I hate going more than a month between chapters and this time around a month passed before I even started the next chapter! The good news is that (hopefully) updates from now on will be a little more frequent. It's funny. I wanted to have this fic finished before I started my MA. Now here I am, less than a week before my final deadline, and still working on it! What have I done.

The usual thanks goes to the boyfriend for proof reading for me (he's been doing that a lot recently) and for helping me with the chapter title :)

Sniper lowered his rifle and placed it down on the crate next to the one he was sitting on. Stifling a yawn, he rubbed at his tired eyes. Killing the Spy earlier had given him an adrenaline boost but it hadn't lasted long. He'd also managed to get a headshot on the BLU earlier, which had been satisfying, but he knew he was going to suffer for it.

Sniper went to glance over his shoulder as something silver flickered past his vision. He blinked, but before he even had time to wonder what it was, it fastened around his throat.

He gasped. Or at least, he tried to; he couldn't draw breath. An arm clad in dark blue entered his vision briefly, before the constriction tightened.

Sniper's hands flew to his neck, scrabbling around thin metal. He couldn't get his fingers under it. Couldn't pull it away. Couldn't breathe.

He gagged as it tightened further. A body, solid and warm, pressed against his back. It made his skin crawl. Sniper tried to pull himself forward. Tried to stand up off the crate. Tried to escape.

Sniper should have been reaching for his kukri but there was no room in his head for anything but panic. His chest moved in jerky little spasms, trying to draw in the oxygen that couldn't reach it. His legs twitched, numb and useless. Black static swam in front of his eyes.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the pressure was gone. Sniper slumped forward, away from the body pressed up behind him. His hat toppled off his head and his aviators fell askew but he barely noticed. Sniper gulped in air, each breath scouring his throat. It felt so good to be able to breathe again. But it hurt so much too.

Sniper found himself crumpling to the ground in the space between the crate and the wall beneath the window he'd been sniping out of. He dragged himself out of it on hands and knees, wheezing. He had to get away. Had to. He started to cough. It tore at his throat so much it made his eyes water, but once Sniper started, he couldn't stop. Each barking cough shook his body, leaving his weak limbs shaking and his head spinning. Sniper tried to keep moving. He had to get away. By the time he finally recovered though, he'd crawled hardly more than a metre.

Sniper glanced over his shoulder to find the BLU Spy just a couple of paces away, smirking down at him. Sniper had pulled himself away from his rifle and away from the kukri propped up next to it. He turned away, trying to push himself up onto shaking legs.

Footsteps. Behind him. Sniper just had time to look around again before a foot slammed into his back, forcing him flat on the ground.

The Spy's weight shifted as he leant down. The silver wire entered Sniper's vision again. Fear clenched at his chest. 'No!' he gasped, throat so raw it barely sounded like a word at all.

'Yes,' the Spy hissed as he looped the garrotte back around Sniper's throat. Sniper tried to reach up and hook his fingers under the wire before it went taut around his throat. He was too late.

Unlike before, the Spy didn't tighten the wire straight away. He kept on just enough pressure to make Sniper panic, but not enough to render him unconscious, or worse. Slowly, he tugged on the wooden handles of the garrotte, forcing Sniper's head back.

His back began to arch in response to the continued pressure. With one hand, Sniper continued to try and tug the wire away from his throat, with the other, he pushed the front half of his body away from the floor. His arm started to shake. His back began to ache. There was only so far he could arch his spine with the Spy's weight on it. But there was nothing else he could do. No way out.

Behind him, close to his left ear, he could hear the Spy's heavy breathing. And off to his right... footsteps?

Hope swelled in his chest.

Dark hair. Round glasses. Pale lab coat. Bloody bonesaw.

The feeling of hope stuttered and failed. Not his Medic. The BLU.

'You know...' the Medic began. The Spy's hands jerked in surprise. Sniper gagged. 'I heard all that coughing and thought I'd either find an ally in need of my help, or an enemy I could help on his way. I didn't expect to find this.

