This was definitely not how she had pictured her day, lying in bed being guarded by an angry German Doctor. Definitely no. She was supposed to be fighting with her team, getting Intelligence, beating the BLU team to pulp, not the other way around. She sank into the newly uncomfortable medical bed, staring dejectedly out at the bland cabinets and walls. She wondered how badly her team hated her at that moment, would anyone really care if she was ok or would they find it some kind of righteous punishment. She closed her eyes, pulling the blanket up over her head. Worse now even was the fact Medic knew who she was and if he knew, who else did? She had been unconscious for the trip to this makeshift ER, whether or not the Spy saw to it to keep her hidden was a mystery- much like everything about his actions. Oh how she wished she could just sink right through the bed, slip away unnoticed through the springs and the floorboards, drift away into that nothingness. She felt a delightful tug, a gentle lead into the dark, maybe she was slipping away – nope…that was just sleep. It wasn't a fitful sleep either, not the kind with vivid dreams that wrapped you up and stole you away from the world, separated you from reality. No, it was one of those conscious, half-sleep states, never truly falling all the way down that rabbit hole, constantly perking up at every slight sound, drawing forth from empty nothingness. Every so often the creek of the floor or the beeps of the machines would bring her back around, though she never opened her eyes or removed the covers. She lay there with eyes closed, lazily listening and drifting back and forth through wakefulness and sleep. Today hadn't gone exactly to plan.

This was definitely not how he pictured his day. Everything had gone according to plan until that Scout had to mess with the Pyro. Where the hell did he even come from anyway? The Spy thoughtfully wandered the halls, one hand in his pocket, the other pinching a cigarette between fingers. He saw the kid run in after the fire starter and so, behind the veil of the invisibility cloak he had followed him in, leaving the Pyro as a distraction.

"Yanno, ya ain't very good at plannin, maybe ya should just stick ta walkin' an burnin!" that's what the Scout had said, right before he brought his bat down hard across the girl's skull. Even the Spy had to cringe at the sound. With barely the thought of an intruding Spy, the bat wielding member took off, without so much as an uneasy glance. He had even brushed against the Spy (only slightly) upon his exit - he hadn't cared enough to check. Scouts never did.

Something odd happened to the Spy then. He had an opportunity to grab the case, to win the game, every bit of him said to grab the Intel and get out, but there was just one strand of being that piped up within him. Could he morally allow himself to leave his teammate there? He couldn't exactly say he cared if she died (I mean she'd just respawn later, right?), but there was something pathetic about the way she attempted to proceed - some stupid, utterly foolish action that warranted the Spy's respect. After getting cracked over the skull she still tried to go on. She had guts, no brains, but guts. He had dug his teeth into the end of the cigarette and stooped, catching the girl before she pitched into the ground. He detested himself for doing it, eyes locked on the briefcase knowing he could have had it, knowing he could have won this "game." No, he had to be the noble man and save this…girl.

He exhaled a toxic cloud, letting the haze drift about his masked face. He had dropped the Pyro off in the infirmary several hours ago. The Medic shooed him away in haste, shouting that his moving her could have injured her quite more severely. That was that, after Pyro was safely stowed away to his care, Spy heard nothing more. He couldn't honestly say he had cared (could he?), he'd a lot more on his mind at the time. The Scout had let slip a bit of information he shouldn't have known, "Ya ain't very good at planning." How would the opposing team's Scout know that the Pyro had concocted the plan? It was exactly what the Spy was busying himself with. BLU wasn't playing fair, not yesterday and not today.

He casually lifted his wrist to check his watch.

"Yo, any word on the Pyro?"

He brushed his sleeve back over the gadget, "Non." Stop bringing her up!

Scout looked up to the much taller French man,"Doc won't let anyone in da room." He clutched a ball in his hands, passing it between them in thoughtful procession, "Hey! How fucked up is his face? Gotta be gross, I bet it's all Phantom of the Opera unda that mask."

It was a shock to see the Scout actually knew something about literature, he didn't exactly look like the type to read a book or watch a play. Somehow he knew the Phantom though, enough to relate the two. How surprising. Spy allowed a small passage of time which the Scout interpreted it as a reprimand. Perhaps he was out of line? After all, Pyro was in the "hospital," maybe now wasn't exactly the right time for that? He looked intensely at the ball in his hand, allowing his cap to cover his eyes. He contemplated his next statement, if only slightly, he never really was one for censorship.

"Yanno, you coulda grabbed da Intel," he frowned, ceasing the repetitive tossing of the ball. He took a moment to swivel his head back up to the sneak, "Ya ain't goin' all faggy on us are ya?" True, ever since the man had figured out Pyro's secret he'd been acting a bit out of character, not an obvious difference in everyday life, but slight enough for the vigilant to pick up on. Wait – Scout was vigilant?

