This is the second to last chapter, with the final acting as an epilogue. I really hope you've all found some enjoyment from my story, it's certainly been a journey for me. Originally I thought it would at most be only 50,000 words. Not so, apparently :p but still, I'll get more into my final thoughts for the final chapter. Enjoy, my loyal readers! You've earned this for sticking by this past year.


He was sinking. He had to be sinking because it sure felt like it. Or maybe free falling. Though it felt more like floating? But either way, everything felt heavier.

And he had weight to his limbs, which was strange. Well, it was a new weight, one that felt faulty, and kinda sluggish. But it kinda felt familiar too, in a way.

He kept sinking.

Now there was something else, and it wasn't good. No, this was bad, a bad thing. A stiff… stinging? He forgot that word, or things that also meant pain. Pain! That's what this awful feeling is! Pain! OW! Everything felt like he'd just been waterboarded and set ablaze all at once. At least it was faint. Mostly.

The sinking slowed, leaving him lying down on something that wasn't nearly as soft as he'd like. Pete's sake, was it a rain cloud? No, those were like water beds, and he actually liked sleeping on those. A thundercloud? No, this was too hard to be a cloud, or even a bed, beds were silky. And not scratchy with the sun shining directly into his eyes. Or closed eyes. But it didn't matter because it was still shining on him! Freaking… who put the sun there?

Nope, not the sun, the sun doesn't make a strange buzzing noise like mosquitoes. Mosquitoes? Did he end up in Hell? All mosquitoes went to Hell so he must've ended up there somehow. But then why did it feel so freaking cold?

Groaning, Jeremy cracked an eye open. That was a lamp. A lamp shining directly into his face, hurting his eyes. Why was he hurting, hurting was banned, wasn't it? He raised a hand to block out the stinging light, but that was a real challenge. His arm was shaking, and super stiff. Like he was an action figure left out in the cold, the hard plastic hardened even more by frost.

Wait a minute, this was a bed. A hospital bed, scratchy sheets and all. Jeremy pushed himself to sit up, that stiffness slowly fading the longer he kept his eyes open. But the pain wasn't fading, that's for darn sure. It stung and stung badly, around his neck, and chest. Arms, legs, everywhere there was a thin, fiery trail of hurt that didn't make sense because Heaven didn't allow this pain. Heaven didn't even have hospital beds, they weren't needed. So was this Hell?

Jeremy looked around the small space he woke up in. Light red walls, medical equipment, a pile of what looked like melted car batteries? Why were those in here? Medic didn't keep car batteries in his…

Oh crap.

Medic- the team- his job- Oh crap, what the actual h*ll happened? Scout ripped the blankets aside, and swore. Loudly. Even doing that hurt like a-

Stitches were covering his body. Deep, winding paths cutting down his arms, and legs. Around his neck he could feel the stitches spiraling like a corkscrew. And his chest. Scout looked around in frantic movements and spotted a mirror along the wall. He gulped.

That was him, no questions about it. But there were things there that weren't there when he fell asleep. Those scars were the most obvious, and raising that white shirt he was wearing revealed even more along his chest, creating a horrible excuse for a Y on his surprisingly normal looking skin. Wait, why was that surprising, what did he look like when he fell asleep?

Scout squinted in thought. He was having trouble remembering… anything, really. Even that… what was it, he just had it. Like a dream, of soft clouds and friendly people. That was it, right? It felt real, but… he was here. Alive, so… whatever those foggy memories, or thoughts were, probably weren't real. But then why couldn't he remember-

The door to the room swung open, snatching up Scout's attention as he watched Medic enter, scolding a dove and cradling a large steaming mug in his hands.

"-last time I'm telling you, Plato, this is mine," Medic glared at the dove on his shoulder, "und zat's zat!" He looked towards Scout. And froze in his tracks, eyes resembling dinner plates. Scout gave the doctor a once over. He looked like s**t. Wait, that felt familiar.

As the runner sat reeling from the Deja Vu that swept him up, the German trotted over to the bedside, grinning like the mad doctor he was.