Sniper couldn't understand a lick of French, but he could tell that the Spy's reply was a rude one.

'My, such language, herr Spy!'

'Shouldn't you be somewhere else right now, Medic? Say, with your Heavy?'

'Yes. But alas, he is dead. And this is far more interesting. I mean, what is even going on here? Some kind of violent pilates class? What's this pose called, "Sniper salutes the sun?"'

the Spy's grip on the garrotte tightened again. Sniper's right arm was trembling now from holding up his weight and his arched back was near breaking point. He couldn't stop tugging at the wire with his left hand though. He couldn't give up. He had to get free.

'This man,' the Spy began with venom, 'cost me a month's wages. I thought he deserved something in a return.'

'A month's wages? Really? Now that is impressive. You know, herr Spy, you really do seem to love hurting this man. It's as though, hmmm... as though something about it really works for you, really gets you going, gets the blood pumping, really turns you—'

'Shut up!'

Sniper had his eyes closed, all his concentration going into keeping himself up. The tiniest amount of oxygen could filter through to his lungs as long as he kept himself in this position. And as long as the Spy didn't tighten the wire.

'Touchy subject is it? Well, I guess I should be heading off in a minute. Unlike you, my team actually needs me. Besides, it's probably best if I leave you two to it. I imagine you'll be taking him sooner, rather than later?'

'Taking him where?' the Spy spat.

'Why... right there on the floor, I'd been assuming.'

One handle of the garotte slipped out of the Spy's hand. Sniper collapsed forward. He lay on the floor taking great, shuddering breaths. Even though he wasn't moving, he felt like the room was spinning around him. Sniper knew he should be using this chance to escape, but all he could think about was dragging oxygen into his lungs. The most pressing thing after that was curling up into a ball to stretch to work out the knots in his back. Then maybe he could think about escaping.

Behind him he heard the Spy pull himself hurriedly to his feet. He was making startled, indignant spluttering noises, so unlike his usual smooth retorts. 'How can you? I mean—why would you—I wouldn't—I mean—non!—Never!

He balled his hands into fists inside his kid-leather gloves as Medic hummed. It was an amused, disbelieving sound to go with his arched brow and smug smile.

'Oh, come now, herr Spy. No need to be so coy with me. You said that stabbing people isn't your idea of foreplay but clearly some kind of violence is with the way you behave around this Sniper. I mean, I almost understand. He's not all that unattractive, atrocious fashion sense aside. And he is a sniper after all, with that rugged, outdoorsy look he's got going on, I wouldn't be surprised if he liked it rough.'

On the floor, the Sniper started to cough. The Spy couldn't tell if it was triggered by Medic's words or not. The RED seemed barely conscious. Still breathing though. Still alive. He should have fixed that before the damn Medic turned up.

The Spy snorted. 'I wouldn't know, Medic. Your own perversions have you barking up the wrong tree. I've not "taken" any sniper here on the floor or anywhere else besides.'

'Really now? That is a pity. Means I owe Heavy money.'

'What?'

'Well, we had this bet going you see... Most of the team's in on it actually.'

Something inside of the Spy's chest constricted. The team knew? No, wait. There was nothing to know. He'd never done anything to the Sniper, not really. He wasn't remotely interested in the man anyway. Not at all. Not at all...

'Soldier's got you down as a bottom kind of guy if you know what I mean. And Scout's put all his money on you two meeting for secret hook-ups at the weekend.'

The Spy's panicked worries fell away. A sneer spread across his face. The Medic was lying. There was no way his idiot teammates could all be in on something like that without it effecting how they behaved about him. The Scout especially. That brat's mouth ran a mile a minute and he had as much of a poker face as a small child pretending he hadn't smashed his mother's favourite vase. 'Oh sure, I really believe you.'

Medic shrugged, unabashed at being caught out. 'Well, I still did lose that bet with Heavy. By the way, have you ever looked at the scar on that Sniper's face?'

'Obviously. I left it there.'

