So hard to breathe…
The heat, it was everywhere. It wasn't letting him go. That arid desert rushing into his lungs…
"Whot do ya mean bullets dannae do nuthing?" Demo asked, eye wide in disbelief. He took a breath to say something, to tell him to listen, that he was telling the truth-
The camper ceiling was shimmering like a mirage, he wanted to reach out and watch the tin wrap itself like mist around his fingers. But he couldn't move. That desert was filling his head with sand, he was an hourglass with those blistering grains coursing through his veins, rubbing him raw and dry. So warm, his lips were broken up like cracked dirt, tongue was so dry.
Rainfall, muffled, in the fog he couldn't get through. That black fog that kept him down, coating him in a heat so vicious he couldn't breathe… that rain, he wanted it. That rainfall made up of words. The droplets were letters and sounds, he wanted them, he wanted to hear them fully.
He wanted water, he wanted-
The blood seeping from his ankle was dissipating into the puddles covering the road he limped down. No more heat could be found in his body, he was shivering from the freezing rain. Shivering from what he'd seen. Shivering from what he did.
He had to get away. As far as possible, but the trees went on for miles. Where could he go? That rain pounded against his skin, flattening his clothes against him. He was covered in water. He was-
Covered in sweat, now an unbearable cold had settled just below the surface of his skin. White hot ice. It would pulsate whenever something grazed his skin, forcing goosebumps to rise and a thousand searing needles to pierce into his immobile body. Water, words, he needed those.
A coldness, one true and good rested on his head, piercing that horrible fog, allowing him a moment of vision. The cold placed on his head tipped the hourglass back over, the sand spilling out if just a little bit, and he spotted a figure through the fog. He knew that person, he trusted him, he'd help.
Noises tore his throat apart, that desert air rushing through. It hurt. That feeling in his throat. It hurt.
IT HURT! His joints were being strained to their limits and past even that. He shoved it with all his might, beating an eye with the grip of his pistol. It did nothing. Those voices, laughing, pushing him down deeper into the mud, almost sounded like a song-
That rainfall of words became a shower of tunes. A quiet, blue tempo, snaking through the air. He recognized it. Somewhere. That jazz, it was good. A blue tune tipping the hourglass when the sand filled too much. It stopped too soon, that melody. He wanted that rainy day song. He wanted to know what it was. What was it called?
"Vhat is zat thing!?" Medic shouted, an emotion lacing his words that so rarely did. Disgust. And boy was the doctor right, what was that thing!?
His hand would be filled with a warm something sometimes. He couldn't tell what it was through that dark fog, but it was a good thing. He knew that much. The rainfall of words would start when his hand was warm and stuck, those words were nice, they had nice things to say.
He wished he could talk to them back, tell them to turn the hourglass again, the sand was filling his head again.
Water, brushing against his lips. Cool, clear water. The drought was gone, his desertification was delayed. He opened his mouth to drink it down.
NO! He swatted at the arms, at those snaking limbs. He fought back, mind racing faster than his heart. Faster than he'd ever ran before, for a way to escape. The rain peppered it, little trails of opal liquid dripping off the thing. It grabbed his hair and slammed him into the dirt, mud caking his back. Screaming all profanities he could think of at that thing, he had given it an opening. It shot forwards, grabbing his jaw and ripped his mouth open wider. All of its eyes narrowed in wickedness.
That rainfall of words had stopped for so long, he was alone. The hourglass hadn't been tipped, the heat was building, he wanted it to stop. To cool down. Please.
Please let him go, please stop, please stop, it hurts so much, he couldn't take it anymore!
A thunderclap of noise broke through his dry spell, a triumphant shout of success, and then the rainfall started again, but this one felt better than anything, better than everything. That cold it brought wasn't only tipping the hourglass, it was cracking it, the sand spilling out and falling out from his veins. A wonderful blue enveloped the black-
He was free and racing through the trees. Heart racing, feet pounding, the only thing he wanted was to get as far from that thing as possible. But he couldn't. It was still there. He could feel it. Threatening to split him open. But he still ran, and he heard more footsteps. Loud splashes over the deafening rain. Someone… someone had survived too!
He shot through the trees, vision darkening, and stumbled onto the flooded road. He looked up at what he thought at first was another tree. But trees weren't Australian, and trees didn't dress up in clothes. Trees didn't have blood dried up on one side of their face.
That was Sniper.
The cool blue made the fog grow lighter and lighter, the heaviness in his limbs feeling so faint, and he was laying on a cot, staring at a dark tin ceiling that shimmered in his vision. A warmth was around his hand, and a pleasant cool around everything else. He looked down from the ceiling.
He knew this guy, this guy that looked like his brother but wasn't, this guy who was now knelt by the bed, holding his hand, and resting his head on the mattress by the runner's chest. Around them was a glowing, mystifying blue light. He knew what that was too. It was good. It was so, so good.
He pulled his hand out from the marksman's own, a challenge from the strength. Then, ruffled the man's hair with a smile. A silent thank you. The runner would then lie back down as he succumbed to a dreamless, temperate sleep.
Warmth. Not that blistering, unbearable, arid heat that consumed Scout's mind for what felt like years. No, this… this was good. It was soft, and comfortable. It felt like…
Home. A very specific home but, yeah, home. Like… sleeping in during the weekend in April or… something like that. A place he wanted to stay in for as long as possible. So he did, content to just let the warmth stay with him, and he himself staying warm. After so long of nothing but hypersensitive touch and parched throats, this was heaven.
Wait, no, yeah, he was still thirsty. Maybe he could wait a little longer…
…
No, his throat was starting to hurt, he wanted some water. And that meant actually opening his eyes to get some. Okay, easy.
It actually wasn't easy. It felt like someone had glued ten ton weights to his eyelids, making it super hard to open them. But once Scout did, everything came into focus.
He was in a bed, not his, but it was familiar enough to not panic. Lying on his back, facing the deep grey ceiling, Scout felt the multitude of blankets weighing him down and the pile of pillows behind him. So that was where the warmth was coming from. And to his side, was his loyal Mr. TruffleSnuffle. Besides him, though, Scout was completely alone. At least, from where he lay he couldn't see anyone else.
The camper(ah, right, the camper was what he was in) was empty of its owner, leaving Scout all by himself. Through the window to his left, the softest white light faded in from the outside. It was raining, but barely, with the sky mostly just being overcast and foggy. Through the clouds, the sun still shone through, making it hard to look up at the sky because of how bright it was. It was actually pretty pretty.
While Scout was the only one left in the van, there were enough things to keep his attention from disappearing. For one, the open boxes of first aid kits lying on the counter. He couldn't make out what was missing from them at his angle. Next was the pile of clothes on the ground. It looked damp. He could make out one of his shirts there. There was a shiny brass instrument, what was it called again? And finally, the thing that really got his mind and heart racing, was the working Medigun right beside the coffee machine, it's brilliant blue aurora beam gently wrapping itself around him, fading into his skin. It didn't look to be at full power with the blue light sometimes flickering and fading away, but it was working.
He fixed it. He actually fixed it!
Where was he anyway?
Scout made to sit up, only to find out he couldn't push himself up. His arms felt like they were made from pipe cleaners, and whenever he tried to get his elbows under him, they would shake and tremble from the effort and he'd be forced to stop. It didn't help that his left arm hurt. Like, it hurt a lot. Well, it was more sore than anything but man. And not only that, his head felt mushy and prickly, maybe sticky too? And there was a stinging somewhere, like when you get scratched. Not enough to draw blood but enough to make you red and thump under your skin. Yeah, it was stinging a lot. But where?
Once again, he tried sitting up, and, after ignoring his screaming limbs, managed to get his head off the pillows. But something stopped him. He reached a point where he couldn't bend, like, his spine wouldn't curve anymore. That wasn't a good sign. Scout flopped back down, exhausted. He then crossed his arms. Or tried to, one was far shorter than he remembered it being. What the h*ll happened to it? Well, that was probably why it was so sore.
There was something else, too. He could feel it, beneath the blankets, beneath his shirt. Rough and stiff, that was what was making him so unbendy. Slipping his hand beneath the covers, Scout gingerly pulled at his shirt, and even that felt like a challenge. As he pulled it up, his fingers brushed against something coarse and grainy. He recognized that feeling…
His heart began to race. Oh no.
Oh no…
He knew!