"Ah ha! You vere able to vake up on your own!" Medic exclaimed, dropping into a chair by the bed. "I vas starting to believe I'd have to electrocute you again."

"Uh- wait, what?" Scout sat up straighter, ignoring the pain it caused. "Ya shocked me? Why da h*ll- okay, what is goin' on, man, what did you do ta me?" He pointed accusingly at the doctor. The German's medical garble came to a halt. Medic looked at him with that look that said "well this wasn't supposed to happen".

"...do you not remember?" He asked softly. Scout opened his mouth, but stopped. Whatever little quip he was about to use died as Medic's words rolled around in his head. What could he remember? Oh geez, okay, um… remembering, remembering, remembering… crap, okay, where had he fallen asleep, surely he could remember that.

Gnawing on his cheek, Scout looked to the ceiling, narrowing his eyes.

"Scout," the runner sighed, defeated, looking back to the doctor who was wearing a somber expression. That was not a good sign.

"What happened, doc?"

"Mein friend, you have been in a coma for over three years."

Scout felt his heart drop to his stomach. Eyes wide, he stammered and sputtered but nothing came out. Three years… three whole years!? Three years of his life, GONE, just like that!? How was that fair!?

So those golden pillars, and soft clouds really were just a dream? And everything he knew was just… imagined into existence? Even before Heaven(which wasn't really Heaven apparently), he had it. It was just out of reach! He knew he had the memories, but why couldn't he reach them!? It was like having all your keepsakes trapped in a small box. Or a compartment. Or, something else that was tight spaced, like a car or camper van or-

The van, the van, Sawmill, Landfall!

That monster,

The talks,

SNIPER!

None of that- it never happened? It never- it, he never actually fought a monster with Sniper and saved their team, never got to know- was his name even "Mick" or was his brain just filling in the gaps? Did, did he even look like how Scout thought he did or did his coma brain just take Harvey and make a few modifications?

Medic sat solemnly as Scout continued to have an existential crisis on the hospital bed. Then his nose wrinkled, and he burst out laughing, much to the confusion and horror of Scout.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but it vas too good to pass up!" Medic said between his laughter, "your face, mein wort!" Scout sat there, dumbstruck, before deciding he wouldn't be the only one struck. The runner brought his hand back, and slapped the older man so hard his glasses were knocked askew.

"You b*****d!" Scout shouted as the dove flew into the rafters and the stunned Medic fixed his glasses, "You complete pile of dog s**t, what's wrong with you!?"

"Alright, I understand your upset," Medic began.

"No freakin' s**t!"

"But zat is no vay to act towards ze man who brought you back from ze dead." The doctor gave Scout a glare, and it had no effect because Scout chose to shrink back, just to give the man some space. Yeah, he totally wasn't still affected by that German's scary- not scary eyes.

Wait a minute, did he say-

"I was dead!?"

"For approximately three months, yes," Medic confirmed as Scout went slack jawed.

"I was dead for three freakin' months!? So- so everythin' really did happen…? Like, monster attack and, everythin'?"

"Ja. Und let me tell you, you gave me ze vorst trouble!" The German took a long swig of his, presumably, coffee before slamming it down with a wild and exacerbated look. "First I had to get your body back and Miss Pauling refused for so long I don't know vhy and then I had to find a vay to grow back ze stomach you so kindly blew up vith your stunt-"

"Yeah, that's cool Doc, real nice," Scout said as he made to stand. Medic gave him that look again, and he pushed himself back into the scratchy pillows to make it go away.

"Oh no you don't, ze least you can do is listen to vhat I had to do for you to be here."

"Yeah, okay, fine."

"Good, now I first considered simply finding some tissue of yours and grow a new body, but then I realized zat you might not have ze memories or brain function to live again. Or a brain at all for zat matter," Medic took a sip. "So I had to get your body vhich had your brain from Miss Pauling and she didn't seem to like my request. At all. And-"

"You already told me dat," Scout pointed out, scratching his hand. Hand? Sure enough, both hands. Both hands!

