I'm back, after a long unofficial hiatus. Y'all know how it is, I'm sure you do.

gozieson: Thank you so much for all the compliments and comments. You're kinda right, I've been dead in the writing department. I've the rest of the story figured out, but it's getting it down on paper that's the hard part. But it's coming, I promise :)

krazykiki: In that case, I wish you as many double rainbows as I can :)

general-tommy: Ah, th only pairing I'm a fan of at all is Heavy/Medic. But in my head cannon, they're just all bros. I'm not huge of the idea that just because they're near each other they need to screw. No worries, no other pairing of such a nature will be explored in this story. Maybe they will eventually, but not here.

maxrider1: Spy is quite a mystery. Maybe we'll find out more about him.

The Black Fool: Thank you so much! It really lifts my spirits to get complients like this. But really, perverted stories can be quite enjoyable. xD

ChrisTheCat: Thanks for the point, I promies they're not boring. Fem-Sniper wasn't meant to talk much at all, though I did consider developing her more. I just ended up focusing on other characters, like the RED Medic. (I was sad to kill him off as well, don't get me wrong.)

This chapter was uploaded when I was super tired. All complaints should be sent to my school, because they are the ones doing this to me.

Disclaimer: 'Team Fortress 2' and all its characters and concepts belong to the Valve Corporation. I own the writing on this page, the original characters, features and situations upon said page.

Her hands were shaking as she made her tea.

Fem-Spy was in the RED kitchen, carefully dipping a bag of Lady Grey into a large, steaming mug. Less than half an hour ago, she had been sitting with Sniper in the locker room, stewing in her own guilt upon discovering his infatuation with Spy. He had sat unmoving for at least five minutes, before taking a deep breath and sitting up straight. His demeanour surprised Fem-Spy. When he looked at her his eyes were red and his face wet, but there was a smile plastered on top of his sorry features.

"Don't worry yer head 'bout me Spoih," he had said with almost a hint of cheeriness in his voice. "But if ya tell anyone, I'll wring yer bloody neck."

He had gotten up and left right after that, retrieving his hat and sun glasses from the sink on the way. Fem-Spy sat on the bench, alone and frightened. She was shocked by Sniper's sudden reaction and his change of moods. She tried to push it out of her mind. For the first time in a while she had been so happy, and now Sniper had made things difficult again. She couldn't help but feel bitter.

As she sat, she thought back to the head Medic when she confronted him. There was the same violent reaction and threats, the same anger at the reveal of one's true emotion. Fem-Spy had always categorized Sniper and Medic differently, as they both seemed like such different people. Sniper was kind and seemed gentle, while Medic was cold and cruel. However, they were both affected the same way by confrontation. Perhaps none of the men in the base were any different. Fem-Spy thought about Spy. If someone questioned him about his relationships in the base, would he lash out and deny any and all accusations? Would he knock the person to the ground, trace their jugular with his knife and ask why it was any of their goddamned business? Or would he accept anything that was thrown at him? Fem-Spy honestly couldn't say which option she would prefer.

She took her tea to the mess hall. On the way she stopped by her own room and grabbed some paper and a pen. She was going to write a letter home. Mail was delivered every month from family and friends to the current base the team occupied. Fem-Spy had received a letter in her second month, but had never written anything back. She already knew her godmother disapproved of her gallivanting around with men twice her age and the last thing she wanted in her home life was more tension. In this moment however, she needed somewhere to pour out her thoughts. She went to the mess hall, because she thought no one in their right mind would be there at this time of day. It was a ceasefire after all. People wanted to enjoy themselves.

Fem-Spy's hopes were correct. The mess hall was deserted. She slid onto a bench near the door and placed her pen and paper on the table. She took a swig from her still steaming mug, pick up her pen and stared at the paper.

She decided to start with a greeting. She wrote names at the top of the page, both her godmother and her godmother's son. She considered an opening greeting.

I am writing from my work place and hope you are both well.