Scout finally managed to sit up just enough to prop himself up with the pillows. He was still mostly horizontal, but still. When would he get back, where had he even gone?
Why was he gone? Did, did something happen to him? Was he driving or something? No, the van wasn't rocking slightly, and the trees outside weren't moving. Maybe he was hunting or some outdoorsy crap like that, sounds like something he would do. Or… or maybe… maybe he was… Scout couldn't think up any more ideas. But his friend- teammate was, wait no, hadn't… hadn't he heard… no, but he was asleep, right, when he heard… maybe? But Scout had heard something about friends, didn't he? Or was his mind just playing tricks on him, giving him a stupid little hope so that he'd make a fool out of himself. How often does that happen? Too many times. Too many d*mn times to count. And yet he kept falling for it, his stupid mind's tricks.
Not this time. Sn- he, Scout wasn't his friend, they were just good teammates, that's all. So then where was his teammate? As he sat there, silently, reaching over to grab his pig and hug him, Scout turned towards the window and watched for anything. The small droplets running down the panes of glass, the trees slightly swaying, the brilliant sunbeams breaking through the overcast sky. Maybe he was just out for a walk, cause it was super pretty outside. That sounded like something he'd do. He wanted to go outside too. He wanted to run. But he couldn't feel his legs. Were they still there? …yup, just super tired and weak. No running today. So Scout waited.
…
Man, he could really use some water right now, he couldn't even swallow. Hopefully he'd be back soon. Or… or maybe he shouldn't, because now he knew, and Scout hadn't wrapped up those bandages, which meant he knew and they were going to have to talk about it. Or… or maybe not, maybe he didn't care about the cuts, just doing the bare minimum to cover them, and he wouldn't ask about them at all. Although, that train of thought just made Scout feel bad so, really, he really didn't know which option he wanted more to happen. Whichever one happened though, was just what was going to happen.
Maybe he'd forget to ask?-
The encroaching muffled steps from outside made the runner snap his eyes towards the door in nervous anticipation. They got closer and closer, and then stopped as the door's handle jiggled and was turned. The door swung open and in stepped Sniper, shaking the rain from his hands.
As the marksman slipped off his dripping raincoat, he looked up and locked eyes with Scout. No one moved. Then, Sniper lit up with a smile.
"Hey you," He said, making his way to Scout's side. Scout flashed a grin, an inaudible hello. As the marksman sat on the edge of the bed, the runner was able to fully take in his companion's appearance.
Sniper, in no uncertain terms, looked awful. In the "at this point it's a miracle I'm still standing" kinda way. There were dark rims under his eyes, darker than normal. His hair, usually neat and swept back, was dripping wet and messy with strands falling over his forehead. And it was clear that he hadn't shaved for a while if the dark stubble was anything to go by. …Why the h*ll didn't Sniper grow a beard anyway, it made him look even cooler than normal! While Scout pondered this question, Sniper asked one of his own.
"How're ya feeling, lad?"
"Like s**t." Scout croaked before clamping his mouth shut with wide eyes. Was that his voice!? That couldn't be his voice, it wasn't even like sandpaper, it was gravelpaper!
"You look like s**t too." Sniper added, slipping off his mud coated boots.
"You l-" he tried snapping back, but his voice wasn't having it, breaking off into pain before Scout could make any retort.
"Ah, you're probably thirsty, huh?" The marksman stood and got to the sink, already getting Scout a glass of water. He tried nodding, or saying that yeah, he was super thirsty, how could you tell? But his throat was now burning like he'd swallowed hot coals.
Did Pyro ever swallow hot coals, that sounds like something she'd do, considering no one ever knew what the **** he was saying. Except maybe Hardhat-
Oh, a glass, Sniper was handing him a glass. Of water. Nice. He tried to take it, but… his fingers wouldn't-
It slipped from his hand and spilled all over his lap.
"S**t."
"...Well, at least it was water and nothing that would stain." Sniper sighed, taking the glass and refilling it. As he did so, Scout flexed his hand in confusion.
"Why-" He rasped, forcing himself to talk, "why'm I so weak?"
"You tell me." The tone might have been mad, but maybe Scout was reading Sniper's response wrong? It didn't sound happy though and that was all he cared about. So when Sniper once again came back with the full glass and instead of giving him the water, helped him drink it, Scout didn't complain. He didn't want the marksman mad at him already, he didn't want him mad at all.
The second the cool water touched his lips, Scout hit a second wind and snatched the glass, downing the water without delay, startling the marksman. A second later and the cup was empty with the runner gasping for air. He still wanted more.
"Better?" Sniper asked. Scout nodded.
"Thanks." He might have still been thirsty, but at least his voice wasn't like nails on a chalkboard now. "So, uh, what's… what's up? 'Cause you ain't lookin' too hot."
"You." Sniper replied. "Which is good, you were making me really worried for a while."
"I was?"
"You've been unconscious for around two days now."
"Two days!?"
"Two days." The marksman confirmed, running his hand through his hair, "Oi honestly didn't know if you'd survive even with the Medigun on you 24/7. You were so thin… Oi didn't know if you'd have the energy to ever wake up again." Scout sat in shock, speechless. Two days, he was- two whole days!?
"Oi mean, you got better, a bit, once Oi got that piece of junk working," Sniper jabbed his thumb towards the Medigun and Scout noticed the bandages wrapped around his hands, "your fever was whot Oi was most concerned about; you refused to cool down."
"...well, duh, I'm too hot ta handle." That earned him a look. "A-And hey, You fixed it at least!" Sniper paused, and then smiled. That smile did not match his eyes, at all. In fact, now he looked mad.
"Yup," he said through clenched teeth, "Oi fixed it. And guess whot was wrong with it?" Scout furrowed his brow.
"What?"
"You'll never bloody guess whot it runs on."
"What?"
"The reason. Whoi it wasn't working. Was because it ran out of ****ing batteries."
"...You're kiddin'..."
"Trust me, Oi really wish Oi was, there was a little compartment in… It runs on Double A batteries, and they'd been knocked loose. That was literally all that was wrong with it."
"What da h*ll!?"
"Oi've never wanted to strangle Medic more than Oi did at that moment."
"No freakin' kiddin'! Holy crap!"
"Yeah, and now because Oi meddled with it, it only working because Oi arranged it like that," Sniper groaned as he sat down, "if it's tapped or anything, it'll stop working. It's barely working as it is, it's healing slow and it still feels like moi brain's a mite loose."
"But you're okay though, right? Like, what about your ribs?"
"Those healed well enough; little spikes here and there, but Oi'm fine."
"Man, dat sucks."
"Yeah, so, moi side of thing's been pretty aggravating; don't know about yours. But Oi'm guessing your side wasn't all sunshine and rainbows either, right?"
"Not really," Scout admitted, scratching his arm, "how'd you…"
"You would wake up sometimes," Sniper explained, pulling on a hangnail, "and say things. Sometimes they wouldn't make sense, sometimes you'd talk as if you were back home, and others you'd start… telling the team to do things or not to do things. Like, you'd tell me, you'd tell me to take the shot, or, don't let him through, things like that." Scout's heart began to beat harder.
"Oh."
"And, and Oi don't know if you remember when… when Oi had to amputate your arm, but… Oi remember you saying you didn't want to be turned into a monster." His hand started to shake.
"...huh."
"Now, you were delirious so you might have jus' been overthinking things that weren't happening-"
"Yup, and ya wonder why I don't think so much." Scout interrupted, flashing a quick grin. Sniper snorted, a smirk forming on his own face.
"Maybe. But…" the smirk faded into a frown. Sniper paused, rubbing his neck, gathering his thoughts. Then, he sighed.
"Listen, Scout, we need to talk." The runner stayed silent, looking down at his arm, at his pig, at anything except Sniper. Maybe if he didn't acknowledge Sniper's words, the marksman would let it go? So he stayed quiet, and Sniper didn't respond. He knew his caretaker was watching him, waiting, Scout could feel his eyes on him. But he stayed quiet.
The prickling tension was building the longer they stayed like that, and Scout knew Sniper was patient, that Sniper would wait until he finally broke down because of that stupid awkwardness that always came with these things. He hated it, that quiet, that no noise which meant he was in trouble, being looked down on, being caught. But he wasn't going to break, not this time, he couldn't.
Even longer they sat there, and now Scout could feel every atom in his body fight to break this stalemate, this stare down. He ended up biting his tongue to keep himself quiet. That silence was filling his ears, pulsing and dense, like something solid was hindering his hearing.