"You would 'ave let your teammate go for a game?"

"Nah man that ain't what I'm sayin. Dude, rememba dat time Heavy an' I was dukin' it out, he punched me out, an like yeah I coulda taken him down, but I was tired and I had the sun in my eyes, but dat ain't da point. You just laughed, man you didn't even stop."

"Everyone laughed."

"Ok yeah – wait everyone laughed? Man dat ain't cool."

A smug smile creased the French man's lips.

"My point is," Scout pressed on, "YOU'RE da one dat let's teammates go for a game. Man ya do it all da time. All uffa sudden you're getting' all homo an' shit. I mean da Intel was right there," he reached out as if the briefcase was right in front of him.

Spy's eyes lingered on the empty spot the Scout indicated. He couldn't exactly answer. The cigarette slowly smoldered away, a steady stream of smoke drifting towards the empty ceiling, twisting and turning in simplistic designs. This was the first time he threw a game away – and for what? It had always been every man (or woman in Pyro's case) for themselves, why all of a sudden had the rules changed?

"If I show you, you'll think differently…"

"You have to promise…"

Pyro was a girl – that's why. He was breaking a promise… How could he not have a different view of her and…Why did that bother him so much?

"Ze Pyro 'elped me once so I was simply returning ze favour."

It seemed like a legitimate answer and the Scout appeared to accept it, if not a bit chary. Spies were liars by nature, but Scouts were ignorant by their own.

"Alright, cool, s'long as you ain't goin' all soft on us."He popped the ball into the air again, "Imma go see what's f'dinna, lemme know what the Doc says." The runner took off down the hall, just like any other day, no walk or jog, always a full out run. What was the rush? The French agent inhaled a breath off the cigarette. It was like he hadn't taken a breath in ages as he filled his lungs to the brim with smoke. He couldn't keep his head straight, why had the Scout's dialogue provoked these feelings, these prodding thoughts he had hoped to keep tucked away. He was a Spy, an enemy to friend and foe, a no strings attached relationship – why suddenly was he being strangled by those very strings? At first the pull had been subtle, if it had existed at all, but now he was being dragged under, entwined in a sudden sort of affection for the red headed girl. Admiration? Friendship? Love? Actions he knew and expertly falsified, but couldn't understand.

He maneuvered his way through the halls and into their designated sitting room. A square room donned with a set of comfortable couches and recliners, a decent television, billiards table and piano. The TV and couches brandished the blunt of the team's attention, while other forms of entertainment (like the piano) sat unused. He couldn't say he often visited the room, occasionally he'd stood up to the Sniper's challenge of billiards, but more often than not he was holed up in either his room or the Intel room. The Spy settled himself into one of the chairs, elbow resting on knee as he held his cigarette over the coffee table's ash tray.

What the hell was happening to him? This wasn't how a Spy acted, this was how a teenager did – and he hadn't been one in god knows how long.

"Somezing on your mind, Monsieur?"

The lone gentleman jerked his head up at the familiar accent. The room was empty, save for his own presence. Spies knew better than anyone, looks could be deceiving. He carefully interpreted his surroundings, waiting for the glimmer of a silhouette.

It didn't take long to find it.

"Bonsoir, Bleu."

Pyro bitterly opened her eyes, unsure of time, unsure of whether or not the doc had returned. She stare up at the white sheets pressed against her face, gently rising and falling with her breathing, the heat of her breath collecting in the fabric at her nose.

She allowed a moment to pass, simply laying there listening to the machines talk amongst one another in beeps and clicks, vibrations of her teammates passing in the hall, the sounds of the Scout's voice as he chewed out the doctor for some indiscernible reason. The moment was up. There was no reason she should have to sit around in bed if she wasn't getting rest anyway, plus – she really had to pee. She pulled the sheets down, greeted by an empty room; at least she wouldn't have to deal with the Medic's incessant nagging to get back in bed and rest. She dragged herself out of bed, her shoulders and back stiff from immobility and bruising. Getting dressed was a difficult task, the bending and twisting associated with it irritated her injury, causing it to once again flare up. She fought into her sports bra and top, bent and pulled her suit up. She was pleased to find her suit had actually been washed, her socks too, like new no longer sticking to her feet as she pressed them into the soles of her heavy boots. There was one thing missing however – her gasmask. She rubbed where the Scout had blindsided her, unable to pinpoint the exact location of injury, though the pressure in her skull gave a good enough approximation. The mask was excellent protection against fires, not so much baseball bats. In the moment, the Spy had probably disregarded the helmet and just carried her off. She'd just have to be extra careful then.

Mission begins in 10 seconds – get to the Bathroom.