"I did? Ack, it's ze exhaustion, I've had many sleepless nights learning how to grow your organs back."

"Couldn't you've just used dat?" The Medigun was on it's ceiling holster, switched off. Medic shook his head.

"Nein, ze cells are still quite unstable, using it could fill your body vith tumors." Scout winced at the image.

"Like da bread?"

"I already said those veren't tumors," Medic deadpanned as Scout mumbled that he knew that, "und anyvay, most of ze time vas spent getting your body back to a liveable state. And making sure ze blood vouldn't cause any internal damage. One time Archimedes got trapped in your abdomen and I had to rip it open and start all over again." Medic's eyes narrowed with a scowl, "he still hasn't apologized for zat."

"...Right, so…" Scout peeked under his shirt again, "uh, I'm alive again."

"JA!" The volume startled both the runner and the dove who flew back to Medic's shoulder. "Vell, technically you have been for two days, you've just been asleep for zat. But now, I have built a new pillar of medicine. You are mein greatest achievement!" He didn't know whether he should take that as a compliment or not. "You are also ze most expensive life on ze planet now. Vhether zat should be ze case, eh, either vay, both vin in ze end: you get to live and I no longer have zat favor I owe you hanging over mein head!" Scout paused his hand flexing before groaning.

"Hey, c'mon, dat ain't fair! Da people who are owed da favors get ta say what da favor is, not da person who owes it!"

"In this case, you vouldn't be able to claim ze favor either vay. I think it's only fair zat bringing you back from ze dead should make us even." …yeah, that made sense. But Scout didn't have to like it.

"So you only brought me back to use up da favor?" He asked. Boy, what a nice motivation to snatch him back from that city in the sky. The German shook his head.

"Zat vas only one reason of many," that got Scout's attention, "ze favor, experimenting vith ze tissue, simply seeing if I could," Medic said, counting off his fingers, "und to help bring ze team back to normal. Also," Medic shot forwards, grabbing Scout's shoulders before the runner could reply, "did you really start Sniper's heart vith a lightning bolt!?" Scout's eyes widened a bit before grinning.

"Heck yeah I did! Hurt like a b***h- Wait, where's M- Sniper, where is he?" Scout asked, sitting up straighter and looking around. Medic looked away in thought and leaned back in his chair.

"I believe… yes, I saw him earlier on my vay back through a vindow. He vas vashing some graffiti off his van. I assume some junge snuck his vay into ze property at night, though it's strange zat Sniper didn't hear- Scout, vait!" But Scout was already on his feet and rushing out the door, stumbling and tripping over his newly resurrected legs. And just like that, he was gone. Medic sighed, and petted his dove's chest. It cooed and he shook his head, grabbing his mug once more.

"Nein, he doesn't care about ze "how", did you see how his eyes glazed over? No, I'll tell him if he asks, but I'm not going out of mein vay for it."


Running was proving to be pretty darn difficult for someone who was dead for three whole months. Three whole months! Of being dead! It wasn't as bad as a year but d*mn, talk about a timeskip.

But Scout was alive again. Alive. So of course that called for a victory sprint.

This was Harvest's hallways. Slimmer, homely, had animal head trophies on the walls. And the windows with plaid curtains drawn back, revealing golden light of evening. It was almost like Heaven, but not as good.

His bare feet thundered against the ground, and beneath his still stinging chest was a pounding heart. It beat itself against his ribcage, threatening to explode outward. Now that feeling he did miss. One just on the cusp of pain, the thrill of speed and air and life. Alive once more!

Three months of complete deadness and now he was back! And Medic was alive, the team was alive, and that thing was dead. He killed it which killed him but he was back. What went on during those three months? Scout slowed down, to think and to make sure he wouldn't pop and stitches. Heaven knows he didn't need to go through that whole ordeal again.