Please make this stop.
"Scout?" Scout flinched at the sudden noise, "where'd you get those cuts?" He wouldn't look at Sniper. He wouldn't look at Sniper, that's what Sniper wanted. Just lie. Just lie, just like he'd been doing for weeks, just like he'd been doing since he woke up in this stupid van the first time.
"...I got them from our fall," Scout improvised, talking slow in order to think up a believable fib, "tried, tried grabbin' on the walls, and landed on my stomach, which caused all da bru-"
"Jay." The lie instantly died on his lips at the mention of his name. Scout looked up despite everything telling him not to, and met Sniper's eyes. He…
He didn't look mad. He didn't look mad… Mick was sad.
That was so much worse.
"Mate, please be honest with me," Sniper asked, "Oi know Oi haven't been treating you fairly, but Oi think Oi deserve at least that." Scout's mouth dried. No, this… this wasn't what he wanted, he didn't want Mick upset, he just didn't want him to know. 'Cause… 'cause then he'd have to…
Scout hung his head, having no idea what to say. After some time, he heard the marksman sigh. It was a deep, somber sigh, one that made Scout feel even worse.
"...Oi know that this probably isn't something you want to talk to me about, considering," Confused, Scout peered at Sniper, who wasn't looking at him anymore and wearing an expression Scout really didn't want him wearing right now, "and Oi didn't mean for you to… Oi never hated you, never stopped caring-"
"Da h*ll are you talkin' about; I don't do it because of you." Scout blurted out before realizing what he'd said. Sniper stiffened, looking back at the runner in horror.
"So you are cutting yourself?" S**t. "Then, then whoi? If Oi'm not the cause, then whoi would you do something like that?" S**T! His heart was racing, his mind was pounding- no, other way arou- aw crap, aw crap, crapcrapcrapcra-
In an act that was one hundred percent immature and with a burst of adrenaline, Scout grabbed the blanket and pulled it over himself to hide. Crap, Sniper thought he was cutting because he was making Scout sad, that wasn't! No! It was- it was-
"Scout, can you come out from there please?"
He didn't want Sniper to think it was his fault, it wasn't, it wasn't his fault, Scout just hadn't- he wanted to spill everything. But then Mick would really hate him, and who could blame him, anyone would hate Scout if Scout had been lying to their face for about a month by now. Some kind of pressure was building in Scout's chest. He couldn't tell Mick, he wanted to, he also didn't want to, it was the right thing to do, it would make Scout's life worse, his life was already pretty bad, what's one more person hating him, what's one more teammate hating him for what he decided to pull?-
"Scout?" The darkness of the blanket was lifted away, revealing a worried marksman. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses so there was no barrier, nothing to hide that concern written plainly on his face. Sniper wasn't mad, he was worried.
"...I've been lyin'. I've been lyin' ta you this whole freakin' time…"
"Whot do you mean?" Sniper asked. The runner looked away, ashamed. "Kid, whot lying; whot've you been lying about?"
"I never forgot. I never forgot what happened at Sawmill, I remembered everythin'," Scout confessed, "I just didn't want you rememberin'."
"...whoi?" He didn't like the kid's tone, there was something about it that he…
"Because you'd hate me, because everythin's my fault," Scout mumbled into the mattress, his face hidden from Sniper, "I'm da one who told you not ta shoot, and dat let it in, dat let it get ta you and cut off da power and get everyone else; it's my whole freakin' fault."
The runner's words began to itch, forming something in the back of Sniper's mind that he wanted to scratch but couldn't.
"And I left behind Heavy when he told me ta, left behind Medic when he went ta help him once he was losin', left behind Engie and Demo when we got cornered, I left them all behind when I could've helped. I could've helped but I didn't. And then I left you behind too. I'm a freakin' traitor, a freakin' cowardly traitor."
A fuzzy image of a rain soaked nest with a tin roof began to surface. That itch grew.
"And even after dat, I freakin' shot my own hand off just ta get free, so I wouldn't die like da rest of you." Sniper froze, eyes wide.
"You- You did whot!?"
"I was there with them when we tried killin' it da first time," Scout said, voice holding no emotion, "da bullets did nothin', and I still had three on me, so when it gra- when I got attacked, I shot my hand off cause dat's how… I just needed ta get free, I didn't want ta die." The runner went still, making no movement besides light shivers. Sniper knelt by him, still holding up the blanket, stock still as well.
Scout had lied about everything…
"Get up." The runner stiffened as Sniper pulled the blankets off him, "come on, get up." With some delay, Scout shakingly made himself sit up, refusing to meet the marksman's eyes. Sniper got back onto the bed, seating himself directly in front of Scout.
"You are going to tell me everything. No more lies; Oi want the truth." His tone was stern but not harsh. He didn't want Scout to end up back in the state he was in when Sniper had found him in the clearing. Although it seemed Scout had no intention of doing so. He looked completely defeated with his head hung low and eyes empty of their normal energetic light.
"Please."
"...okay." Scout sighed, "I'll talk."
"Start from the beginning, that… about me not shooting something." Sniper said, leaning in to listen. The runner nodded and took a breath.
"You'd went back ta your nest after playin' poker with da guys. Heavy gave you his earpiece because you didn't have yours and he didn't think he'd need it cause he was stayin' inside. I don't remember when you called exactly, but… you called over da line, and I was da one who pick up because I had my headpiece 'cause I always do. You said dat there was a guy, like, a guy dat looked like those messenger dudes with da TVs strapped ta their chests. And, like, sometimes we end up killin' them, outta shock or 'cause da Admin's makin' us mad, but I figured, hey, we don't need ta kill a messenger, they must have a message, right? You were wonderin' if you should snipe him, 'cause, y'know, trespassin' or some s**t. And I told you not ta do it, ta let him in. And then a bit after dat your earpiece went all staticky, and after dat da base went dark.
"It must've hit da power or somethin', but either way, it went all dark. Everyone was confused and we tried callin' for ya on different earpieces but you weren't respondin' and then things got serious 'cause somethin' must've happened ta you. Soldiah wanted everyone ta split up and look for da messenger guy so we did. Demo and Engie and Pyro, Soldier and Medic and Heavy, and me with Spy. I dunno what happened ta Spy; he cloaked immediately, so I just said "screw dat *sshole, I'm gonna go find da others." And I did; they were in da rec room talkin' about where da guy could be, and then I joined them, and then it… well, we heard it first. Like, it's growlin' and crap like dat, and then it entered.
"Everyone was shootin' except Medic and me cause… I started to but… my pistol wasn't doin' anythin' ta it, I just… but it grabbed Soldiah and sorta, it was, it sorta, like, sucked him in? And Heavy stopped shootin' 'cause Soldiah was in there somewhere, and it was growin' really big, like, just a huge wall of guts and flesh, tearin' down da walls. Dat was when Heavy told me ta run and get help, so I… I did, right before da doorway caved in, which hit my ankle and really busted it up. I thought it was trapped, 'cause now it had no way to get out, right? No, it… it dug through the floor, makin' all kinda of holes lookin' for people. I think dat's why. But it ended up chasin' me, chasin' me till I found da others. Pyro tried cookin' it and… it actually made it stop. Fire hurted it real bad. And Demo's bombs. But it still ended up… it got Pyro and we had ta run. We were chased into da main hall and we got barricaded in a room, I think it was da mess room. But I tried tellin' them dat bullets don't do anythin' and they didn't listen.
"Then it broke through and it tried gettin' us. It grabbed Demo and Engie was shootin' it, tellin' me ta do somethin'. I don't remember what. But I didn't. I didn't do anythin' but… but run away. I ran and locked da doors so it wouldn't get loose… I locked them in there with it. I just left them like dat. And I left." Scout fell silent, his retelling reaching its ending. Sniper was quiet, letting the events marinate in his mind.
It was familiar. He had spotted a bloke, one he didn't recognize, wearing a thick trench coat, and holding an umbrella. He'd called someone, who was apparently Scout. The feeling of being grabbed by something far too strong and far too big, getting thrown, trying to use his SMG, and hearing the world collapse on top of him.
"...ya probably hate me for lyin' about this," Scout started again, "can't really blame ya; I'd be pissed off too. Sorry for lyin' ta you for so long about this."
"...Scout, Oi don't hate you."