'It's just that I've been thinking about it lately. Have you noticed the way it could easily as be interpreted as two scars? I mean, You stopped at his eye, didn't you? Then started the cut again on the other side. Leaving him with two scars.'

'It's one scar!' the Spy snapped. 'One.'

'How long before you second scar him then?'

The Spy hissed in a breath. 'Never, Medic.'

The Medic tutted. 'You know, this whole business still seems rather strange to me. I think if I brought it up with the team, especially, say, Sniper, he'd think it were rather strange too. Kind of odd. A little... queer.'

'Oh you're one to talk! I know. I know about you and Heavy.'

For the first time during their encounter, the Medic's sarcastic smirk faltered, fear flickering behind his round glasses.

'Oh yes, I know all about that,' the Spy pressed. 'I have pictures.' It was a lie. He hadn't intended to reveal to the Medic that he knew about his secret relationship with Heavy until he had photographic proof to back him up, but the Medic had forced his hand.

'Heavy will kill you,' the Medic said, keeping his voice low. His eyes flicked to where the Sniper lay slumped on the floor, panting.

'No he won't. Not unless he wants certain incriminating photographs of the two of you spread around our base. And around RED's too, perhaps.'

The Medic's free hand clenched into a fist, the bonesaw in the other raising to chest height. The Spy stood his ground, expression neutral. Best not to goad the Medic with a smirk. Internally, the Spy was worrying. This meant he was actually going to have to find a way of getting those photographs if he wanted to keep the Heavy at bay. Though he was generally a quiet, relatively calm man, the Heavy was almost as dangerous as Medic, and very protective of him.

'All right then,' Medic said at last through gritted teeth. He lowered the bonesaw as he continued, 'I won't say a word about your... interest in the enemy Sniper. Don't go blaming me if someone catches you all the same. You really aren't as subtle as you think you are.'

The Spy shrugged off the insult, allowing a smug smile to slip onto his face. That was his Medic problem sorted.

'You admit it then,' Medic said, raising his chin haughtily.

'Admit what, doctor?' the Spy replied, still smiling.

'That you have an interest in him.'

'Oh yes.' Triumph flared in the Medic's eyes. 'But as I said, your perversions really do have you barking up the wrong tree.' The Spy knew that the best lies contained a little truth in them. He also knew that sometimes it was wise to give away a little truth in order to protect a much larger one. 'You might actually find this little experiment I've been running, interesting, Medic. Certainly out of all our teammates, I think you're the only one who's likely to understand it.'

The Medic's expression didn't change, but the Spy knew he had the German's interested. The Medic loved gossip and secrets and scientific (and unscientific) experiments and flattery. No matter how much he disliked the Spy, and vice-versa, he would be intrigued over this.

'You are familiar of course, with the theory of respawn-induced pressure points?'

The Medic rolled his eyes. 'Of course. It's just a theory though, I've—' He broke off, frowning at something behind the Spy. The Spy turned around to find the Sniper up on his hands and feet, crawling, slowly and unsteadily. It would have made him laugh if the Sniper hadn't been so close to the door.

'Oh no you don't!' he snapped. He closed the distance between them and slammed a foot into the Sniper's side, hard enough to make him keel over. He rolled onto his back, glaring at Spy from behind his tinted aviators. He couldn't fool the Spy though. He was terrified.

'Oh come on, Sniper, you're just delaying the inevitable. Roll over for me, come on boy, roll over.'

The Sniper's attempts at a retort ended in a coughing fit. The Spy seized the opportunity to grab hold of him by his shoulder and belt, and heave him over. The Sniper resisted, throwing out one arm to stop himself moving, and lashing out at the Spy with the other. His forearm caught the Spy across the face. The Medic snickered. The Spy gritted his teeth, pooling his pain into anger and his anger into aggression. With a snarl, he forced the Sniper over onto his front. One of the Sniper's arms were trapped under his body, but the Spy didn't care that he wasn't lying flat. He didn't care that the Sniper was trying to kick him either. All that mattered was that he could get at the Sniper's back.

