"I'll have a blue Christmas without you..." Elvis' voice warbled over the radio, echoing across the base, filling the silence as best as it could. The Texan glared briefly at the radio before turning back to his work, carefully soldering wire into place.
Swissmas Eve had come to the base and only Engineer was around to mark it. This year RED had remembered to give the mercenaries the holidays off. Most of the team had made arrangements and left town before head office changed their minds.
"I'll be so blue, just thinkin' ah-huh-bout you..." Elvis persisted, despite static.
"Shuddup," the Texan growled through grit teeth as he soldered another connection down. With everyone off base for the holidays he had hoped to distract himself with work.
"…Decorations of red, on a green Christmas tree…"
Clean his guns, tune up the brakes, change the oil in his truck, sort his science journals, pick up the mail (the Christmas package from his Ma included), go through the maintenance check list for the base, finish up old projects, write a long note thanking Ma for the new sweater which he was wearing, install new alarm systems. Do anything but feel sorry for himself. "…Won't be the same dear, if you're not here with me.." The list of chores he had written up to pass the time turned out to be a lot shorter than he'd have liked.
" And when those blue snowflakes start falling…"
At first the holiday had been good for him. He kept busy, had been fairly content and hadn't really been lonely despite the silence of the base. He'd been neglecting his workshop for months; the spiders living there had been more industrious than him. So the first few days of the vacation had been spent cleaning and re-organizing everything, clearing up the clutter, dust and cobwebs that had collected over the months. The workshop looked much better once he was finished but the job had taken up a lot less time than he had hoped.
"That's when those blue memories start calling." the radio crooned on and he restrained the urge to throw a wrench at it. If he broke it he'd just end up repairing it the next time the quiet started getting to be too much for him. Staying on base had initially seemed like a good idea, but he hadn't realized how much the silence would get to him.
You'll be doin all right, with your Christmas of white…"
No matter how busy he kept himself, the silence and emptiness seemed to seep into his thoughts and eat away at him.
What was Evie doing for the holidays? Spending time with her new beau, no doubt. Had she spared a thought for him or was, she too busy? Last year, he'd been one of the first men out the door to go home when vacations were given. Last year, he had someone to go home to. This year he was avoiding it. Nothing waited for him but an empty house and more silence.
"But I'll have a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas."
Fine job he was doing not feeling sorry for himself, he cursed under his breath. Pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, he placed the soldering iron back on its stand and tried to focus on the task at hand. If he was correct, that oughta be the final connection he needed to secure. Now he just needed to test it.
The plans for this project had been sitting around his work table for months, but they hadn't come together properly until now. While cleaning, he had stumbled upon a bit of inspiration in some previously discarded and long forgotten notes that helped wrap this up. Connecting a few wires in the proper places, he hooked up the power supply and pressed the button. The radio's crooning was cut short and dissolved into pulsing static and the dispenser in the corner of the room sputtered violently before finally shutting down. He grinned widely and chuckled, light glinting off his goggles, his spirits lifting.
Pressing the button again cut power off to the device, the radio resumed crooning and the dispenser soon returned to its steady reassuring hum. Still smiling to himself, he began piecing together the casing and screwing it all down. The remote was impractical for the battlefield, and RED would never approve it. But if the Spook was determined to try and get the jump on him in off hours, he wasn't going to let the man get the better of him again.
He had just tightened the last screw on the remote casing when a low alarm went off. Squinting at a small grid screen on the edge of the work table, the Texan's smile drew into a smirk as he watched a small blip move along the edge of the monitor.
With most of the team gone, RED had decided to conserve energy, turning Respawn and a few other non-essential systems off but leaving the basic alarms and security running during the holiday. This was supposed to keep out nosey locals, but did little to keep out other, more slippery bastards. So Engineer had made his own temporary additions to the building security. A few strategically placed warm body indicators here, a few motion sensors tucked around a corner there, all remotely tied to a small grid screen. Just sensors; no sentries, no turrets - it was the holidays after all. He didn't want to murder the man.
The dot moved down one of the corridors- looked like he came in one of the side doors. Now the Texan was sure that it was the BLU Spy- anyone else would have set the main alarms off by bastard had proven time and time again that the alarms didn't slow him down. So the snake was on base, but where was he going? What was he up to? Down the corridor, round the corner, into the barracks, round another corner and the blip disappeared.
