Actions speak louder than words as they say. And your words are no longer something to go by."

Mikhail didn't wait to see his reaction. He only slipped away out of the room and refused to look back at Medic. If he looked back, it would have revealed the pain and struggle those words were to say for Mikhail.


The next morning, Mikhail had to be dragged out of bed again. This time, by a masked Frenchman. Instead of blowing a bugle in his ear, he sat on the bed next to him, and talked.

"You know this cannot last. Even a simpleton would know that. This little predicament that you both have placed yourselves in, to be blunt, is a stalemate. Unless one of you budges, this will never be resolved." He said, sighing slightly.

"I care not if it is a stalemate." Mikhail muttered in Russian. "I will only forgive him once he sees the immorality of his actions."

"Do you think the docteur will ever see the error of his ways? Its hardly any consolation if he never does." Spy said.

"I do not care. He is nothing to me unless he faces his problem head on." Mikhail growled into his pillow.

"'Faces his problem?' What do you mean, Mikhail?" Spy questioned. Mikhail glared at the other man from under his flat cushion.

"Only that unless he proves himself capable of showing morality and care for others, I will not allow him nor myself to fall into friendship."

"I see…so his morality, or lack thereof I should say, is the fuel to your dislike? Any specific way he can redeem himself?"

"Why are you asking me this? So you can just tell him? Have him do as I say and have a quick solution only for him not to be changed for the better and you prance off with the benefits along with the rest of the team at the cost of mutual respect and honor?"

"Because if you do not know how, then how is he to know how?" Spy responded, a little bite at the end.

"He is a smart man. He has every capability of figuring it out for himself!" Mikhail countered stubbornly.

"Oui, but it remains that the rest of us are falling apart on the field. And I, quite honestly, do not enjoy being toasted alive via insane mumbling abominations. Your stubbornness is causing this team to become a wreck." Spy accused.

"My stubbornness!? You sit here and defend him!?"

"Non, not at all. More or less, I am frustrated just as much as everyone else! Can't you two just get your act together!?"

"I do not condone immoral behavior."

"We are mercenaries! We kill for a living!"

"I didn't!" the Russian bit back, giving a particularly murderous glare. "I did it only to protect whom I love! I didn't take jobs! You know this!"

"You are a fool to expect the rest of us to have that luxury." Spy sighed in disappointment. "We were hired to kill. Killing is an immoral act by default. We defy death through respawn, but that is hardly an excuse."

"So medic is allowed to-"

"There are boundaries to never cross. That is one of them. I am not saying he is not at fault. But I do know that you cannot expect him to be the next angel of god."

Mikhail grumbled a little before Spy pulled at his arm.

"Now get up. I still have to wake up Scout." he grumbled irritably.

"Your son." Mikhail clarified without thinking.

At this, Spy froze.

"Quoi?"

"You heard." Mikhail muttered, not looking at the spy and certainly not noticing his face turning into a scowl. However, he heard Spy's tone turning dangerously low.

"You are not supposed to-"

"You know my life without permission." Mikhail cut off. "'Cannot take what you dish' as tiny Scout says?"

Spy frown deepened as he crossed his arms in tense apprehension.

"Regardless. No one should ever know." Spy hissed.

"Is fine. I don't gossip anyway." The Russian responded casually, almost noncommittally as he sat up in bed. Spy got up and out of the giant's way to allow him to stand and ready himself for the day. Before Mikhail could even take a step towards his dresser, Spy's too small hand grabbed Heavy's forearm, it hardly curving over the extensive muscle.

"I am serious, Monsieur. Not a word." He threatened.

"Da." Mikhail said, seriousness returning to his voice. Spy seemed to accept this and stepped away leaving the room and Mikhail to his thoughts.