There was a moment's indecision. The Spy hadn't had chance to check if this worked over the top of clothes. But trying to take any of the Sniper's clothes off would not only be difficult, it would also fuel the Medic's claims about him. He settled for peeling one glove off and worming his hand in under the Sniper's collar. The RED flinched, pressing his head back against the Spy's hand to try and stop it. The Spy shoved it down further and hooked his fingers in against the Sniper's spine.

The effect was instantaneous. The Sniper convulsed beneath him with a hoarse gasp. His whole body went as taut as a bow. He didn't breathe.

The Spy let go. The Sniper slumped bonelessly against the dusty floor, fingers twitching. He started breathing again, shallow and raspy.

'Not just a theory, after all,' the Spy said.

'Do it again,' the Medic replied. The Spy wasn't usually one for obeying orders but he did. He dug his fingers into the Sniper's spine for a beat of three, and then let go. This time the weak twitches in the Sniper's fingers spread through his limbs, giving the impression of a dying spider.

'Interesting,' the Medic admitted and the Spy pulled his hand free. 'Very interesting. I've never seen proof before that it was actually real. I can't say it's an experiment I've ever looked into myself. How did you do it?'

'Persistence. I took a new man to the battlefield,' the Spy nodded towards the Sniper, 'someone who hadn't been through respawn many times, and spent about a month killing him him in exactly the same way. I targeted the same point again and again. Didn't always get it exactly right; people do have a habit of refusing to stand still when you're trying to kill them, but I was on target enough to be able to imprint a pressure point on him. Only recently found out it actually works though.'

'And the garrotte?'

'Sorry?'

'What was that in aid of?'

'I wanted to see if I'd be able to elicit the same reaction from the Sniper while he was unconscious,' the Spy lied smoothly.

'So nothing to do with him costing you a month's pay somehow?'

'That might also have paid a part in it, yes.'

'I'm curious,' the Medic said, stepping forward. 'The theory goes that only the person who imprinted the pressure point can trigger it. I wonder if that's true?'

'Yes it is,' the Spy said quickly, something possessive and territorial rearing up inside him. 'I've already tested that.' Another lie.

'Ah, pity. I'd love to have a go at it myself though. Imagine what you could do with a pressure pointed enemy! Though, I presume you already have been...'

'Well, the RED Heavy's their other newest member,' the Spy said, ignoring Medic's snide comment. This was his Sniper. The Medic couldn't have him.

'Hmm. I'm not sure a Heavy would be the most suitable target. Though I could perhaps get Andrzej to help me with him...but no, their Medic would come looking for the Heavy, and he's bound to know about pressure pointing too. Pity. I'll just have to wait until their Scout gets replaced. Or maybe their Engineer. Pyro wouldn't work, it'd be too much effort trying to cut through that suit every time. A Spy would be easy to overpower but hard to find, hmm...'

'Well, it's all speculation until RED gets a new man or you get transferred somewhere else,' the Spy said, cutting the Medic off before he could continue his rambling. Personally, he preferred the second option, but the Medic seemed too happy where he was to ever want to transfer.

'Ah yes, I guess,' Medic said wistfully.

'Talking about transfers, won't your Heavy have come through respawn by now?'

'Oh! Oh yes!" I'd better go. I'll leave you to your... dubious business.'

'I think I'm done here,' the Spy said. He wasn't, but it was best to salvage what was left of his 'professional' reputation with the Medic. The Spy pulled his knife from his pocket. The Sniper was starting to regain his senses and might be about to attempt another escape. With great reluctance he put the Sniper out of his misery with a clean backstab. To the usual place, of course.

When he looked up at Medic he caught sight of an expression that could only be described as calculating. It was gone a moment later, replaced with something more neutral.

'Well as fun as that was, herr Spy, I need to be getting back to Andrzej. I would say, "see you soon", but if you are even a half-decent spy, I expect not to.'

