Author's Note: I think that bluestonewings deserves a reward for being the single, only person who correctly guessed Carmine's identity. Well done! You win the internet, or something. How about an sfm portrait of your favourite character and loadout? I think Terminalnostalgia deserves a consolation prize for her guess, since it really made me laugh: 'the (drug?) connection between Spy and Pyro has me convinced that it's got to be a Spy' Have a friendly, laughing-with dopeslap Term! :D.

In other news, you remember that I offered a gold botkiller flamethrower to the person who guessed who the traitor in the Institute was? Well, quite a few chapters ago, one person- and one person only- guessed correctly. I'll reveal the winner next and final chapter!

I don't often get to use the word 'penultimate', so let's not miss the chance. Here's the penultimate chapter...

The Shadow On The Reef

Chapter Thirty-Five: Red, White And Blue

"Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn't." - Mark Twain

"Hands up, all three of you," Marcus ordered. "So, all this time, you were the traitor, Erwin. You disgust me."

"I was never a traitor!" Erwin hissed angrily. "Never! Carmine and I have only just met and it seems zhere has been a, hmm, huge misunderstanding." He glanced at the two men with him. The standing man was thin, with black sunglasses and a white stick, and Marcus noticed the Chinese man in the wheelchair was missing his legs from the knee down and wore a clear, plastic oxygen mask. Marcus blinked and opened his mouth, but Malcolm got there first.

"You're me," he breathed. "Yer a Demo."

"Aye," the man whispered. Marcus noticed he had a long black keloid scar across his throat, thick and knotted.

"Cobalt can't talk well. It hurts him," The man in the wheelchair- Carmine- said, with a lilting accent. He turned to look at his companion, and Marcus saw that the side of Carmine's face was covered in flat, pink burn scars, as if the flesh had melted and reset.

"Pyro," Marcus stated quietly.

Carmine nodded solemnly, his eyes dark and lacking trust.

"Oh for God's sake!" Anna snapped, rubbing her forehead. "Nothing is ever simple, is it? We need to get this sorted out. Erwin, are these two clowns any danger to us right now?"

"No," Erwin said flatly.

"Are you any danger to us right now?"

Erwin's eyes narrowed and his lip briefly lifted in a snarl. "Only if you annoy me."

Anna got her pistol out. "Just do a quick check for weapons, Marcus."

"Bien sûr," Marcus swiftly frisked the three men, earning an annoyed growl from Erwin. He looked up and idly shrugged at the furious doctor. He nodded to Anna.

"Right," She slowly lowered her pistol and holstered it. "Let's make this a temporary truce."

"Yes," Carmine said. "I will agree to that."

"Erwin! What in Sam-Hill..." Tyler burst in behind them. "Who are these fellas? Sparkie? What in God's name happened to you? Where's your suit? You go see Medic right now, y'hear?"

"Right you lot, everyone to conference room 10 before I start taking kneecaps," Anna snapped. "Move!"

The group silently moved, with Erwin occasionally calling directions to the blind Demo.

When they got the conference room, Tyler put on a pot of coffee and they all sat down. The damp air filled with the smell of mud and sweat from Erwin's clothing, and Marcus carefully took a chair as far away from the filthy doctor as possible.

"Ok, let's start with why, precisely, you're alive, Erwin," Anna said.

"Oh, zhat is easy," Erwin said, waving a hand that shook slightly with exhaustion. Tyler patted him on the shoulder and handed him a steaming mug. He nodded his thanks and gave the Engineer a tired smile. "Vhen you first suspected me of being a traitor, I knew execution vas a possibility. So I, eh, did a little swap. You vill find you switched off Albrecht's respawn, not mine. I suggest you switch it back on now."

"But you didn't respawn," Anna said flatly. "I saw the...results. It was very, well, splattery. We buried you!"

"I put a six hour delay on respawn, so ja, you buried me. Zhen I respawned," Erwin continued. He shrugged. "My original, zhe Violet Medic, helped design respawn, remember? I know a lot about how it vorks."

"That's why you confessed," Marcus said in horrified awe. "You did not want to be imprisoned. Getting executed- that was your escape plan!"

Erwin shrugged idly. "Basically, ja."

"Next time, ask someone else to shoot you," Tyler grumbled. "I've had a helluva day, I'll have you know."