She paused for a moment and then crossed out the line. She didn't want to sound like a boring working-class girl, even though that's what her family thought she was. Part of RED's stipulation upon hiring her was that she must not tell anyone outside of the company what she did. Fem-Spy wasn't too keen on spreading the fact that she killed people, but the RED had seemed adamant about their secrecy.

I miss you both dearly. I wish I could write to you sooner, but because of my work I have been moving around constantly.

She stared at the sentences and then crumpled up the piece of paper. She brushed it off the table and grabbed a clean sheet. She wrote the same two names on the top of the page. She leaned forward over the table and dropped her head in her hands, with elbows on the table top. She kept that pose for almost ten minutes, until she was interrupted by Fem-Scout.

"Hey Spy!" She called as she pushed open the door to the mess hall. Fem-Spy jumped slightly at the girl's entrance.

"'Ello Scout," She sighed and crumpled up the paper in front of her again. "Is zhere something I can 'elp you with?"

"Nah, not really. Watcha doin'?" Fem-Scout hoped over to the table and sat next to Fem-Spy.

"Nothing. Trying to write a letter home."

"Why ya doin' that?"

Fem-Spy sighed. "I 'aven't written zhem in a while. I'd like to inform them and let zhem know I'm still alive."

Fem-Scout laughed nervously. "Well, that's good. Yeah..." She stared at the paper. "Can I have a sheet? Like, to write on?"

"But of course," Fem-Spy picked up a piece of paper from the stack and her pen and handed it to Fem-Scout.

Fem-Scout and smiled. She immediately began writing, one name in a messy scrawl and then into the body of the letter. Fem-Spy watched as the young girl scratched away at the paper. She wrote and wrote for a good five minutes, filling almost the whole page. It was curious, seeing her so quiet and concentrating so much.

She paused to stretch her fingers and Fem-Spy handed her another piece of paper. Fem-Scout looked at her curiously.

"You can't write on zee back of zhat page," Explained Fem-Spy.

Fem-Scout looked at her a frowned. "Why not?" She said.

"It will look messy."

"My pa won't care."

"But I do."

Fem-Scout frowned again. "Alright, whateva." She snatched the paper from Fem-Spy's hand, slapped it down on the table and continued writing. Fem-Spy watched her for another minute and then spoke up.

"'Ow is it zhat you can write so much?"

"What?" Fem-Scout looked at her. "Oh, well it's not hard. So much crap's happened lately, I got a lot to write about."

Fem-Spy pulled a cigarette out of her silver case and stuck it in between her teeth. "Surely you can't be writing about everything that 'as 'appened. Some of it I zhink would, ah, worry your father."

"Well ah course I'm not writin' about... That stuff. Jus' about movin' around and my friends and stuff. Like you."

Fem-Spy had been fumbling for her lighter and nearly dropped it. "About me?" She asked, shocked.

"Ah course!" Fem-Scout said. She fiddled with the pen in her hand. "You're like, the only other girl here now. An' I've known ya since day one. I say we're friends."

Fem-Spy didn't know what to say. She had indeed known the girl since her first day on the job, and she defiantly considered them friends on some level. But hearing Fem-Scout say it aloud gave the idea some solidity, like drawing a picture from something in your head. It made it real. Fem-Spy felt overcome by a wave of emotion. She placed her lighter on the table without lighting her cigarette.

"Zhank you, Scout." Her eyes felt moist. She inhaled deeply through her nose to dispel tears.

Fem-Scout left shortly after, with a few more pages written, to mail away her letter.

Fem-Spy stayed behind to finish her own. In the end she wrote six pages. She left to lie down in her room before she handed over her letter to be mailed. Before she even did that, she went to the kitchen to drop off her dirty tea mug, and hopefully get a refill. She set a kettle on the stove and leaned on the counter, looking over her letter to home, her loopy writing flying across the pages. She was focusing so much on her papers that she barely noticed the puff of red smoke near the kitchen door. The next moment, the letter was snatched out of her hands.