The Texan rapped a finger sharply against the monitor but the screen remained blank. The Spy had either gone out of the limit of the sensors or found a way to sabotage them. Engineer rubbed his chin thoughtfully, Spy hadn't stopped anywhere long enough to tamper with anything. It would be more likely he had gone out of range. Somewhere that hadn't seem important enough for the Texan to put sensors down. That would place him around… the mess hall? What would he be doing in there?
Sliding off his stool, Engineer grabbed the new remote and slipped it in his pocket. If he was quick he might have a chance of getting the upper hand for once.
Up the stairs and into the cold deserted base, the Texan climbed, cringing when a stair groaned under his weight. The Spy probably, hopefully, hadn't heard that if he was in the mess hall. Stealth had never been a skill he was good at. Warily, he glanced around the halls listening for any sound of an ambush. But all was quiet and there was no sign of anyone.
Inching down the corridor, he noticed a light streaming from crack in a doorframe - from the kitchen. Now he was really mystified, why was would anyone break into the base's kitchen? Surely Spy wasn't starving and desperate for a can of beans. Engineer suppressed a snort at the unlikely image. As he crept closer to the door, a floorboard suddenly creaked under his foot. Well, if the bastard didn't know he was out here, there was little question now. With the element of surprise gone, he jammed his hand into his pocket and pressed the button on the remote. Through the door came a faint pop and he entered the room in time to hear a fizzling sound. The Frenchman faded into view standing next to the counter on the far end of the kitchen. The man remained frozen for a few moments frowning and looking at his own arm like it had offended him.
"Gotcha," the Texan chuckled, grinning widely and smugly displaying the remote.
"Bonsuir," the sidewinder replied smoothly, turning to face him- and suddenly froze. "What... what are you wearing?" he squawked with a disgusted grimace.
"What?" he nearly caught himself tilting his head to check, but didn't dare let the Frenchman leave his sight. "-Don't change the subject!" he protested, brandishing the wrench in front of him.
"It's even worse than your hideous suit." he went on with a shudder.
The man was revolted by his sweater. "My Ma made this!" he shot back defensively. So it was a rather bright shade of red, with reindeer and snowflakes on it. Lots of snowflakes. It was warm and festive. "Wait- that's not important." he reminded himself, "What are you doing here?" he demanded, still holding the wrench in front of him in warning.
"Aren't we past violence?" the masked man asked, giving the wrench a weary look.
"No," Engineer snapped. He finally got the jump on the bastard and the least he could do was acknowledge it. "What are yah doin' poking aroun-" it was then he realized he was smelling food. He cautiously sniffed the air. Real food.
For a second he glanced down at the counters, for just a second, before snapping his attention back to the Frenchman. Not quite grasping what he saw, he looked again. The Texan had been expecting the snake to try something, but somehow he hadn't expected the Spy to show up with a basket of food.
"What is all this?" he asked, feeling bewildered and silly. It looked like Swissmas dinner, there was no other reason for an elaborate meal with a small chicken, and more garnishes than anything had any right to, but why was it here? His mouth watered. He had neglected to eat much today. Or yesterday. He hadn't really been hungry. Until now.
"I'd assumed that would be obvious," came the sardonic reply, "or do they not celebrate Christmas in Texas?"
"Swissmas, " he corrected quietly, trying to keep the Frenchman in view while still gazing at the food on the counter. There was a bottle of wine, potatoes, some sort of vegetable dish covered in glaze, and dinner rolls. "Renamed… after the Reindeer Riots…" he trailed off- there was even what looked like dessert. A real cake, that had never seen a cellophane wrapper in its life. He tried to remember the last time he'd seen a cake.
"Swissmas dinner or whatever you Americans call it then." The Frenchman relented, with an exasperated sigh.
It looked great and smelled even better. It was probably poisoned. Or drugged. If he ate it he'd probably wake up and find he'd been dragged off somewhere else. The North Pole or something. As much as he hated to admit he'd enjoyedThanksgiving, this sort of thing was the constant stalking kidnapping and he couldn't let it continue.
"I ain't in need of charity." he snapped, firmly ignoring the sudden hunger pains as he tried to work out what the Frenchman was up to. It seemed highly unlikely that the man had delivered Christmas dinner out of the goodness of his heart. But why go to all this trouble to drug him? He certainly hadn't bothered in the past.
"No? So what were you going to eat? Some trash out of a can? Beans? Crackers?" Spy smirked.
The Texan chewed the inside of his lip, not willing to admit the man was right. He wasn't very handy in the kitchen and had been surviving on canned soup and military ration tins for the past few days. Either the snake was making very educated guesses or he'd been watching him. Neither option would surprise the him at this point.