"Clever, yet totally bloody horrible. Classic Medic," Malcolm added. "So, now you're saying that confession o'yours was a lie? You didn't try to kill Jacques?"

"Nein, of course not! I had to pretend. It vasn't difficult- it seems everyvone found it very easy to believe me a murderer," Erwin sniffed disapprovingly, and then sighed sadly and looked down. "Jacques...he vas good company. A friend. I, ah, don't have many. Ah, Gott! Zhat experiment vent so badly wrong. Sacrifices must be made to advance science, but...zhat vas not one I vanted to make. Poor Jacques. In future, I shall check zhat zhe patient has a strong immune system so zhat zhe infection does not advance to zhe viraemia stage. I zhink zhat zhe radiation poisoning caused..." Cobalt, sitting in the seat next to him, subtly nudged him. "Vell, never mind zhat."

"My heart bleeds for you," Marcus said sarcastically. Erwin gave him a venomous glare, but Marcus just continued. "You turned him into a monstrosity, and yet you feel more sorry for yourself."

Carmine looked around the room, and he frowned slightly. "Erwin thinks Jacques is dead, but he isn't, is he?"

Malcolm, Anna, Marcus and Tyler looked at each uncertainly. Tyler cleared his throat. "Nope. He survived."

"Vhat?!" Erwin leapt to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. His face lit up with the first genuine smile Marcus had seen on it for quite some time. "Oh, zhank God! Zhis is excellent news! Vhat state is he in? Is he alright? How did he survive zhat fall? I need to see him right now! I promised him I vould reverse any changes he did not vant, and I have had time to zhink of a few more ideas on how to..."

"Hang on a danged second. You just said Jacques had radiation poisoning?" Tyler asked. "Since when?!"

"Oh, shut up!" Anna shouted, hitting the table with her fist. "We'll get back to Jacques later. Right now, I want to know...everything else. In particular, I want to know why I'm sitting face to face with a murderous Peruvian drug-baron whose is determined to destroy us. Um, no offence."

Erwin glanced over at Carmine, who shrugged.

"Vell, as it turns out, zhis is all our fault," Erwin stated. "Ve have done Carmine a great and terrible wrong. Vell, not everyone at zhe Institute- just one of us."

"Who?"

"Gerhardt Weiss."

With a sigh, Erwin sat back down and started to explain what had happened to him after the execution.

Earlier that day, Erwin had realised he had forgotten how unpleasant Respawn actually was.

He appeared in the white-tiled room, gasping and spluttering. He clutched at his head and sank to the floor.

"Gottverdammte. Ich hasse alles... Schieß drauf..."

For a moment, he sat and panted, trying to make his body move, even though his arms and legs seemed to want to stay exactly where they were, thank you very much. His head spun, and the shot, the sound of the bullet hitting his skull, slammed around and around in his mind...

Move. Move, damn you.

With a groan, he sat up, and then hauled himself upright against the wall. He looked about, and realised that this was not the respawn room had had expected to appear in. He drew a sharp breath and held it, forcing his ears to listen out for the slightest sign of anyone passing. However, it was silent and, wherever he was, there was nobody about. The usual supply locker was there, and he quickly loaded up with a spare syringe gun and a wicked looking little knife that no doubt belonged to Spy. He knew he didn't have much time, so he cautiously staggered to the exit and peered out. He could see abandoned scaffolding out there, and knew he was on one of the new islands they had taken over- 03, if he wasn't much mistaken. He breathed out slowly through his nose. Well, that was perfect- far better than the room off the lobby he had expected to appear in. There was a teep station just to his left, and very few people ever came here. He took a deep breath, and left the room. It was time to leave the Institute for good, and go...where?

He reached the teleports and paused, considering his options. Medic Gerhardt was already out there, so he could not stay in the US. Too many questions. Canada? No...too lawful. There were no openings for a disgraced doctor's questionable business there. So, it had to be South America.

Oh. He stared at the teleport. Peru. He blinked, trying to get his sluggish and shocked mind to think of another possibility. The problem was that now his curiosity had been piqued. That had always been his weakness. If he didn't go, wouldn't he always wonder what would he could have found out? He squared his shoulders and punched in a code for their base camp, back in Peru. Not that it would still work, of course, surely someone would have disabled it...

With a gentle hum, the teleporter spun up and started to shine with blue light. Well, it seemed that they had been even less competent than he realised. He stepped onto the teleport.

