A Dear Memory

The sun was hot on the Frenchman's covered skin when he first arrived at the base. He hadn't had much time to pack on such short notice, but he made sure his bag contained the essentials for his new job. The tote at his side contained mainly weapons and articles of clothing…so hopefully there would be other sundry supplies provided for him to use. Spy entered the BLU base and glanced around at the surrounding faces.

They looked like an odd bunch, but he supposed you can't choose your teammates when you are the one replacing someone. He was contacted by a "Miss Pauling" the day prior with an offer to join some group of mercenaries, but this wasn't exactly what he expected. A cohesive gang of contracted killers seemed like a strange notion in itself… but these misfits made it all the more queer. Still, though, the pay was too good to pass up and a steady job was better than a few jobs here and there. He was assigned a uniform as soon as he agreed, and now here he was.

Apparently the team's old Spy was killed while off duty and they needed an immediate replacement. He wasn't sure if he should be honored or concerned about all the trouble this company went through to contact him... but he decided to choose the first for the time being. Everyone seemed to keep away from him at first; they didn't know him, and he didn't know them. It wasn't that strange- especially if you take the fact that the old spy was reclusive in the first place. It was just something that was usual to the mercs. It was still a welcomed change when one of his new teammates actually spoke to him, though.

It took a few weeks, but he was eventually caught one night in the mess by the notably strangest member of the team. The Pyro was odd. They wore a mask which covered more of their face than his own, and a suit that kept even their skin color a mystery. The firebug didn't actually say much to him- it was more their actions that initiated their friendship. Pyro sat next to him and spoke shyly about the failure of the day's mission, telling him not to let the jabs from his teammates get him down. It was only natural for the newbie to be blamed after all! Spy listened intently to the mumbles as they poured from the mask, amazed that he could actually understand a word coming from their mouth.

Pyro kept coming back to talk to him after that, and he reciprocated. They kept formal conversations under their breath around their teammates, but that was all they really needed. Having someone to talk to and feel accepted by made the Frenchman happier than anything. And, amazingly enough, the other BLUs started actually talking to him after seeing him interact with the pyro.

"Be careful of him" they said "he'll melt your face off" they told him in a semi joking manner.

He would laugh them off and change the subject, but it was apparent that nobody on the team really wanted to talk to Pyro at this point. They seemed frightened of them.

It didn't take long for Spy to confirm this suspicion with the arsonist. Nobody talked with them unless it was necessary to the day's match. Spy could see how much it hurt the Pyro to be shunned… but what could he do? He didn't have nearly enough influence among the team to force them to interact with the mumbling monster, so how would he convince them to give Pyro more than a second glance? Pyro was convinced it was a lost cause at this point… But there was no way he would stand by and watch them suffering after they put themself out there and befriended him.

He started off small; bringing them up in conversations with Sniper or Engineer, or inviting them on trips to town with Demo and Medic. To say the other BLUs were wary would be a vast understatement, but they started to begrudgingly accept the fireball more over the course of a few months.

Soldier would laugh when Pyro giggled about some cartoon on the television, Heavy started having small conversations during meals- the team began to accept them as a sort of younger sibling in the group.

After that, Pyro began to open up to him about all sorts of things. Nothing about their life or any deeply personal information, but about their interests. They told him of how beautiful fire was to them and how colorful it was in their eyes, of each new plush they collected, and even their favorite color crayon to use. Then, one day, they told him of their gender.

Spy was not exactly shocked to hear of their form of preferred androgyny- who wouldn't pick up on their interests in feminine activities and collectables? The firebug told him how they wished they could comfortably dress as they wanted to, but didn't feel like they could ever do so. Who would take a flat-chested girl in a mask seriously as a killer for hire? Well… he would. If Pyro wouldn't buy clothes for themself, then he would do if for them.

Spy purchased fine blue dresses and skirts for his friend and began leaving them in their locker, enjoying the ecstatic gasps at the beautiful garments left for them. Only the finest clothes would do for Pyro's first dresses, so their muffled screeches of joy made the price absolutely worth every penny. The only problem was they didn't want to actually wear the clothes at first. Pyro didn't want their teammates to judge them on what they wore so soon after getting on speaking terms! Spy assured them that their team would be nothing but supportive… or at least they had better be.

It took a little persuasion, but the firebug did start to wear their new clothes around the base and during meals. Nobody made a deal of it. Why would they? They all killed people for a living- what any of them chose to wear was their own business. In time, most of the team even stopped calling Pyro "him".

Battles were fought, enemies and allies alike were lost, and gradually he and Pyro grew apart. They seemed more happy spending time with Engineer and Medic than anyone else... so the Frenchman didn't mind. As long as Pyro was enjoying themself, he was happy.

Pyro's choice in relationships only startled bothering him when an enemy got involved, but even then he wasn't quite sure what to say. The firebug seemed so happy with that disgusting bushman so who was he to get in their way? It's not like the BLU would leak any important information to him. Still, Spy would watch over his friend to make sure they were doing well with Sniper and interacting with the other BLUs.

but... even with keeping such a close eye on them, he still couldn't see what was happening with that new medic. The way he had gotten so close to the arsonist unsettled Spy, but he assumed it was just some form of jealousy or nostalgia of how Pyro had welcomed him to the team sinking in.

He should have trusted his instincts. He knew something was wrong with that German, but Pyro needed comfort he himself couldn't supply. Losing such a close comrade as the team's first medic was so hard on them! It wasn't his place to tell him to back away from Pyro or to tell the firebug themself that he was bad news. Now, though, he thoroughly regretted holding his tongue. Any amount of ire he would gain from Pyro in warning them of the offsetting feeling Medic gave him would be worth their safety. To be honest, Spy would prefer them hate him and never talk to him again if it meant them not going through whatever was happening to them now.

Sniper had been relatively quiet for the whole ride, only mumbling inaudible curses to himself as he wrung his hands together. At least Pyro's chosen partner seemed to care about them. Spy looked out the small window beside him as the vehicle moved through the night. He hoped they were alright- or at least not dead. There was no doubt in his mind that Medic was hurting his friend in some way, and that thought made the worst knot in his stomach. They were getting further and further away from the base and subsequently further away from the respawn machines. If Pyro was killed now, there was a strong chance that they would be out of range. Their death would be on his hands. He knew it wasn't- not really... but he couldn't help but feel it was his fault. He didn't watch over them closely enough or didn't push the wrong people away from them...

The Frenchman flicked his knife around in his fingers as he thought. All he could do now is help them get out of whatever trouble they were now in. All he could do now is think about ways to save them with the silent American in the driver's seat and their lover.

All he could do for now as the truck pulled to a stop in front of a dark warehouse was think about the worst ways to kill Medic.