Oh no, Ma must've gone through a horrible ordeal! She didn't know he was back! Or his brothers! And the teams had switched given the red decor, and they were at Harvest so a lot must've happened to the team. Aw crap, well, he'll have to call Ma really freaking soon! After talking to Sniper because wow, he'll be-

"Hey, Heavy!" Scout called out to the Russian reading and drinking tea like a dork when he passed the kitchen. He didn't stop jogging, not even when he heard the very loud spit take followed by a "SCOUT?"

-so freaking upset or something. Did he get sad? Depressed or something when Scout got deaded? A little? Please? Because he would be feeling the same if the same had happened to the marksman.

Scout reached the exit, and stepped out into the golden light of Harvest. The itchy sensation of dying grass under his feet mingled with the faint scent of ripe crabapples. The sky was a right blue fading into a lighter cyan, the calling card of an nearing sunset. Three months… that meant it was early August. He missed summer, d*mn it! Okay, technically not, but…

A chill breeze brushed against his cheeks and bar arms, sending goosebumps to the surface. It sure was colder than normal for mid summer. The breeze continued, sending his hair ruffling. The cold was familiar…


Everything had gone deathly cold. The heat, one that felt like hellfire itself, was gone instantly, leaving Jeremy alone and lying on the rooftop, that wisping, marble sky filling his vision.

The rain was nice whenever some landed on his blistering tongue. He felt really thirsty, and hurt. Really, really, really hurt. From his fingers down to his toes, everything felt like it was melting off his bones. And when he inhaled, whenever he wasn't sent into a coughing fit, the air would slip through his chest, which tickled but mostly hurt.

Jeremy tried to push himself up, crying out in pain when he got to his elbows. White hot spots danced in his vision, and an emptiness. He felt empty, he was empty. Head hanging from exhaustion, Jeremy got a front row view to the gaping hole where his stomach should be. It was empty, there was nothing in there. Nothing. He weakly laughed in relief. There really was nothing in there after all. Mick was right all along.

His smile fell with the rain as he rolled on his missing stomach. He needed to get up. To see if it was growing back. To get to Mick, he had Medic with him, Medic would help. Jeremy tried to stand, placing his blistering palm against the wood. It burned too hot, and he fell with a whimper. A coppery sheen coated his mouth and teeth, spilling out from his lips.

Not good… not a good sign…

Tired. Jeremy was tired too. A different kind of tired, in the back of his mind like a creeping rot. He couldn't keep his eyes open, the world grew blurry and black.

Tired.

Then, a roar erupted into the sky and he was grabbed. Two talons sunk into his shoulders, throwing him onto his back with a loud angry shout. He felt a whimper slip through his split lips at a sudden shaking and opened his eyes.

The man above him gripping his shoulders looked rough, and mean, and definitely someone Jeremy wouldn't want to mess with. Instantly, relief flooded his system when he locked eyes with Mick. He smiled, the tiredness pushed away for only a moment.

"mick, you're alive!" Mick didn't respond nicely. He was taking off his coat the moment Jeremy spoke, and told him not to talk or move. But he had to understand what happened, who else would listen to Jeremy? No, he had to tell Mick. And he had to tell him something more important, but he wasn't listening.

Mick ignored Jeremy's cry when he pushed on the runner's wounds, and refused to look at him when Jeremy tried getting his attention. Only looking back when Jeremy noticed that his organs were missing and how that wasn't actually that great. But he needed to know, he wouldn't get another chance at this.

That rot, creeping its roots in the corners of his vision was proof enough. He had to tell him before falling asleep. Had to.

Jeremy tried grabbing Mick's sleeve, each time the man brushed the other way, yelling into a device. So he swallowed down the liquid filling his throat, and spoke.

"mick?" The older man sighed, and finally looked back down. He looked about as tired as Scout felt. He swallowed again. "mick?"

"...Yeah," Mick pushed his earpiece down, "whot's up?" He said something, the words, all noises really sounding muffled and distant. He tried to sit up, arms shaking from the effort. It was impossible. So Mick propped Jeremy up himself. That made it easier to keep the air in his lungs longer.

"b-but ya ccan, can't lau- ugh, okay? can't laugh."