Warm, stinking heat greeted Erwin as he emerged in the jungle and stepped neatly off the pad. For a moment the sounds of birds and insects, the smell of wet earth, and the soughing of the wind in the trees brought back horrible memories that paralysed him. I can't do this, I can't, I can't, I can't... He felt trapped, unable to breathe. He legs crumpled under him, and he dropped to the leafy, damp floor. HIs heart hammered in his chest, and he remembered the room, the chair, the straps, the smell, the... the... the...

He forced himself to take a deep breath. That room was gone. It was gone. It. Was. Gone. Demo had blown it up. It was gone. Another deep breath. He forced oxygen into his lungs. Calm down, you fool. Just a little longer, and then you can go and drink yourself to death.

He reached for a handy dead branch and quickly cut a square out of his white labcoat and clumsily threaded it onto the pole with trembling hands. It was crude, but it was the best white flag he could manage. It might mean he didn't get shot on sight, at least. Maybe. How honourable would Carmine be?

He staggered off through the forest, in the direction he more or less remembered the Plantation was in. It was a lot harder travelling without a Sniper to guide him, and he slipped frequently on the soggy ground or got hit in the face by branches. He hastily slapped away any insects that came near and ended up covered in sticky insect slime as well. By the time he heard the sounds of hammering and drilling, he was shaking with exhaustion.

He smiled grimly and circled closer to the Plantation. Scorched black earth streaked out from a central location, but a fresh skeleton of timber was taking shape. Men called to each other in Spanish as they sawed wood or drilled screws into the structure. A man walked past his position with a beam over his shoulder, idly whistling as Erwin stepped out into the clearing, waving his flag. The man dropped the wood quickly and reached for a knife on his belt.

"¡Quedarse quieto!" He shouted, pointing his knife at the scruffy doctor.

Erwin froze to the spot, and waved his flag pointedly. He rummaged through his prodigious memory, trying to remember if he had ever heard any useful Spanish during his capture here.

"¿Llevarlos a Carmine, bitte?"

"¿Quien?" The man looked puzzled and looked around. "Sólo puedo ver..."

"I vant to see Carmine," he said as slowly. "Carmine." He waved the flag again, and spread his hand in what he hoped was a gesture of peace. The man looked at him suspiciously.

"Why?"

"You speak English?"

"Everyone does. From TV," He replied. "You are enemy. Very evil man, Carmine says."

"Nein, ah, no, I'm not. I don't zhink I am, anyvay, I... ahh, Scheiße. I vant to see Carmine. I am from zhe Institute." The man looked puzzled. "From Pauling."

"Pauling!" The man said in surprise, and then laughed. "Carmine hates. You die! You meet him, you die."

"Can I meet him?"

"You die," The man repeated with a snort, and then gestured him to follow. "Come."

Erwin was taken into a small wooden shed-like building that seemed to have been hastily built from old timber and canvas. The door was just a flap of threadbare material, which his guide pushed out of the way. Inside were a few sticks of half-burnt furniture and a whirring fan that constantly clicked as it rotated.

"You. Why did you come back?"

Erwin blinked in the sticky dimness of the shack, and looked down to the voice that had spoken to him. There, in a wheelchair and wearing a clear oxygen mask, was...Pyro. Erwin blinked, but no...it was still Pyro. His expression was one of utter loathing- he looked like he wanted nothing more than to tread on Erwin like a cockroach.

"...Pyro?" Erwin breathed. "Vell zhat explains...absolutely nozhing."

"Pyro is dead- he died many times. I am Carmine."

"Vhere..." Erwin stammered. "But...I zhink...Vhat..."

There was a low growling noise behind the doctor, and another man stepped into the room, shoving him to one side roughly and then placing a strong hand on his arm, holding it tightly.

"Demo?"

The man's head swung around towards the sound of his voice, and he nodded slowly. Erwin could just make out the sunken sockets of his ruined eyes behind the dark glasses.

"Vhy..." Erwin cleared his throat. He could feel his head starting to spin, and staggered sideways. "Vhy everyzhing! Vhat is going on?!"

"You don't know?" Carmine spat, his eyes narrowing with such hatred Erwin was surprised he didn't burst into flames on the spot. "Don't you remember?"

"Remember vhat?"

"He doesnae even care," Demo croaked. He spat on the floor in disgust. Carmine leaned forward, placing scarred hands on the dented table in front of him.