"Huh?" The runner looked up, meeting Sniper's gaze, "but, but it's all my fault!"
"You said that bullets don't do anything except slow it down; Oi would have jus' pissed it off if Oi tried shooting it. Oi don't think anything we could've done to prevent this, to be honest. You telling me not to shoot didn't cause this, if anything it would be moi fault for listening to you when Oi can think for moiself. It wasn't your fault." Scout didn't say anything, he only turned to look out the window. He didn't believe him.
Sniper stood, making his way towards the counter, feeling the runner's eyes on his back. The kid needed to both eat something, and know something. Something Sniper had been refusing to say to him.
"...Oi don't think Oi ever thanked you," he said. Behind him, he heard Scout stutter.
"F-For…?"
"For saving moi life." He grabbed a can from a cupboard.
"Uh, I mean, uh, you're, um, well, it was-"
"You save moi life at least three times."
"I… maybe I did?"
"You did," Sniper nodded, "you cut me loose from that weird pod thing."
"Well I couldn't just leave ya, I mean, I left you and I had ta-"
"You saved me from falling to moi death."
"Well, yeah, I just-"
"You kept me alive when Oi cracked moi skull open on the rocks."
"I was just-"
"And you sacrificed your wellbeing to bring me back to life," Sniper finished quietly. The sound of water boiling was the only noise for a while.
"...you said I shouldn't've done dat." Scout murmured. Sniper took a breath and began to speak.
"It was so much easier to ignore you, to jus' brush you aside when Oi only saw you as a chatty little brat," he said, fiddling with his hands, "back when Oi didn't know anything about you besides you talk a lot, you brag a lot, and you run fast. Back before you proved to be so much more.
"Oi never hated you. Sure, some things I despised you doing and that's always going to happen, but Oi never hated you. At least, when Oi'm in moi right mind," the image of a broken table corner flickered through his head, "Oi don't really hate anyone, that's still caring in a sense. It's easier to jus' stay numb. Oi jus' didn't want to care about you, it was easier that way. But… but then we were the only ones left, and Oi couldn't lose the one person who'd have any clue as to whot happened. It started out like that.
"Except then you weren't jus' a chatty brat anymore, you… kept proving me wrong. By putting yourself in danger jus' to help get me out of it. And… Oi didn't tell you it was a bad idea because it was dangerous. That wasn't the only reason. Each time you did that, do something nice, or proper, even when you could get hurt, or do get hurt, Oi'm forced to acknowledge that. That you aren't jus' a noise maker Oi'm stuck with, that you have a set of morals too. That you're… a better person than me," Sniper admitted, turning to look Scout in the eyes. "Because Oi don't think Oi'd make the same reckless choices you do for someone who would treat me like dirt in response."
"...So," Scout started, hugging his pig to his chest, "are you… did you forgive me? For leavin' ya behind?" Sniper shook his head at himself.
"Mate, Oi forgave you a while ago at this point, Oi jus' didn't tell you for whotever reason. And, and Oi'm sorry." That was one apology out of the way with many more to go.
"Oi'm sorry for being so inconsiderate, Oi'm sorry for never thanking you for saving moi life, Oi'm sorry for stabbing ya in Sawmill thinking you were it and never apologizing, Oi'm sorry for looking down on you as jus' some kid who doesn't know or do anything worthwhile, Oi'm sorry for calling your stories boring and you annoying, Oi'm sorry for blowing up at you in the mines, Oi'm sorry for, Oi'm jus'... Oi'm sorry, Jeremy, for treating you so horribly."
The runner didn't say anything for a moment, simply hiding his face in his stuffy with his ears glowing red.
"Ah, right, Oi'm not supposed to call ya that, sorry."
"It's," Scout squeaked out, "it's no prob, bob, really, it's cool."
"It's not though, is it?" Sniper replied, reaching Scout's side. He tapped the runner's shoulder, "Oi was acting like a proper *rsehole, wasn't Oi?" Scout looked up, cheeks flushed, and took the warm bowl from Sniper's hand.
"Yeah, you were kinda a jack*ss. What's this, soup?"
"A broth, because Oi'm not giving you anything too filling until your cheekbones aren't jutting out."
"But then shouldn't I be eatin' tons of stuff?" Sniper instantly shook his head.
"Not a chance, that would jus' kill ya faster."
"I… well d*mn, okay," Scout mumbled as he began to slurp up the warm liquid. He only did for a moment though, before stopping, looking strange.
"You awright?"
"Huh? Yeah, I'm okay."
"Then whoi did you stop?" Scout didn't respond. "Mate, you only had four spoonfuls; there's no way you're full."
"It's nothin', just… it's nothin'." the runner said, twirling the spoon around before taking another sip. "Thanks."
"Jus' don't want ya dying on me." Sniper replied, sitting down on the bed, "Oi don't want to have to pull another two all nighters making sure you stay alive." Scout began to cough.
"You did- then what da h*ll are you runnin' on, dude!?"
"Three pots of dark roast and spite."
"Well, you can sleep now; I'm not dyin' anymore."
"Don't tempt me," Sniper warned, "Oi'm still not done talking with you." Scout turned away.
"...look, I'll… can we talk about those later? I… I promise I'll tell you, but… later, okay?" Sniper sighed.
"...fine, but Oi'm holding you to that. And there's one more thing Oi need to tell you."
"Shoot."
"Oi'm pretty sure our team's still alive." That earned a spit take that was thankfully not directed at him.
"WHAT!?" Scout screamed, eyes wide.
"Yyyyyyeah, Oi meant to tell you earlier, about how Oi found some cocoons in the mines, before you passed out, but Oi kept forgetting; sorry."
"YOU- Nah, I- I, 'm too tired, and quit apologizin'; it sounds weird."
"Whot do you mean it sounds weird?" Sniper prodded. Scout's ears were turning red again.
"People apologizin' ta me, it's weird."
"Whoi?"
"Cause people don't do dat?" Scout said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, that there was nothing wrong with what he just said.
"...Bloody h*ll, mate, that's rubbish, Oi'm so sorry,"
"Dude, what did I literally just say?"
"Sorry."
"Shut-" Scout started before catching the smug look on Sniper's face, "oh, now you're just messin' with me."
"Now whot ever makes you think that?" he asked innocently. Scout scoffed, and finished up his meal. The pair sat in silence, one that wasn't filled with the tension of before. Then Scout made a noise that snapped Sniper's consciousness away from the brink.
He really needed some sleep.
"So," Scout started, "if the guys really are alive, then… then we have ta help them; we can't leave them like dat."
"No, we can't, but we can't go back yet either," Sniper sighed, "You're still barely alive."
"Yeah, and I don't think they'd want ta see me anyway. They'd probably kill me on sight."
"Now, you don't know that-"
"Yeah, they would, dat's what you almost did, and they've been stuck up way longer, they'll hate me."
"...if Oi can forgive you for whot you did to me, Oi'm sure they can too. Oi can't speak for the lads, but… Oi don't think they'd stay too mad for long." Sniper reassured. Scout didn't look convinced.
"I dunno about dat."
"Well, we'll only know when we free them. Until then, do me a favor."
"What?"
"Scooch."
"Wait, what-" The small cot bounced when the marksman collapsed onto the bed. Scout did indeed scooch away, giving Sniper enough room to lie down fully.
"You better not die while Oi'm asleep otherwise Oi'll kill you," he grumbled, shoving his face into a pillow, "Oi've put in way too much effort to keep you alive jus' for you to go and pass on from something stupid like a bloody brain aneurysm."
"Yeah, okay, dat makes logical sense."
"Course it… makes sense. Now shut your yapper."
"Okay."
…
"Hey Mick?" the marksman groaned.
"Whot."
"I'm gonna have da bunk tonight, this bed's lumpy." he cocked an eyebrow.
"...fine, Oi don't mind sleeping on this "lumpy" one, you can have-"
"Nah, we can split it, da bunk one. It's big enough, we won't even touch. Sides, you wanna make sure I'm not dyin' in my sleep, right?"
"..."
"Please?"
"Awright, fine, we can share the bloody bunk, now shut up. If you need something, tough luck."
"Sounds good ta me."