"Oi won't laugh, Oi promise." It sounded like he meant it. So Jeremy sucked up all his nerve, whatever nerve wasn't damaged by the explosion, and told Mick what was what.

Through the growing black, Jeremy could hardly make out the confusion on Mick's face. Did he not… understand? He was too tired to talk much more. The sun beginning to peek wasn't helping.

But then, Mick's eyes widened and his expression blanked. He knew. He knew what Jeremy meant.

He wasn't saying anything. Was it a bad thing? A weird thing? Jeremy felt like he asked, and Mick shook his head, looking lost. His voice was raw, and the expression he held was starting to crumble.

"It's not weird, Oi… actually, 'm… Oi'm glad you told me. Honest," Mick looked like he was about to shatter into a million, bajillion pieces. "'M honored."

Honored…?

The black was everywhere now, only just letting the sun through. The sun that was glowing brighter and brighter. He said something, but it sent him into a horrible coughing fit. Then, he was being raised. Lifted up and placed again the only warm thing left in the entire world. He let his head fall, resting on that safe warmth and wrapping his arms around it. Around Mick.

Could he see the sun? It was everything, and the pain, the cold, it was nearly gone. The sun was the only thing left and it was only growing brighter. Wasn't that a good thing?

The heaviness in his limbs faded and despite how hard he tried to hang on, Jeremy gave in and let the light take him away.

For a moment, it was quiet. But then,

"BOOM! You're in Heaven, dummy!"


Scout paused his trek, memories fading back into the present. Aw man. Aw man…

Sniper's gonna freak. Okay, how in the world would he play this off? Hey man, I know that I died in your arms and that you're probably pretty mad about that and maybe you don't want to see me standing here talking to you because of guilt or some s**t but firstly, wasn't your fault I was being stupid, and secondly, I'm alive so no harm no foul, right? We cool? We still good teammates? Is that roadtrip offer still good?

Or… What if Sniper hated him now? Maybe, maybe he… there was a feeling, a feeling that he might. Even if Scout couldn't think of a reason why he would, some people didn't need reasons. Sniper himself said that, that people sometimes do things for the h*ll of it, but that Scout and him weren't one of those people. That they were better than that so… no, Sniper wouldn't hate him, Scout was just getting stupid again.

But what if?

Well, what ifs, what abouts, and why bothers weren't going to stop him! He was alive again! He was going to go over there, and smack Sniper with the surprise of a lifetime! Then he was going to get that date, but first call his family then date! And it'll all be sunshine and rainbows from here on out!

Scout trotted across the property, silently wishing he'd either brought shoes or at the very least asked Medic for socks. But nah, that guy probably has old man socks, the kind that goes all the way to your knees and you gotta wear sock harnesses to keep up. Why were there sock harnesses anyway, what kind of dork makes baby harnesses for socks? It's stupid, and besides that, most of the time socks are covered with your pants so-

Was that…? There, in the browning blades of grass, something reflected the almost setting sunlight. It hurt to look at it was so bright. Scout bent down(his stitches didn't like that one bit, no sir!) and grabbed the glowing glass.

It was! Sighing, Scout slipped them into the pockets of his white pants. Seriously, how many times did Sniper lose these? Sure they were by the van but honestly, c'mon man, he was better than this!

Right?

That was the camper van. The sun was behind him, casting a near blinding light on the vehicle's wall, one that was covered in soapy water and leaking paint. In front of that, was a very familiar someone. Even from all the way over here Scout knew it was Sniper. From the long legs, the sleeves always pulled back, and the scruffy dark brown hair that honestly reminded him of sheepdog fur. He never petted a sheepdog, but the comparison felt right.

Sniper had his back to him, washing away that graffiti the doc was talking about. It was nearly all gone by the looks of it. Well, that's good, it would distract the guy less. Right? All he had to do was actually walk up and get Sniper to notice him. Which he was going to do. Right now.