"You think dying your hair black would fool me? You think I'd not know the face of the White Medic? The man who shot me?"

"My hair isn't dyed. Some of us have..." Erwin blinked. "Are you sure you didn't...ohh...maybe you don't know how many of..."

"You shot me, White Medic. You shot me and left me to die," Carmine interrupted. "In Sawmill. Four years ago." Carmine snarled. "So I died, and I died, and I died."

"...Sawmill?" Erwin said, puzzled until a memory struck him:

The Clones' Rebellion had invaded Sawmill in the middle of the night. Their plan: get to the hidden teleporter to TF industries, and storm the headquarters of the Administrator. It would fail horribly, but at the time, they hadn't known that.

The RED Pyro had just appeared, apparently taking a night-time walk. They knew that they had non-custom bullets, but before they could debate condemning the Pyro, Medic had grabbed Spy's pistol and shot the man three times.

Medic knew what would happen: Respawn would not remove the bullets, and the Pyro would awake in respawn and die again from the bullet wounds. Again, and again, and again, until the mind and body was shredded into pieces by the constant death and rebirth, constant agony.

Gerhardt Weiss had done what had had to be done. After all, sacrifices had to be made in wartime...

"Oh, Gott..." Erwin breathed out. "You survived. After everyzhing, you survived. How did..."

"I died many times," Carmine said, his nails digging into the table and scoring it. "A hundred times, that night, with nobody to know. Each time, the same pain. In the morning, our Medic found me. For weeks, I died many times each day, agony each time, until he got the last bullet out. Every time I died, I saw your face."

Erwin swallowed, his throat suddenly tight and constricted. Strictly speaking, it hadn't been him who had shot this Pyro. It had been the man he had been cloned from, whose memories he carried. But in his mind, it was his hands holding the gun, taking a rough aim, and firing. At the time, it had been essential, but now he looked into the tortured eyes of the man in front of him and could not look away.

Was he guilty? As a clone, was any of this his fault? How could he tell? How could anyone tell? Where did Gerhardt's choices end, and his begin?

He felt an odd, deep sickness, as if his soul had been coated with a thin layer of slime. Guilt. He closed his eyes slowly. Perhaps I did deserve to die, after all.

"Revenge. It vas revenge," He said hoarsely. "Zhat is vhy you had me tortured. You did not vant information. You just vanted me to suffer."

"You deserved it. You did," Carmine said with a snarl. "And I would do it again."

"Vhy did you attack zhe Institute, zhough? All the ozhers- vhat did zhey do?" Erwin demanded, clearing his throat and standing more upright.

"You killed so many, and you want to know why I want you all gone?" Carmine sneered.

"So many?" Erwin asked, frowning in puzzlement.

"Your 'Institute'," Carmine spat. He looked up at the blind Demo. "Two years ago, before the robots came. The saws jumped from their tracks and cut us all. Everyone else died-except me. I was hurt, but I could walk, so I walked. Then the cuts from the saws, they festered, and..."

"You burnt your own legs off to save your life," Erwin said softly. Carmine nodded.

"Cobalt was at Nucleus when it... lit up. His eyes were burnt out, and he hurt his throat. We were lucky. We escaped. We found each other, and swapped tales. All the others, died."

"I know," Erwin said solemnly. "I remember it all."

"And then, as we recovered, there it was on the news: you and your nine friends had 'escaped' when everyone else had died. Escaped without a scratch. You got to be heroes!" Carmine spat the word. "You killed all of us, your brothers, because you did not need us anymore," Carmine paused briefly, "That is the only way you could have survived when no one else in the Gravel Wars did. You mass murderers survived and got to live in your Institute. We sell cocaine, to survive. I am a bad person, I know this. And yet, you are so, so much worse. You deserve to die."

Cobalt made a low growling noise.

"You...think ve ordered your deaths. Everyone's deaths, so ve could get all zhe money and be heroes," Erwin stated. He cleared his throat again, trying to resist the urge to laugh. A mad chuckle escaped his lips, and he slapped a dirty hand over his mouth. It was hopeless- the whole situation was too insane, too ridiculous, and he started to laugh, and laugh, tears streaming from his eyes, snot from his nose, his voice rising and becoming higher and hysterical until Cobalt punched him.

In the final chapter: Can Carmine and the Institute negotiate? And will Tim's memory live on?