The day passed like that, with the pair of mercenaries falling asleep in short intervals, and staying awake in longer ones. And Scout it seemed was only getting stronger as the day went on. His voice was getting smoother, his eyes seemed to brighten, and the move that stole the spotlight was when he was able to stand without a crutch. Sniper had helped at first, because the runner still needed some help to get to his feet, but when Scout got standing and remained standing without using Sniper as a hand railing, that was cause for celebration in their eyes. Or, in Scout's eyes as he had crushed Sniper in a bear hug and then instantly punched him in the arm to cancel out the affection he'd shown.
Thank goodness for spare Double A batteries.
Despite the lateness of the night, and the deep, warm darkness that invited him, Sniper just could not fall asleep. He didn't really know why because during the day he could hardly keep his eyes open. And he wasn't really a night owl, either; at least, not for a good while. So then by process of elimination, the reason he couldn't sleep was Scout.
It made sense; the kid was directly to his right, nestled into the corner of the bed. Sure, they weren't touching, but maybe it was just the fact that someone was this close to him for such a long period of time. He never slept well with another person besides him, it was probably some psychological thing. Force of habit to not let anyone get too close.
But maybe it was also a force of habit to keep watch on the runner while he slept. Even though Scout had survived, thank goodness, he was still not up to full strength yet. He was getting there though, the still painful bruise on Sniper's shoulder was proof of that. But he still wasn't ready to stop listening, stop waiting for something that could go awry.
So far, Scout had tossed and turned about five times, mostly just shifting onto his side in his sleep. It felt like a good sign considering that the runner couldn't move at all when he was bedridden. And at that moment, Sniper heard some unintelligible unconscious murmurs behind him. Ah, right, Scout would also sleep talk.
A deep, powerful yawn ripped through the marksman's system, making his eyes water. Oh, he could really use some sleep right now. Just a little, but that didn't seem possible. Even as he shimmied as far away from Scout as he could without waking the runner up, or just leaving the bed entirely, Sniper just couldn't keep his eyes closed long enough to fall asleep.
What time was it?
Another yawn, another little murmur behind him. Though this one sounded more like a whimper. The rustle of the blanket filled his ears, followed by another soft noise.
Then the loud bang of the camper wall getting kicked snapped the marksman up and alert. Rolling onto his back, Sniper turned to look at Scout, who was tangled in the blanket. The runner was curled up with his back to Sniper, gripping the blanket with a white knuckled fist. Then he kicked the wall again with a short and quick jab. The marksman sighed.
"Oy, stop that," he grumbled, elbowing the runner's back, "have a nightmare another time." Scout stiffened at the poke, a harsh inhale filling the air. But he stopped moving and kicking. Satisfied with the result, Sniper rolled back over and once again the van was silent.
For five seconds.
The deep, shaking breaths behind his back caused the marksman to silently sigh again before he rolled back over.
"...want to talk about it?" he mumbled, words raspy from sleeplessness. Scout was noticeably less tense, no longer balled up. Through the dark, Sniper could make out the looseness of his shoulders, the limpness. That could mean anything, but for him it was safe enough to assume that Scout was exhausted instead of relaxed.
"...don't have to," Sniper said when Scout didn't respond, "jus' an idea." He lay there for a moment longer, watching the runner for any small movements that could clue him in onto what Scout wanted to do. He wasn't going to push it if Scout didn't want to talk, but something told him to wait just a little longer.
Silent they lay, and the dark was starting to drag Sniper's eyes close, when he heard the runner say something.
"It didn't happen ta nobody else…" Sniper's attention was snapped back to the runner, whose voice was quiet and monotone. "It didn't do it ta anyone else…" Neither spoke, one waiting patiently for the other to continue. The silence seemed to draw Scout's words out all on their own.
"I dunno how it caught up so fast," Scout said, his companion now completely enraptured. "I thought dat I was so far away, really far away. Even with my ankle, I never stopped movin'. It still caught up. It screamed. Like, before it chased me. I dunno why. Maybe it was mad, or wanted ta scare me. Guess dat worked, cause I just started runnin'. Even with my ankle, I… I couldn't let it get me, couldn't let it get me like da others.
"It still caught up." His voice was starting to lose its confidence, its strength. He fell silent for a time, with Sniper now fully turned to face the kid who still had his back to him. Through the dark he could make out the light trembles of Scout's shoulders.
"...I thought… dat maybe I could lose it in da trees?" he started again, much quieter than before, "Like, dippin' and dodgin' would make it get lost? Or I could climb somethin' ta… and dat's what I tried doin', ya know? Even with all da noise it was makin' behind me, screamin', growlin', and snappin' branches off, like I was bein' followed by a tsunami or somethin'. I… I couldn't let it get me. And I made it. To a real tall tree with some branches dat looked pretty sturdy, so I climbed it." He paused, taking in a breath, before continuing with a broken tone.
"I-I shouldn't've poked it, I should've just shut up, I-I just… just wanted ta make it mad, so mad, after all it did, ta everyone. Bu… but I just… I shouldn't've. Cause it just made it mad, and I knew dat, I saw it gettin' mad. And I still kept…
"...I didn't think it would just start rippin' da tree down. And dat made me, I tried, I tried ta hold on. I… It made me fall, right on top. It was so freakin' mad at me…"
Scout stopped again, this time it seemed like he wouldn't continue without some prodding. Sniper didn't. Instead he lay there, letting Scout build up enough momentum to continue or to fall back asleep. The runner curled up again, trembling more.
"...you… you don't need to keep going," Sniper tried to say, almost reaching out, "ya don't have to tell me this right now if you don't want to-
"It pinned me." Scout muttered, cutting Sniper off. The marksman eased back, listening with a somber expression as the runner forced himself to speak.
"It bit down, on my hand, and slammed me into da dirt. I… I could've fought back more, I know I could've. I dunno why I didn't. All I did was just shout at it. Ta let me go, ta go **** itself, and it just pinned me against a tree and da ground. With my legs, and shoulders. It didn't bother with my hands, maybe it… cause one was gettin' chomped and da other had my pistol? I… I don't… why did it do it?
"It didn't do it ta Demo, or you, or Medic… is it cause I'm smaller? I… maybe cause I was loud, and kept shoutin'. But it… I… it… it grabbed my jaw, and yanked my mouth op… and it went- it, I, I-I… I should've fought back more, I know I could've!..." The runner curled up even more, grabbing his shoulder so hard his nails were digging in.
Sniper didn't say a word.
"I couldn't swallow, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't even scream, and it just kept goin'," Scout was talking faster, the words pouring out of him like blood from a gunshot wound, "and- and it was laughin'. Everythin' I did wouldn't make it stop, not hittin', not bitin' down, an-and it kept pushin' me down and talkin' in… in voices, lotta voices tellin' me… teasin', and laughin', I… it hurt so bad so quickly…
"It tasted so freakin' bad, it kept goin', an- and I could freakin', freakin' feel- feel it, feel it movin', and I couldn't run away so I just freakin'- I freakin'- I had a gun, and I panicked, I- I wasn't gonna get- gonna stayed pinned, I put da barrel, I put it against my arm- I didn't even, I wasn't doin' it myself, it was like, it was like I got puppet strings or somethin' cause- and da blood, it splattered everywhere, gettin' all over both a us and it screamed and- da rain was already makin' it weak, da blood just made it- and I bit down, and it… it was still in there. And I ran, but it was still wrigglin' in- I was, I couldn't- I was too late, I tried gettin' it out, so many freakin' times, but I couldn't, and- and everythin' tasted like it, everythin', and eatin' meant dat I was givin' it food too, and I- It had to have done it for a reason, we- we ain't supposed ta have livin' things in us, I ain't- I wasn't gonna let it make me freakin' have a monster take me over- and I tried ta get it out, but I didn't- and-, a-and…" Scout's voice buckled into a hitch as the kid pulled his knees to his chest, falling completely silent.
Cold. Cold was the only thing Sniper felt as he stared at his little companion in shock. So very, very cold. He reached out and placed his hand on Scout's colder arm, who was trembling violently. After a moment with the runner not pulling away, Sniper, ever so carefully, pulled Scout onto his back to see his face. The darkness hid all the details, but he could clearly make out Scout's eyes. They reflected the small slivers of moonlight seeping through the shudders, highlighting the tears threatening to fall.