He'd stopped running and yet his heart was pounding harder. If it beat any faster, Scout was sure it would split the stitches open. The crinkle of grass underfoot, the light breeze, the faint buzz of bugs lazing about in the summer sun. It was almost close to Heaven. Maybe. So the reason why his pulse was racing was because he was happy and content, right? That's what Scout told himself as he trotted closer.

The closer he got, the more he could see. The bucket of soapy water by Sniper's feet, the hat and kukri resting by it, and his shadow growing longer and longer. Then, it rose and plastered itself on the van's wall. The only reaction Sniper gave was a silent little turn of his head, looking at the runner's shadow. He continued to scrub the wall, ignoring the shadow.

Well, here goes nothing. Scout cleared his throat.

"Yo, wassup?"

The world came to a grinding halt. Sniper froze, the rag in his hand being crushed in a new white knuckled grip. Scout waited for a moment, tilting his head and body to try and snatch a look of the marksman's face.

"So, uh, someone sprayed your van?" He began, the words now flowing like a steady creek, "Dat ain't cool, Medic said it was a junge, and I think dat means kid cause I remember he'd call me dat sometimes whenever I annoyed him or somethin', y'know? But still, sucks for ya van, looks like you got it off though!" Sniper lowered his arm, and the rag dropped from his shaking hand. "Musta been some weak *ss paint da jerk used, cause da graffiti in Southside, buddy, lemme tell ya it's strong. Like, you could put a little hurricane against da bricks its on and it still won't come… off…" Scout's voice died when Sniper finally turned around. The marksman's movements were stiff and seemed to jolt instead of the methodical gestures Sniper normally held. There was nothing to hide the horrified stare the head turn revealed.

Sniper's eyes were wide, with dark, worrying bags under them. And they were staring Scout down with complete dread. Anger, he could deal with. Happiness was what he was hoping for. But fear wasn't anything Scout was expecting. And anything Scout had planned on saying wasn't coming out.

He took a breath.

"Hey man, I'm back," Scout said cheerfully, giving Sniper the most authentic smile he could muster. It didn't feel authentic in the slightest. "Apparently I died? So, uh, y'know, kinda weird seein' dat I'm actually not dead anymore. Ya can thank Medic for dat- like, dude, it's was so freakin' weird wakin' up, cause like, I was in Heaven, right? Least it felt like it, and suddenly I'm bein' pulled down or somethin', though it kinda felt more like fallin', yeah? But I'm fallin', and I'm wakin' up with all these scars and crap, like, look at these bad boys!" He gestured to a scar travelling up his arm, walking up to Sniper. "People're gonna think I was in a freakin' nasty accident or war or somethin' which kinda happened bu-" Scout froze, eyes wide and focused on the blade aimed his way.

Sniper had stumbled back when Scout drew closer with his back now flat against the van's wall. He had grabbed his kukri, and was pointing it at Scout, a clear message to stay da h*ll away. The fear was still there, but it was twisted into something that actually looked a lot like…

Scout swallowed.

"C-C'mon man," he tried saying, voice no longer holding the strength from before. "It's me. It's really me, like, I'm back, for real." He took a step forwards but backtracked instantly at the glare sent his way. His teammate's chest was rising and falling way faster than before, and now his teeth were slightly bared. Scout took another step back, rubbing his arm and looking away.

"Are… are ya mad about da whole "dyin' in your arms" thing? Cause… like, dude, it… wasn't on purpose…" Sniper was still just glaring at him, like being cornered by something. Light gray eyes darting and scanning Scout for any little hint of ill intent. "And it wasn't your fault, y'know, I was bein' stupid an… 'm not a ghost, I swear." What else could he say? Sniper still didn't seem to be listening, and if he got any closer, he was sure the guy would stab him to death before realizing that he was telling the truth. Scout didn't want to die not fifteen minutes after coming back to life.

Maybe Sniper didn't want Scout back alive, and that was why he looked so angry. Scout practically wilted right there on the spot. If Sniper was mad, and he was mad before this. At Scout. Then, well, all he needed to do was do what worked before, right? Apologize, that was one thing. And…

The runner clenched his fists but kept them at his sides, then turned his head to the left.