She poked her head out of the infirmary, looking first left than right. Completely empty. She shuffled hurriedly to the bathrooms.

Success! Oh if only the jobs were that simple.

She gave herself a start when she caught herself in the reflection. Hands running under cold water she warily eyed her own self. It was as if she expected herself to transform, the face she was looking at seemingly not her own. The second-rate haircut actually worked well. She turned her head, eyeing herself from several angles. It actually made her look a bit more boyish, though the girlish facial structure decreased her age a bit. Supposing no one else had seen her, this whole charade could continue, as long as no one peeked beneath her uniform. Her eyes drifted to the side, catching the reflection of the clock in the mirror. 9:00pm. That couldn't be right…could it? That would mean she'd been unconscious for…She took a moment to count the time..For roughly eight hours. She groaned and her stomach rumbled in response. Being in the medical bay with the Medic (and only the Medic) wasn't exactly an appealing thought, might as well look for food next.

She bravely stepped into the hall, the first time in ages without a mask. It didn't look much different, perhaps a bit brighter and now she could actually see out of her peripherals. Everyone else must have already disappeared to the dining hall, the rooms and corridors devoid of any life. A expertly hidden Sentry gun steadily turned its nose left and right, keeping an eye out for intruders. Its beeping echoed the halls coupled with the footsteps of the young pyro.

"What are you doing 'ere?"

"Ohhh, can't come visit?"

Pyro hesitated, casting a questioning look to her environment. She followed the voices on tiptoes.

"Non."

A laugh.

"What do you want, Bleu?"

She stopped at the doorway of the lounge. She braved a peek in, catching a very quick glimpse of two near identical men: one in blue and one in red. The…Spies? She withdrew back into the hall, leaning her weight against the wall, hoping she hadn't been spotted and praying her heartbeat wouldn't give her away. She held a hand over her mouth to stifle her breathing, listening over the pounding in her ears as the two men conversed.

A click, the sound most commonly associated with the opening of the Spy's cigarette case. "Monsieur, please, zere is no need. I am 'ere to talk. Zat is all."

Pyro lowered her hand and watched the wall opposite her, painting her own vision on its blank surfaced as she listened in. Suddenly she had become the Spy, eavesdropping on people's conversations, sneaking about unnoticed. She didn't like the BLU Spy at all, his snide comments and cocky attitude really bit into her nerves. In addition to being a full circle jerk, he was on the opposing team. Enemy Spy in her base? What else was a Pyro to do?

She suppressed the urge to attack. What would she do anyway? She'd run in there and throw a punch? Sure she had smashed the Scout's nose up pretty good, but this was a Spy, there was a big difference between classes and her punches weren't exactly the strongest. Even if she decided to go with that plan, the moment she stepped in the Spy would cloak and run, that or strike from behind. Either way the plan was bound to fail. All she could do was stand by and watch. She gathered her nerve and cautiously poked her head in once more.

"Oh?" The RED had gotten to his feet, directing his pistol at his BLU counterpart, "Aven't exactly been playing fair. You can thank your Scout for zat."

The BLU Spy smirked.

"S'il vous plaît, Monsieur, if I was going to do somezing, I would 'ave." He shrugged it off, taking a breath from the cigarette held loosely between his lips.

A snort of riposte from her own team member.

The BLU Spy's eyes lingered over the top of his masked friend's head. He frowned and immediately Pyro drew her head back. 'Shit, he saw me! He saw me!' She pressed back against the wall, gripping at the beating in her chest. She couldn't be sure he had seen her from this distance, but at the same time, couldn't be positive he hadn't. The soft tapping of the Spy's brand name shoes floated up to her ears, his shadow dragging across the floor and up the wall. Pyro stole away from the scene just as the form of her own Sniper poked his head out of the room. A disguise. But the Pyro was already gone.

The Sniper swiveled his head this way and that. He was certain he had spotted a flash of red, a "peeping tom," a wannabe Spy. Someone had been listening he was sure. "Gotter be quick 'ere mate," Warily he turned his back on the hall. After all, who was going to backstab him? All the Spies were present. "I 'ave a proposition for ye."

"I am not negotiating with you."

"You might want ter reconsider that there, mate. Might not be in the sheila's best interest."

Where was she going? She didn't quite know herself, but she had to keep moving, lest the Spies catch wind of her presence (any more than they already had). She turned a corner and smacked into something solid. Her back ached as she fell back on her rear, the object she'd bumped mimicking the motion. Her head reeled, sickeningly spinning. She raised a hand to it, holding it in efforts to still the images. A most familiar loud and obnoxious voice mixed with her jumbled up vision.

"What da hell man! Watch where you're...goin?"

The Scout.