"Dat- Dat's why I was- why I have those bruises and crap," Scout confessed, refusing to meet Sniper's gaze, "I- I figured dat I was too late if I couldn't throw it up, and dat meant I- I was turnin' into it, or one of it or somethin', y'know? Cause, cause why else would it do dat, why else would it do dat ta me? Why, why else-? A-And if I could bleed? If I could still bleed red, I was still me, still a not monster. A-And if I became one? Then dat it was just, just- just practice for da real deal, in case, just in case I couldn't stop from turnin', because- cause I wasn't gonna be one, I wasn't gonna turn into somethin' dat would hurt or e-eat people who ain't done nothin', and you'd be stuck with it, with me, da monster me, and I couldn't, I couldn't let you get hurt like dat." The rambles faded into a whimper as Scout tried to pull away from the marksman's grasp. Sniper tightened his grip.
"How often have you been doing this?" Sniper asked. The runner's throat bobbed.
"A… as often… whenever I could check, w- without you knowin', and, and when I got, when I have nightmares."
Cold.
"And how often is that?" No answer. "Scout, how often?"
"Freakin'- basically every freakin' night," Scout blurted out with a gasp for air, running his hand through his hair, "I thought it was gettin' better, cause they were stoppin', but they came back an- and I just, I just needed ta know-"
Colder.
"So that thing, it… it forced itself down your throat?" He asked. Perhaps he was misunderstanding something?...
Scout nodded, eyes shut tight.
Colder.
"And… and you've been starving yourself because of that?"
Another nod.
"And after that, you started cutting, right?"
Again, Scout nodded.
Colder still.
"Whoi?" Sniper tightened his hold more, "Scout, whoi, Oi- bloody H*LL, Scout, whoi would you do that to yourself?"
"C-Cause I had ta!" Scout rasped, head ducked. "I- I dunno how ta explain it, I… I just, I had ta, okay?"
"Try."
"W-Wha?"
"Jus'... try to explain, help me understand whot this," Sniper gestured aimlessly, "whot this whole business is. Please."
"I dunno how ta!"
"Start from the beginning, at least try, okay?" The marksman let go of Scout's arm and instead held the runner's hand, giving it a squeeze. The runner at first said nothing, just content to lay silently, curled up in a protective ball. But then, he took in a breath, and began to speak.
"I… I don't freakin' get what happened, I don't, but… but we ain't got no, no freakin' idea what it does or… or why it does what it's doin', and… look, we ain't, normal monsters just rip ya ta shreds, or eat ya, cau- cause dat's what they do, right?"
"...Right?"
"Right. And, and monsters don't… real monster monsters don't freakin' open ya up and… and go down, pinnin' ya, makin' sure you can't get loose, laughin'..." Scout trailed off, eyes growing distance, foggy, seeing something Sniper couldn't and would never see. He gave the runner's hand another squeeze. That brought Scout back to the present as he took another deep breath.
"...anyway, they don't do dat. So, dat has ta mean, mean dat, dat it had a- a reason ta do it. A-And aliens, I know da stories about those freakin', how some types stick things in ya? I dunno, I dunno why. But things don't just stick their things in ya for funsies, right? Who- which means it, it put part of it, like, it was in there when I got loose, when I- I got free. Could fe… could feel it just… in me. And I…thought dat, since I couldn't feel it anymore when, when I woke up here, in here, dat it hadn't just disa-freakin'-ppeared. Dat it was still in me, and I- I had ta get it out. I had ta get it outta me. I had ta get it out."
"So you started making yourself puke?" Sniper prompted. The runner nodded, still refusing to meet Sniper's eyes.
"Cause what else could I do, wait for it ta get out? No, I ain't, I ain't waitin' so I just… I just… yeah. And I, I figured, I couldn't let it, it grow too, while it was still there. A-And what does everything need ta grow?"
"Food." Sniper answered, mouth dry. The picture Scout was painting was beginning to form, and it was a horrible one. Scout nodded again.
"Yeah," he mumbled, "yeah, food makes things grow, and I wasn't, I wasn't gonna let it grow in me. Not a chance."
"That's whoi you didn't eat, whoi you barely ate anything, isn't it?"
"...yeah. And da real kicker? Da real punch ta da gut?" Sniper winced at the idiom, "it didn't even work… it never did, I was already too late. I just hoped… but I should've started sooner, should've just… but, I just, I couldn't get anythin' out, and dat meant it was really in me."
"Whot does that mean then?"
"...I don't know. I just, I had an, I thought I couldn't, dat I was…" Scout paused. Sniper lay waiting for him to continue, but what the runner started with instead only made more questions.
"There were two of them, ya know? Da first one, right? But dat other one? Da one you were with, da one dat didn't do anything ta us? It looked like me. Dat freakin', it, dat one looked just like me. E-Even before it got me, dat, I was already a shapeshiftin' monster. Maybe. Just… I had ta make sure I wasn't one too… I had ta, I… I had ta."
"Mate, you didn't-" Sniper tried to say something, but Scout wouldn't stop. He was talking faster again, breathing sharper.
"I did! I had ta know, I needed ta know! I couldn't become dat, one a those freaks, I'd, I'd rather die, okay, I, and- and you know? You know those things don't bleed? They don't bleed red, they can't. Humans bleed red, they don't! And if I had red still in me? Dat, dat meant I was still human too, I was still human. Only- only what if dat little nick wasn't enough? What if dat was just da little drop left over? So- So I had ta keep checkin', and checkin' longer, and deeper, and I, and just what if it wasn't enough this time? What if I check and, and think "yeah, I'm still me, I'm still Scout." and then I'm with you but it turns out I wasn't me anymore and I didn't check enough and ended up, ended up," the runner's grip was tightening to the point of pain, "So, so it wasn't like, I wasn't just doin' it cause I'm one a those sad saps, okay? I just wanted ta make sure I was still me deep down, dat what it did ta me wasn't nothin' but a freakin'... and, and yeah, it… it got a little easier, little… kinda good, once I got, got a pattern down but… I just wanted ta make sure…" Scout fell silent again, covering his face with his arm so as to not be seen. Like he was ashamed.
"...you said," Sniper started, letting go of Scout's hand, "earlier, you said if you became one of them, then this would just be practice for the "real deal". Whot… Scout, please don't tell me that you meant…" the dip in Scout's head and the guilt lining what little of him Sniper could see was answer enough, "Lad, no…"
"I t-told," Scout said from behind his arm, voice small and raspy, "I told you dat I'd rather freakin' die than be a freak, an- and I mean it, I'd rather freakin'... I'll be dead before I become a monster, I'd rather die. A-And I figured, dat maybe I'd be… cause I'm not gonna be a monster who eats people and does things ta them like it did ta me."
"You've been doing this, all of this, because you think you're turning into one of those things? You don't even… kid, you don't even know if that's-"
"Yeah, I don't!" Scout snapped, curling up even more, "I don't know if I'm okay or not! I hafta check though, because what if I'm not okay? Wh- what if it's still there, and it's just, it's just waitin' ta, ta take over, and rip ya ta shreds? What if- what if it just, rips me apart, from, from da inside out or somethin'? And I can't do nothin' but feel everythin' shuttin' down, and what, and what if I'm still awake, still there when it takes over, and I hafta watch it kill people, usin' me ta do it, watch- watch it do what it did ta me ta other people! Or, or it just waits, till I'm home, with- with Ma, and my bros and their families, and then it- or ta you! And all a dat could happen, if, if I don't keep checkin'!" The runner was now trembling, every inch of his slender frame shivering with fear and distress. Sniper stayed quiet. He didn't… he didn't know what to say at that. All of this that was happening, Scout had managed, Scout, the blunt, sincere kid who couldn't tell a believable lie to save his life, had managed to hide all of this from Sniper. Within a small space, after near death situation after near death situation. And he never suspected a thing wrong besides the runner not handling the death, or supposed death, of their team well.
Sniper reached out and placed his hand on Scout's shoulder, who flinched in response.
"Look at me," He said. Scout shrunk back. "Scout, look at me." The runner slowly lifted his head and finally, finally, locked eyes with the marksman. The dark made it hard to see, to make out anything besides the shape of Scout's head, but there was enough light to know that Scout was listening.
"You're scared of becoming a monster, yeah?" The runner hesitantly nodded. He made to say something, but stopped when Sniper slid his hand up and below Scout's jaw. The Bostonian's skin was warm, and still felt paper thin, but that wasn't what Sniper was looking for. The pair stayed like that for only a moment or two as Scout began to squirm from the quiet.
"What're ya-"
"You're not turning into a monster, Scout," Sniper stated, "your pulse is far too strong."
