Hey guys! So sorry for such a long wait. I was on vacation for a while, and haven't had a lot of inspiration lately. I really pushed myself though to write something tonight, so sorry if it seems a bit rushed. I hope you guys like it!
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Ironically, Medic was the first to get sick. It was four days after physical that month that the German physician nearly found himself collapsing at the breakfast table in front of his colleagues. The previous day had been a particularly grueling battle, with neither side managing to capture the other's intelligence. With a heavy downpour at the Sawmill field, there was more than just enemy fire RED team had to be wary of. Even the next morning the storm continued, wind rocking the base's wooden walls with low whines.
"Doc, you okay?" Engineer glanced over to the physician clutching the kitchen counter as he tried to place his dirty dishes in the sink. The plate and glass fell from Medic's shaking hands, shattering when they hit the floor. The rest of the team, not including an absent Pyro, looked up from their own breakfast, yet only Engineer made a move to Medic's side.
"Ja, ja, just a little tired..." mumbled out Medic, closing his eyes and using his free hand to massage his head.
"Ye look a little pale there too," pointed out Demoman, digging into his eggs while eying the doctor. Engineer placed the back of his glove-less hand to Medic's forehead before wincing and quickly pulling it away.
"Doc, you're burnin' up!" the Texan said, reaching to take a hold of Medic's arm. "I think you need to really lie down."
"Nein, I am fine!" bit out Medic, feebly trying to pull out of Engineer's hold.
"It appears today will be ceasefire then," mused Spy, a near empty plate in front of him. "I will go inform the administrator."
Before Spy could get up from his seat, Soldier, sitting next to him, grabbed the Frenchman's shoulder to hold him in place.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean, crouton? We're all going into battle! I don't want to hear about some hot head slowing us down," he barked, and Spy raised a brow.
"I believe the technical term is fever."
"Spook's right," added Sniper, pointing his fork at Soldier, a bit of bacon still on it. "If the doc ain't feeling good, it's best we call for ceasefire. I'm not keen on getting my ass kicked again and going through respawn ten times more on account of having no medic out there."
"Nah, c'mon Sniper, you go through respawn ten times more than anyone else normally," gibed Scout, cereal and milk spilling from his full mouth. Sniper merely glared.
"Herr Soldier, is correct. I am perfectly-"
"Woah!" Engineer steadied Medic, as the German suddenly starting falling forward. Slowly, the Texan eased him to the ground.
"Uh, I think the Doc passed out."
And so, RED team found their medic bedridden for the rest of the day. Despite Soldier's adamant nonsensical resistance, Spy requested a ceasefire for the day, only to be denied. Forced outside to lightening and heavy rain, the team readied to face miserable defeat without Medic's invaluable support.
Needless to say, when Medic still hadn't gotten better the following day, Helen had the decency to call an indefinite ceasefire until the RED team's doctor recovered. She didn't expect the ceasefire to extend to five days.
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Scout vaguely felt himself moving, even though his feet were clearly not touching the floor. The American willed his eyes open, just a peek, to see the hall in front of him. He blinked, feeling rubber against his cheek. If his nose wasn't stuffed near damn unbreathable, he reckoned he would smell smoke.
" 'ro?" Scout mumbled, eyes once again closing.
"Mmow mphr mpo mgginhling?" Pyro glanced over his shoulder at the young man he was currently giving a piggy back ride to. Scout didn't respond, already nodding back off as Pyro shifted his weight a bit. The mercenary sighed. With Scout falling ill, that left Pyro the only healthy person in base, and thus, solely responsible for ensuring that everyone else managed to get through this sickness that had managed to effect everyone. Contrary to Pyro's previous preconceptions, the medigun nor respawn could heal such issues - rather, the virus would have to run its course. No matter, Pyro nodded, intent on remaining optimistic. Under his watch, surely the team would be back in tip top shape and-
Pyro yelped, barely dodging a pillow as he entered the common room. The entire team was gathered there, couches pushed to the walls to allow room for an enormous blanket bed to be set up. With Scout out of commission, Pyro knew the best way to treat all his friends was to put them in one room. In hindsight, eight mercenaries in an enclosed space for who knows how many days was not the best plan.
"I know you took all my bloody tissues, Spook!" Sniper was currently waving a jar of piss in Spy's direction, barely able to stand in his kangaroo pajamas and red blanket hanging off his shoulders. The Australian looked infinitely older that Pyro had ever seen him, with uncombed hair, stubble that was nearing a beard, and bags so deep that philosophers would probably spend years trying to figure them out. A dribble of snot peeked out from one nostril, only to be pulled back up as Sniper let out a loud sniff, red nose wrinkling.
"I have no idea what you are talking about." Lounging just a few feet away on the blanket bed with a sort of wall of fabric pushed up to surround himself, Spy had a magazine up to his nose. Even with his mask, it was clear he was unwell - the pallid skin, sunken eyes, and dry cigarette-less lips gave it all away. The Frenchman turned a page, not looking at all uncomfortable in his suit pants and button-down. To Pyro's surprise though, his vest, gloves, and jacket were missing, another sign of something being terribly out of place in the RED base.