"Really Monsieur..." the man tsked, "It's Noel, entire wars have been put on hold for this day, surely we can do the same."
The Engineer hesitated, this had to be a joke or trick. But it was the season for miracles, and the offered spread looked miles more appetizing than one of the MREs in the pantry. It would be a shame to waste all that food…There had to be a catch.
"I'm simply returning the favor from Thanksgiving." the man insisted, "You shared your cuisine with me. Now I am sharing mine."
"That's very …civil of ya." he murmured cautiously still not convinced.
"There are children starving in Africa. You are really going to let this go to waste?"
Those were words he never expected Spy, any Spy to say. Incredulously the Texan opened his mouth to retort but closed it again.
"In that case, I'll leave you to your meal." the Frenchman turned to leave, taking his silence as acceptance.
"You ain't stayin'?" he blurted, startling himself. It wasn't that he liked the man. But he was the only source of conversation around. If Spy left, he'd be back by himself. Just him and Elvis. On Swissmas Eve.
"I was merely delivering this," the man said with the smile of a saint.
The bastard' s smile made him suspicious. Nothing good ever happened when a Spy smiled. On the battlefield it meant something was about to explode or a knife was going into someone's back, usually his own. The food had to be poisoned, drugged, something. The snake wasn't doing this out of the kindness of his heart. This had to be a trick.
"There's more than enough here for both of us," he commented, attempting to sound casual and failing. If Spy ate with him, he'd know for sure the food was safe. It would also keep the bastard where he could see him. "Food tastes better shared." he insisted.
The Spy gave him a quizzical look.
"It's somethin' my Ma says', alright?" he said, raising his shoulders in an embarrassed shrug.
"You suspect I drugged it," the Frenchman deadpanned, seemingly unbothered by the accusation.
"...I can't imagine why I'd get an idea like that," he countered with a snort.
"Very well, Engineer, if you insist," Spy said with a reproachful sigh. "I would hate for all of this to go to waste."
"I'll find some plates."
"You'll only need to find one place setting"
"Eh?" he looked among the food and saw that indeed the man had provided a plate. It wasn't incredibly fancy, though it was an improvement to the beat up tin plates in RED's kitchen cupboards. But there was only one.
Digging in the cupboards produced an extra plate, battered and beaten but serviceable. Extra flatware had been dug up easy enough, though they were as battle scarred as the dishes.
"You can take that set," the Texa said nodding towards the china plate.
"Nonsense, I'll use the other one." the Frenchman insisted.
"I don' wanna be a bad host."
"I did bring this meal for you."
"But we're in my base…" Engineer faltered, it seemed rude to have Spy eat off the old plate. Common rules of courtesy never covered situations like who got the nice plate when a stalker brought you a meal. At least if there were rules for this, no one ever shared them. "How about a compromise?" he held up another beat up plate for the cupboard.
A second set of silverware was easily found and some old mugs were rustled up in lieu of wine glasses. Now they were even, and no one could say otherwise. If the Spy had any complaints about the beat up place setting he kept them to himself as they settled down at the small table in the kitchen. The table was smaller than the long dining table in the mess hall, but was just about the right size for two people to sit at.
The Texan watched warily as Spy sat down across from him, waiting for the man to take a bite of the meal. This might be second time he was having dinner with Spy, but he still didn't trust him as far as he could throw him.
The Frenchman said nothing, merely sighed and served himself a small helping of everything. Then one by one he took a bite of each, chewed and delicately swallowed.
"And I'm not dead." he observed, smugly taking a sip of wine from the beat up mug. "Now are you satisfied I'm not poisoning you?"
"Yah can't blame me for being suspicious," he retorted defensively. Slowly, he picked up his own knife and fork and began eating. Taking the first bite he began to doubt this was, in fact, chicken. The meat was more tender than any he'd had before, and melted in his mouth. He hadn't expected this to be any good, food from some restaurant in town in the middle the desert. He thought he'd eaten at all the places in Tuefort worth mentioning, few as they were.
"Where'd you get this?" he asked curiously as he took another bite.
"I got the cornish game hen and the zucchini shipped in, the rest I got from the supply shipment."
"Wait… y-you cooked this?" he gaped.
"Where else was I going to get a good meal in the middle of nowhere?" Spy sniffed.
"It's delicious." He mumbled sheepishly before lapsing into silence, his throat tightened as he swallowed. He hadn't expected the man to go to the trouble of cooking him dinner. Hell, all he'd planned on having for Swissmas dinner was some canned soup and crackers. He glanced from his plate, across the table Spy picked at his plate, not paying him any mind. What was the man playing at? Why had he gone to the trouble?