"Bu- but what if it ain't red?-"
"Jay, you don't need to bloody cut yourself to know if your blood's red or not, there are tons of other details to tell."
"I don- but, but what're they?"
"Your skin for one," Sniper explained, pulling away from the runner's neck, "the reason it isn't snow white is because of your blood. Here," he took hold of Scout's hand and brought it up towards the moonlight, making their limbs a ghostly blue. He then lightly pinched one of the runner's fingers, cutting off the bloodstream. "You see that? It's turning red because of your blood. And those scars on your stomach, the only reason they're scabbing is because of your blood. And this," Sniper placed the runner's hand right where his own was just a moment ago, "that pulse is only there because your blood's red. You wouldn't be alive if it wasn't red, Scout." The runner was silent, feeling his own pulse rush through his body. Then he deflated, hanging his head back down and turning away from Sniper.
"oh… I… I really am stupid, huh?"
"Only sometimes. Jus'... lad, whoi didn't you tell me?" Sniper implored, trying to meet Scout's eyes again, "you wouldn't have had to deal with this. You didn't need to do this to yourself!"
"Cause then I'd hafta tell ya everythin' else…" Scout muttered, "about me bein' a freakin' coward and knowin' everythin', and then you'd hate me and wouldn't care, I didn't… I didn't want ta worry ya, cause if I turn into a monster-"
"You won't-"
"You don't know dat!"
"And you don't know if you will." Scout hugged himself, nestling deeper into the mattress.
"But… it's better safe than sorry. What's, what's a few little cuts dat won't stick, huh? Better than bullet holes, or bein' a monster."
"But those can stick, mate, those'll scar, you already have some, Oi had to dress them, they're scarring!" Sniper argued. The runner shrunk back, hiding his face.
"...look, 'M sorry," he whispered, "I know I shoulda told you, I… 'M sorry, okay? I'm sorry for makin' ya worried and crap, makin' ya worried over a guy dat's too cowardly ta-"
"You are not a coward, Scout."
"But I keep doin' this crap!-"
"Jay, you are not a coward," he grabbed Scout's jaw and raised the runner's head, who had his eyes clamped shut. "Kid, look at me," Scout shook his head, trying to pull away, "Jeremy, look at me." The runner opened his eyes, forcing himself to meet Sniper's own. For a moment, just a moment, neither of them said a word. Then the marksman cupped the runner's face in his hands, keeping him still and listening.
"You're not a coward, okay?" Sniper said, "You shouldn't have been doing this, and you know that," Scout looked away, "hey, Oi'm not done." he looked back.
"You shouldn't have done this, you should have told me, but keeping this to yourself doesn't make you a coward. From whot Oi've gathered, you've done this because you don't want anyone else getting hurt like you did. Is that it, was that the reason?" Scout swallowed, then nodded. "Mate, you weren't being spineless, you were wanting to keep others safe. That isn't cowardly. You're not a coward."
"...but… I lied, lied about everythin'."
"Awright, maybe not telling me about Sawmill was a bit cowardly, but not this," Sniper was quick to add, "Kid, you've shown time and time again that you are the furthest thing from a coward Oi've seen. Oi haven't known a single other person who'd keep putting themselves in harm's way for someone who kept pushing them away. You came back when you left, you came back each and every time. Cowards don't do that. There's a fine line between whot's brave and whot's foolish, and you've been using it as a jump rope. Cowards don't do that. You're too bloody impulsive and reckless to be a coward."
"...I still lied ta you."
"And you shouldn't have done that. Honestly though, Oi'm shocked that you managed to keep it going for so long. Mate, you can't lie for s**t." That made Scout snicker, if only for a second. "Or maybe Oi'm jus' more dense than Oi thought."
The small grin Scout had soon faded away as he looked down. Sniper raised the runner's head again.
"Oi really need to stop underestimating you, don't Oi?"
"...huh?"
"Need to stop underestimating how good you can be. You can be a pretty bloody good person when you want to be, or maybe that's jus' how you are when it comes down to it. Oi need to stop forgetting that." He slowed down, emphasizing every word he was about to say, "You're not a coward, because whenever you run from something, you're always running right on back. Might take a while to do it, but you always get there, in the end. You're not a coward."
"I… th- I… ain't pullin' my leg or nothing, right?" Scout asked, scanning Sniper's face for any indication that he would be lying. That small question made the marksman's chest ache.
"No. Oi'm not pulling your leg. Oi mean it."
"Everythin'?"
"Everything."
"Y-You sure?"
"Oi'm sure." Scout didn't seem to know how to respond as he only blinked rapidly. Then he ducked his head, saying something Sniper had to strain his ears to pick up.
"...even me turnin' into a monster? you really… like, I'm safe? I'm okay?"
"...Yes. That too."
"Promise?" Scout looked back up, an underlying hope in his eyes, "you promise I'm not gonna be a monster? I'm gonna- I'm gonna stay me?" The marksman paused, rolling the question over in his mind. After a while, he locked their eyes.
"Oi promise." At that, Scout went slack, falling deeper into the cushions and blanket. Alarm shot through Sniper's system before he realized that the runner had simply released all the tension in his body. His companion was probably exhausted in every sense of the word, so Sniper couldn't blame the noteworthy reaction. He watched as Scout shimmied back into the bed, pulling the blanket around him.
The darkness was quiet, and the soft blue glow of the night sky seemed to drag Sniper's eyelids down. And that enveloping warmth all around them, in the blanket, in the small space, making it hard to keep from yawning. He did anyway. Both of them were exhausted it seemed. The marksman rolled back onto his side, away from Scout, trying to figure out if he'd finally be able to sleep.
"...but then," Scout started, voice small, "why… why'd it… why did it do dat ta me?" Sniper stiffened, furrowing his brow.
"...Oi…"
"Cause if it didn't infect me, ta make me one of them, dat would- if it didn't do dat cause of dat, then… why'd it do it? It- there's gotta be a reason, right?"
"...Oi honestly don't know, Jay. Oi don't know."
"But- but then why-"
"There are some people who jus' do things because they want to do it, for no other reason. That thing might be one of them," Sniper rolled onto his back, looking back over to the runner who was nestled in the blanket. "And Oi'm not talking about, like, selfish blokes; everyone's selfish, at least a bit. Oi mean the real ones, the bad blokes, the murderers, the rapists, nonces, those kinds of people."
"But… we killed people too, we're murderers too, ain't we?"
"You're… we're killers, not murderers. We get paid to kill people who are paid to kill us back, which is technically self defense."
"So… how's, what's… we ain't bad people, like, really bad people?"
"No, that's whot I'm getting at. They choose to do horrible things, frankly, for s**ts and giggles. For fun, pleasure, for the h*ll of it. There are people like that, we aren't them, but they are there. And… did you see it, when it dragged me under, whot it looked like?" Scout shook his head.
"It was dark, a lotta bubbles too. Just it's hand cause I bit it."
"It was a man. Jus' a man. Nothing else, no multiple faces, mouths, eyes, jus' a man. Don't know whot it is deep down, maybe Oi'm grasping at straws. But Oi think that thing was a man like that. A truly disturbed bloke. Would make sense, considering how it acts."
Scout chewed the inside of his cheek, looking away. The marksman's explanation rolled around in the runner's head, leaving a heavy silence during his thinking. Then, through the dark, Sniper saw the shadows on Scout's face shift along with the runner's expression.
"...so it actually did do all of dat for funsies? It… it did all of dat, for no good reason? All of it. It… it did everythin' ta me, it ****ed me over, ****ed over my mind, my freakin' dreams, my- it ****ed me up just for s**ts and giggles…" Scout's quiet tone was brimming with every negative emotion the human psyche could conjure. But that deafening and violent thunderclap of rage Sniper was expecting never came. Scout didn't explode with wrath, didn't swear up a storm so acidic it would make every toxic chemical blush, didn't even punch his pillow. No, he didn't do anything. Nothing but lay propped up on his elbows with his head hung low, keeping Sniper from seeing his face. They stayed like that for a bit with Sniper watching Scout with a sharp eye, prepared to pin the runner if he turned violent. But that didn't happen. Not towards him. Scout instead made a noise so rough and miserable it made Sniper's own throat hurt as he began to pull his hair. Hard.
"Hey, hey, don't do that," Sniper snatched Scout's hand away from his head, "stop doing that!"