The Spy decided to let that one go, just giving the Medic a curt nod in farewell. He'd keep a look out for that man though. For all that he was a coward, the BLU Medic could be a dangerous man.

That evening the Spy lay on his bed, flipping his balisong absent-mindedly while deep in thought. He found himself dwelling on his encounter with the Medic. The Spy was going to have to get those photos of him and the Heavy. It would be an unpleasant, tedious and potentially dangerous task. The Spy was also going to have to pay closer attention to his teammates. Though he didn't believe the Medic about them all making bets on his "relationship" with the enemy Sniper, it was a matter that deserved closer scrutiny. Now that the Medic had mocked him for not 'being as subtle as he thought,' the Spy was feeling paranoid. What if someone else on his team really did suspect that his interest in the Sniper was a slightly unprofessional one? Best to keep an eye out for any odd behaviour around him. And best to revisit what blackmail he had on each of them, just in case.

The Scout? His mother of course. Any threats to visit her again would keep him quiet. If not, threatening to expose his kleptomania. There were others on his team who would certainly like to know exactly where missing items of theirs were.

The Engineer's past criminal history was his weak point. It would nothing to the other mercs, most of whom had committed far worse offences. The Engineer liked to try and pose himself as the good, virtuous member of the team though. He'd hate the others to know about it, his precious little Scout especially.

The Spy could deal with the Medic and Heavy together if only he could get his hands on the right incriminating evidence.

The Soldier was tricky. The Spy would probably have to spend time worming his way into the insane man's fictional world in order to find something in his "past" that he felt guilty enough about to be able to blackmail him with.

The Demoman had already mentioned enough during his drunken rambles for any number of things to be used against him. The Scot drank to forget but often ended up loudly dwelling on his past instead. The only difficulty the Spy might have would be working out what the rest of the team already knew about.

The Pyro would be the hardest to blackmail, what with that firey temper and 'burn things first, ask questions never' attitude. However, the Pyro was also the one with potentially the most to lose if her secret ever came out.

But what about the Sniper? He was a very reserved, quiet man, and a very boring one too, from what the Spy had gathered from his snooping. What was there about him that Spy could use? What was there that he'd never want his teammates to know about? What...

The Spy's thoughts drifted off, pulled inescapably towards one particular aspect of his conversation with the Medic like a ship caught on the edge of a maelstrom.

The Medic thought that he was actually-that he'd-to the Sniper-that they'd...

The worst thing about it was that the Spy couldn't work out if the Medic thought there was something kinky but consensual going on between them or if he actually thought-as if he'd ever-that just wasn't-no. Not possibly-who would ever think he'd-

The creaking of a bed next door.

Fingers in his ears.

He couldn't drown it out.

Or the other sounds.

He didn't understand. Not really.

Knew it was a kind of violence.

Knew it was bad.

He wished it would stop.

StopstopstopstopstopSTOP!

But there was nothing he could do.

Hadn't tried.

Too scared. Too small. Too weak.

He hated it.

One day he'd be the big guy. One day he'd be the one to make people afraid.

One day he'd do the hurting; make the world pay for how little it cared.

But not this.

Never.

The balisong had cut through his glove. The Spy could feel the sting of where it had sliced through skin. He kept flipping the knife around his hand. Around and around and around. Faster and faster.

'If not you, then him.'

That threat. It crushed all rebellion left in either of them.

Except,

Except...

Except.

The balisong slipped through his blood-slicked fingers. It landed on the covers, staining white linen red. The Spy didn't notice, his eyes staring at the wall ahead, hazy and unfocused.

Except his stepfather took whatever he wanted. If he'd wanted his new woman's kid, he would have had him.

All those years... all these years, he'd thought... they'd both thought...it was the only way.

But the Spy wasn't his stepfather.

No.

Never.

His stepfather had taken whatever he wanted.

The Spy wanted the RED Sniper.

But he didn't want to be his stepfather.

So.

Which did he want more?

Next chapter: Sniper needs a haircut and RED Spy has all the answers.