She looked up to see Spy standing in front of her, a smug grin on his face and a cigarette in his lips.

"Writing your memoir?" He said, his tone beyond irritating.

"A letter," Fem-Spy grabbed the papers and set them on the counter behind her, "If you don't mind."

Spy held his hands up defensively. "Not at all ma cheri. I 'ardly ever mind."

Fem-Spy glared at him. The kettle began to whistle, and she moved it off the stove. Keeping an eye on her letter, which was sitting precariously on the counter, she moved to collect a new mug and a fresh tea bag from a cupboard. Spy did nothing but watch her the entire time, leaning on the edge of the counter with his arms folded. It was almost strange, she felt awkward in his presence. She had thought about what had happened with them and she felt she needed to say something. When she had poured the steaming water and deposited the tea bag, she turned to face him. She could barely grasp something to say.

"Is zhere something you want, Monsieur Spy?"

"Not at all," Spy raised his hands defensively. "I just zhought to, ah, check up on you."

"Why? I don't need to be watched like a child," Fem-Spy checked on her tea, turning her back to Spy.

"I would 'ope not." There was a moment's silence, then Fem-Spy felt hands wrap around her waist and Spy's chin on her shoulder. "Because you certainly do not act like a child."

Fem-Spy bit her lip hard. It would be difficult to say what she had to next, but she had given it a lot of thought. She carefully swivelled in Spy's grip to face him. Their faces were inches apart. She placed a firm hand on his chest and pushed.

"Please Monsieur," She said. "We cannot do zhis."

Spy looked confused. "And why not? As I recall, you seemed most intrigued at perusing a... Relationship, shall we say?" He cracked a smile. "Or was zhat not what you were looking for?"

Fem-Spy tried to push him away, with two hands on his chest now. "We will get in trouble."

"'Oo cares?"

"I do! It was you zhat told me I was part of a trial! I will not put the future possible employees of zhis company into jeopardy because of you."

Spy chuckled darkly. "Zhis company... Zee REDs. Zhey are nothing. Believe me ma cheri, I have found out zhings about zhis company zhat would make your pretty little toes curl."

Fem-Spy felt her face flush. "It doesn't matter!" She pushed Spy with more force. He wouldn't let her go. "Zhis is wrong. I am not just another secretary for the working men to amuse themselves with. I will not become what I 'ave tried so 'ard to resist!"

She thrust her weight toward Spy, and he wheeled back from her, stumbling across the kitchen. He straightened his suit and looked at her. His eyes were deep, and seemed almost sad.

"Is zhat what you zhink? Zhat I zhought of you as only a lowly secretary?" His voice raised in volume slightly. "Zhat nothing we 'ad done was worth anything?"

"Well it wasn't, was it?" Fem-Spy felt her lip quivering. She tried to stop it. "What kind of life could we 'ave in zhis place anyway? Anyone of us could die tomorrow, you said it yourself!" She snatched her letter from the counter top, crumpling the pages. "I don't want any more loss in my life. Living here is 'ard enough."

Spy moved toward her to touch her arm. "Even if we may not live after tomorrow, wouldn't it be better to live it 'appily? To be 'appy?"

Fem-Spy felt a pain in her chest as she heard the words. She did want to be happy. It wasn't her fault she was battling death every day. She had realized couldn't compromise her survival with anything.

She moved away towards the door, her letter gripped tightly in her hand. When she reached the door, she placed her hand on the handle and paused. She turned her head ever so slightly, not so much that she was looking at Spy, but enough so he could see her.

"I'm sorry I can't make you 'appy."

And then she left. After the door swung closed, she heard a crash of dishes hitting the floor. She couldn't imagine what Spy had done.

It was only when she was halfway to her room that she remembered her tea.

Aha, we all forget things sometimes. We can't blame her.

And if you don't completely follow Fem-Spy's train of thought on the subject of her relationship with Spy, I don't blame you.

Please rate & review, any critique and comments make me dream sweeter dreams!