"If you need proof, then, just… I'm right here, I'm givin' ya a free pass ta land a hook. This's a one time offer thing, givin' me da first punch since coming back, so you should take it." Scout swallowed, and clenched his teeth in preparation. "It's me, and I don't care if ya beat me black and blue ta prove it. Just… make it quick or somethin'," he clamped his eyes shut, "ain't got all day. And don't go for da chest, dat's hurtin' too much as it is!" Scout quickly added before biting his tongue.

It was silent. Geez, c'mon Sniper, say something! He was probably thinking it over. Maybe Scout shouldn't have given him so much freedom. Well, he said to land a hook, not a kick. But that could mean anywhere, and maybe Sniper was mad enough to punch him in the chest or kick him just to spite him? No, that didn't sound like Sniper. But it also didn't look like Sniper. Scout couldn't remember a time, any time, when Sniper looked so scared beyond the underwater tunnel. So-

Footsteps. Crunching grass and the sound of something hitting the dirt. Scout kept his eyes shut, heart racing. This was scary, this was scary. Oh crap, where was Sniper going to hit him? Please be the cheek, only the cheek, and nothing lower. And definitely nothing too low.

The footsteps stopped right in front of him. Okay, one punch, it was fine, then… whatever happens, will happen. Scout took a breath in preparation. And held it.

And kept holding it.

But the sudden touch he felt on his face scared him enough to release it. The sound also scared Sniper, it seemed, as the contact was gone before it started. Was… was that the punch? That wasn't even a slap, what-

The warm but shaking hand Scout felt on his neck, right below his jaw, was just strange enough for him to crack an eye open. There stood Sniper, checking the runner's pulse with his fingers pressed firmly into Scout's neck. Not enough to hurt, just enough to find the still racing heartbeat.

Add that to the Things-Scout-did-not-expect-Sniper-to-do-today list. It felt familiar, very familiar. And the familiarity only grew when Scout felt his face get held and angled up to lock eyes with the marksman.

The fear was still there, but that anger wasn't. Maybe there never was any at all. Instead, there was meticulous searching, Sniper scanning every little bit of him with a hesitant look slowly dawning into realization. Inch by little inch.

It was taking a bit too long, and it was kinda getting painful having his head being held up like this. So, Scout grabbed Sniper's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, grinning.

"Told ya, it really is me," he said as the marksman lowered his arms, "what? Did ya think I came back just ta haunt your a-" Scout couldn't finished as Sniper grabbed him.

Whatever instinctual thought about what Sniper was trying to pull or do to him was thrown, no, blown to kingdom come when Scout was yanked into one of the tightest hugs he'd ever received.

He liked to think he was a bit of an expert on all things hug related, at least ones that didn't involve chicks you dig. Ma still had the best, hands down, no questions asked. He'd gotten one from each brother at some point with Jamey, of course, being the best and Davey, surprisingly, coming second. But this? With Sniper's arms wrapped completely around his chest, sending those stitches screaming in pain, the way the older man leaned into him, it just…

"Mick, c'mon man, can't breathe," Scout said half-jokingly, patting his teammate's back. The hug loosened by only a tad before the runner felt Sniper's back shudder. His eyebrows shot up. Was he… was he actually…?

Now his chest was hurting from the inside too, only he didn't really care. Scout just returned the hug, hiding his stupid looking hurting-but-happy smile in the marksman's vest. He wouldn't comment on the tears staining his shoulder, he didn't really have the right to. He also didn't comment when Sniper's legs buckled, leading to both of them sitting on the grass, and Sniper to be nearly draped over him like a very lanky, Australian blanket.

The only comment he made was when Sniper finally spoke.

"...If it's not too late," the man's voice was rough and thick with emotion, grip growing even tighter, "Oi'd like to be your friend, if you'll still have me." For a few moments, the only answer was the light wind and sunlight finally beginning to set. Scout tried clearing his throat of the tightness in it. Didn't work.