"There's gotta be a reason!" Scout rasped, voice thick with emotion, "Somethin' I did, or some c-crap like dat, not just cause- not just for funsies. Karma or somethin'!" The marksman let go of the runner's hand, and like before, cupped the runner's face and raised it high enough to see Scout's eyes. The expression he held… it hurt. It hurt a lot.
"...Oi don't think there is, Bilby," Sniper said softly, "Oi'm sorry, Oi don't there was any other reason than it wanting you hurt."
"There's gotta be… more than just seein- seein' me squirm." He shook his head.
"No, Jay, Oi think it jus' wanted you scared and hurt," Scout stiffened, a new wave of tears brimming his eyes, "it jus' wanted to torture you for s**ts and giggles." The runner didn't say anything, probably couldn't from the sobs he was keeping locked in his chest, fighting to get loose. But eventually, like in the clearing, they did get loose. With a strangled breath, Scout gave up and began to cry. And when Sniper felt his companion pull away to hide his face in the marksman's shoulder, he let it happen.
A second later Scout had his arms wrapped around Sniper's chest, his one hand gripping the marksman's shirt like a vice. Sniper simply returned the embrace, rubbing small circles into the runner's back, speaking as quietly and calming as he could muster.
"Oi'm sorry all of this happened to you, Jay, honestly Oi am, ya didn't deserve a quarter of it."
For how long Scout spent using Sniper's shoulder as a tissue, he couldn't tell. Time felt different here, like this. And the muffled breath hitches his littlest teammate made weren't a clock's ticks. Once Sniper grew tired of talking, he instead began to pet the runner's head, flattening the hair Scout had been pulling at. Though, that turned out to be in vain. The runner's hair had grown out from the neat shaved look he had for their work, leaving sharp, soft spikes of light brown hair. It was thin, like straw, and wouldn't be flattened by the works of man. But Sniper still tried.
It was only when Scout's breathing grew slower and deeper that Sniper stopped. He paused everything, electing to ask "you awright now?"
"No." He heard Scout grumble. When Sniper looked down, even though it was dark, he could make out the bright redness of Scout's ears.
"Okay, wrong question. Do you feel better than before?" He felt Scout shrug. "Well, whot do you feel, then?"
"...tired." the runner said, "really, really tired…" His voice was gravelly and perfectly portrayed the exhaustion Scout claimed to have.
"Oi can tell," Sniper replied, placing his hands on the runner's shoulders, "you should get some sleep, mate, you're still not up to full speed." He made to pry Scout off him, but his teammate had other ideas.
"Can we just… stay like this?" The runner asked, ears growing even redder, "...please?" Sniper didn't say a word. For about five seconds, just enough time for Scout to get antsy. He grinned and began to ruffle the Bostonian's hair, undoing all his pointless work.
"N'awwww, you're jus' a cuddly little Kookaburra, ain't cha?" Sniper cooed, "are you always this affectionate or is it jus' moi natural charm?"
"Shut da **** up," Scout growled back, "I don't gotta put up with this s**t tonight, okay?"
"Awright, jus' pokin' some fun. Though Oi'd appreciate it if you could move to moi side so moi ribs won't be flattened when you pass out." The runner obliged, slipping down to the marksman's side. There he went straight back to hugging Sniper, letting his head rest on his shoulder. The blanket was pulled up, and the pair grew quiet.
…
For about three seconds.
"Hey, you're not… ya ain't gonna tell anybody about this, what we're doin' or- or anythin', right?"
"Who would Oi tell even if Oi wanted to?" Sniper mumbled, letting his eyes fall shut.
"I'm serious, man, you won't tell anyone, like, what I told you, right?"
"No. Oi won't tell anyone."
"Promise?"
"...If Oi do, you need to promise something in return."
"Promise what?" Sniper grabbed Scout's arm, locking the runner up with a fierce gaze.
"Don't you ever do that cutting s**t again, you hear me? Don't let me ever catch you doing that to yourself again! And if you do, it better be for a d*mn good reason like cutting a bullet out or-"
"Okay, okay! Geez! I freakin' promise, I won't do it again." Scout blurted out, eyes wide at the sudden ferocity. "I promise…"
"...fine." Sniper sighed, letting go of Scout's arm who rolled it to lessen the soreness his hand caused, "Look. Whenever you want to do it, jus'... jus' tell me, okay? Please? Jus' find me or something, this isn't a habit you want to form, trust me."
"...okay." Scout managed to squeak out before a deep yawn cut him off, sending him nestling into the blanket and Sniper's arm. The marksman rolled over, wrapping his arm around the runner's shoulders.
"Oi promise not to tell anyone whot you told me, Jay. And about this, which you better not talk about either. Don't need anyone thinking we're going soft, now do we-"
"You kiddin'? I'm takin' this ta my grave, I'm dyin' before I freakin' start chattin' abou-" he yawned again, "sharin' beds… like I'm back in second grade or… or some crap."
"Good, then we're on the same page," Sniper himself nestled down. The soft warmth around him was starting to feel really nice
"Heck ye… we're a team, we… we're always havin' shared pages, I'm… goin' ta sleep now."
"Awright…"
"Night, Mick."
"G'night, Buckshot." Before his eyes closed, before the soft shadows and fabric engulfed his consciousness, Sniper could have sworn Scout smiled while mouthing "thanks for listening."
Morning came slow, which in all honesty was a blessing considering how long it took Sniper to actually fall asleep. Waking up to the rays of sunshine seeping through the blinds was nice, the rain clouds having finally passed them by. What wasn't so nice was waking up to find out he was completely trapped by Scout, who, in his sleep, wrapped his entire body around the marksman like a koala. He should get the kid a little koala costume from how often Scout did this.
Now how the h*ll would he get loose? Did he even want to get up yet? He wasn't exactly tired enough to fall back asleep, but getting up now didn't feel right. Maybe it was the stuffiness of the camper making everything warm and cozy. Or maybe it was just the fact that the runner on top of him was limiting his oxygen supply to his brain. That could be it. Man, if the lads saw him like this they'd never let him live this down.
He still didn't want to move.
Prying an arm out from Scout's tight hug, Sniper rubbed at his eyes. Then he looked down at the runner pinning him to the bed. Scout was dead to the world. Made sense. He didn't toss and turn, didn't murmur anything in his sleep. Suppose that meant he wasn't having a nightmare, or any dream perhaps. That was probably for the best if last night was anything to go by.
Right. Last night. Oh boy.
Running his hand through Scout's hair, Sniper frowned. The kid was right, in a sense, he was infected with something, it just wasn't anything physical. And he honestly didn't know if that seed of doubt and fear in the runner's mind could ever be uprooted. If it could, just one small midnight chat with him wouldn't fix it. Scout will probably be pretty upset to find that out when he wakes up. Hopefully the kid's promise will be kept, he wasn't completely convinced, but Sniper couldn't just ask Scout if he would keep it, even if he wanted to. But for now, the marksman was content to just let his cuddly companion be.
Though, it would be nice if he could get out from under him. Maybe if he just…
For the next few minutes, Sniper untangled himself from Scout, trying not to wake the runner up while doing so. He was victorious in the end, finding himself out of bed with his teammate still fast asleep, though the runner was beginning to toss and turn. That was quickly fixed by placing his round pig in the crook of his arm. Scout instantly latched onto it, pulling it close into a rib crushing hug. The sight made Sniper smirk.
Stretching out his joints and back, Sniper fought back a powerful yawn. Alright, where was the coffee machine? Ah, right, by the Medigun. Being extra careful not to touch the fickle miracle maker, he went about his morning business. As the sound of brewing filled the camper, he slipped into some day clothes along with putting on his hat and shades. Then he spotted the still damp pile of clothing he'd tried to wash yesterday. Well, the sun was shining, and who knows how long that could last, so now would be best-
A light tapping knock on the camper's door instantly caught Sniper's attention. All previous thoughts had been shot and buried, leaving none but who had knocked, had they been followed, and don't let them anywhere near Scout. The assassin straightened up, silently listening for anything else. Nothing but another light series of knocks. He walked forwards, posture relaxed, and grabbed the door's handle. His other hand lingered near his kukri. Taking a breath, Sniper opened the door.
It took him a second to actually recognize the person in front of him. His eyes widened once he did.
"Miss Pauling?"
The purple-clad secretary smiled in response.
"Sniper, you are one hard man to find."