"Ach, vill you please be quiet? I am trying to vatch zis. You can have mine," Medic said, idly shaking his nearly full tissue box in Sniper's general direction. The first to get sick, the German was perhaps the closest to feeling one hundred percent, but insisted on taking it easy, a far cry from his earlier reluctance to even admit he was sick in the first place. Leaning back into a comfortable pile of pillows, remote and cup of tea at his side, the good doctor looked to be taking a day off for leisure rather than illness. Wearing simple plaid pajamas, and a matching blanket draped over his legs, the only sign he was ever sick was the slight scratchiness of his voice, disheveled hair, and peeling skin on his slightly red nose from over excessive blowing in the past days. If anything, Pyro would say the physician had gotten used to being taken care of, and was abusing what few days he had left of doing nothing.
"Mmys mpls mphm mmpwn," Pyro placated, making his way over and gently settling the sleeping Scout into an empty spot he had prepared next to Demoman. The Scotsman looked unusually down since the flu hit him, wrapped up in a red blanket over his pajamas. Partially, Pyro knew it was because he had forbid Demo from any alcohol (though he also knew that the mercenary had a stash somewhere and was definitely having a few sips when Pyro wasn't around). Still, it didn't worry the short merc any less - Demoman being so quiet was just as odd as Spy without his full suit on. Like Sniper, his stubble was starting to grow out and bags had settled under his exposed eye.
"I am absolutely calm," drawled Soldier, like Medic, laying in a pile of pillows, "In fact, we're all calm. Except Bilbo Baggins."
"Yeah, that's because no one stole your tissues, you wanker!" barked Sniper, sinking into his blanket with a scowl. Soldier gasped, one hand moving to settlle against his food-stained pajama top in what seemed to be genuine offense.
"I don't appreciate that attitude," said Soldier. The American patriot had been a particularly difficult patient, but nothing a hazardous amount of cold medication couldn't fix. Not only did Soldier's symptoms subside, but he was much more docile, similar to when Medic put him under pain medication - it seemed that not just Soldier's mind was particularly sensitive, but his physiology, to foreign invasions. He hadn't even complained when Pyro helped him settle in the common room without his helmet. Simply patted the shorter man on the back with a gracious thanks, before snuggling into a pile of pillows next to Demoman.
"Mll mpht mpo mpnthr mpssue mmocx," said Pyro, placing his hands on his hips as he assured Sniper that he would soon get another box of tissues. "Mhs mmphrryun mphrtrle?"
"Heavy would like another book from his room," spoke up the largest member of the team. Two blankets were pulled over his massive soldiers, and a growing pile of Russian literature was starting to accumulate around his side of the blanket bed, dangerously close to disturbing Engineer's pillow fort and Spy's blanket barrier. Heavy, compared to everyone else, was perhaps the best patient that Pyro had ever had. He took his medicine, ate his food, and didn't fuss over anything. All he needed was a good book, and he would be busy for hours. This low amount of resistance and stress on the patient side was probably why Heavy looked nearly as healthy as Medic, with only a red nose and the occasional cough. Pyro shot him a thumbs up confirmation.
"Don't worry about us too much, pardner. We'll be back to normal in no time," assured Engineer, shooting Pyro a wide smile. It didn't have much of an effect, given that the Texan sneezed immediately after. Between trying to help the healthy take care of the sick, and sneaking off to his garage to go work, Engineer wasn't exactly the easiest to deal with when ill. Pyro knew he meant well, and was probably more use to taking care of people than being taken care of, but he needed the American to stay in one place and just rest. The only time Engineer seemed entirely comfortable doing that was if he was practicing his guitar, or having a beer in the sun.
"Speak for yourself, laborer. I expect my soup will be ready soon." Spy raised an eyebrow at Pyro, looking up from his magazine with expectance. Pyro gave the Frenchman a weak thumbs up, trying not to let it show that he hadn't even begun working on lunch for the group yet.
"And some tissues," added Sniper, his face only visible now as he cocooned himself in his blanket, presumably with jarate at his side. "Or I swear to God, all of you will be tasting my snot.
"Shhhhh!" shushed Medic, reaching to turn up the volume to his program, which Pyro realized was a Star Trek rerun. The merc groaned inwardly, wishing for a moment that he was sick too, and could simply lay down and watch his favorite show. And this was the episode where Kirk and Spock went to the past too!
Unfortunately, he was stuck taking care of his sick comrades. Pyro withheld a sigh, dismissing such negative thoughts as he turned and headed to the kitchen to prepare lunch. It wasn't too bad, he nodded. It was almost like spending time with them all, like a big slumber party. Except, well, they were all sick, grouchy, demanding, and Pyro was probably going to need a mini-vacation after they all recovered.
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So, not sure if its canon or not regarding the medigun and respawn, but for the sake of this story I'm going to say no. Let me know what you think. Also, since I'm having a tough time coming up with ideas/motivation, please include what you would like to see in your reviews!
I really appreciate all the reviews you guys are sending too, it's really great to know that a lot of people enjoy what I write. I know I'm a slow updater, so I'm extremely grateful so many of you continue to show interest in this series! Thank you so much for all your support everyone!