"Ye- yeah, a course," he managed to force out steady enough, "this k- kinda thing ain't got a- an expiration date…" Scout swallowed. Darn, now he was crying too. It was because of the stitches, yes, that was it, they were hurting again. And also to help Sniper not look so unmanly, yeah, because Scout was just that good a guy. And if he also shoved his own face into his buddy's shoulder to hide his own face, well, screw anyone who would care. He finally had his best friend back.

For a while longer the pair stayed like that, and if it were up to Scout, he'd stay there even longer. But time wasn't his friend, and soon the sun was too far gone for them to remain sitting outside. Sniper was the one to pull away, using Scout's shoulders as an anchor. It had gotten darker, but it was still bright enough to see the water stains under his eyes, and the crooked smile found on his face.

"Can't bloody believe it," he said lightly, getting to his feet and helping Scout to his own, "can't bloody believe it!"

"Hey, man, you said it yourself dat I always come back," Scout grinned, nudging Sniper's arm with his elbow. "Like my hand! Look!" He waved his hand around excitedly. "Medic grew me a new one! I told ya he would!"

"Ya did?"

"Yeah, uh… oh, right, three month dead period and not just, like, a week. Yeah, it's been a while," Scout mumbled. Sniper nodded, scrubbing his face with a laugh.

"Yup, 's been quite a while," he said quietly, looking towards the base. "...it's been really bloody boring without ya here, mate." The way it was said made Scout's throat tighten again. D*mnit. He only nodded along, blinking rapidly to keep the not-so-macho tears at bay.

"Do the others know yet?"

"Only Medic. And Heavy cause I said hi ta him," Scout said, rubbing his eyes nonchalantly. Sniper then took hold of his wrist and began to lead him back to the base.

"Then they ought to know sooner than later. Maybe that will help, if we jus' spring it on them. Maybe that will help," Scout nodded again, letting himself get pulled along. Then he stopped.

"Wait, dude, hold on a minute," the runner said, fishing something from his pocket. Finding it, Scout brought out the marksman's aviators with an teasing look.

"You really need ta stop losin' these, my guy," Scout said as Sniper went slack jawed when he handed the glasses to him, "I swear, I take better care of them than you do! And besides, you're still kinda puffy, y'know, 'round da eyes so better hide dat before da guys start makin' fun a ya." Sniper didn't reply, turning his shades around in his hands in thought. Then, he hummed.

"You do take better care of them than me," Sniper agreed as he grabbed Scout's hand and placed the aviators back in it. "So it's probably best for you to keep 'em."

"Wait, what? What? Wait a minute, what?" The marksman only nodded. Scout stood there stunned before unfolding them and raising them to his head. "Like, you sure? Like, I can have these?"

"Long as you take good care of them, sides, Oi could use a new pair," Sniper said. Well… not one to look a gift horse, or a gift Sniper in the mouth, Scout slipped on the shades with a smile. The world instantly grew richer in warm colors, and some of that warmth translated into himself. He then marched past, grabbing Sniper's hand in the process.

"Well, c'mon, I'm just dyin' ta see da guys! Get it?" He heard Sniper groan, and felt his grin grow bigger, "man I'm freakin' starvin'! Like, holy s**t, I haven't eaten since freakin' MAY or somethin'! And Heaven don't count, dat's like… like soul food. I ain't talkin' about music either, people say it's soul food and it's like, ya can't eat it, only hear it and maybe you're able ta feel full after listenin' ta Bee-toe-van or somethin' but I ain't, okay? I need real stuff, like tacos. Man, I could go for some tacos right now, or a cheeseburger, a big one, one da size of Heavy's freakin' fist! You up for tacos?" He looked back to his friend, who shrugged. "Yeah, you're up for it, or burgers, or anythin' because I've waited three whole freakin' months for somethin' ta eat!"

Scout continued to ramble and continued to pull a quieter Sniper along. Soon they were walking side by side, one talking, the other listening, as they made their way to the base. And for the first time in months, both felt like the world had finally reached normality.