"Tell me, why exactly are you here alone for the holiday? Why not go back to Texas to that massive family of yours?"
Engineer was hardly surprised to find the spook seemed to know about his family. The man knew his name, suit size and where he kept his keys - why wouldn't he know about his family? He took another bite to keep from having to answer. Staying here, as maddeningly lonely as it turned out was less painful than going back home. Back to the empty house, the empty bed, the cold kitchen.
Worse than that was his family. The sympathetic silence, the pats on his shoulder telling him he'd find someone else, the reassurance that everything would be alright... Sam had offered to let him stay with him and his wife, he had declined. He couldn't face that, spending holidays with the happy couple. He just wanted to be left alone.
"Why aren't you off to… wherever you're from? Go see your family for the holiday?" he countered, breaking the silence.
"I don't have family."
"None?" Engineer blurted before he could stop himself.
"None worth mentioning," the Frenchman answered carelessly as he took another bite. He said it casually. As if it didn't matter to him at all. Though, now that the Texan thought about it, being an orphan would definitely account for some of the Frenchman's peculiarities.
"I'm… sorry to hear that," he said, realizing he meant the words more than a reflex courtesy. Unsure of what to say his gaze drifted back down to his plate.
"I'm not." Spy shrugged.
"Where are you from anyway?" he asked impulsively.
The Frenchman raised an eyebrow, he didn't need to say anything. He was being stupid asking questions he'd get no answer to. The man was his enemy, and a Spy to boot. He'd have better luck asking the sky for rain or Medic for mercy.
"Aw hell," he pressed, unsure if it was the wine talking or if he had lost his mind, "You probably know damn near everything about me, even the odds a bit."
"You're not as intelligent as I thought, Monsieur," the Frenchman said with a frown.
"You can lie, m-make it up, I'm just tryin' tah make conversation. Not like I'd know the difference," he added quietly before trailing off.
"Very well," the masked man purred, a smile playing on his lips. "I'm from Toulouse I suppose. I was found as an infant there on the side of the road by gypsies."
"Gypsies huh? Why not raised by wolves?" the Texan asked with a laugh.
"Don't be silly, Cowboy," Spy rolled his eyes. "There are no wolves in France. We are too civilized for that."
"Of course, shoulda known better. So you were raised by traveling gypsies?" he inquired, playing along.
"I grew up in a painted wagon, gypsy violins were my lullaby."
"Wagon? Like with horses? Live horses?" he tried picturing Spy anywhere near a real horse and failed.
"Wagon? Pardonne moi," the Frenchman apologized, eyes twinkling "I meant to say I grew up on a vineyard. My family owned a vineyard near Treyes."
"Owned?"
"Tragically lost during the war," he explained, humor draining from his face. Just when the Texan was starting to wonder if he was supposed be sympathetic, the man added, "We lost it in a game of cards. My father was always awful at bluffing."
"Your father was a gambling man?" the Texan asked, feeling like he was following the cue of a second rate comedian.
"Terrible. No stake was too high, he once tried to use my little sister as stakes in a game."
"So you have a sister?"
"Of course not, where did you get that idea?" Spy sniffed disdainfully.
"Not a clue where I would have gotten that notion."
"I am the only child of wealthy nobility." he corrected. Engineer suppressed a chuckle as the man began weaving another tale. "At a young age I discovered a taste for espionage, to my parents horror. They do not approve of my line of work. It's not what a viscount should be doing, you see. So when I came of age they disowned me and cut all ties."
"Is that why you wear the mask? Cause your parents made ya?"
"No, I wear it because it's comfortable."
"Mm-hmm," the Texan murmured in between bites.
"It also hides the acid burns inflicted upon me when I was thirteen."
"I suppose you went to live under an opera house after that incident," the Texan joked.
The Frenchman shot him an offended look across the table, "No- it was then that the government discovered my talents and took me in for training."
"What was that like?"
"Oh, it was grueling." Spy answered melodramatically. "A dozen of us boys, stripped of names, all issued identical suits, masks, and called by numbers."
"Sounds like the army."
"They taught us how to kill, how to infiltrate a building, what style of suits to wear for what occasion, how to seduce someone in ten words or less."
"… not quite like the army then." Engineer amended as he poured himself more wine.
"Non, we were much better dressed," Spy said with a laugh holding his empty mug out.
"So, what were they trainin' yah for anyway?" he asked, topping off the Frenchman's cup.
"I could tell you, mon ami," Spy smirked, "but then I would have to kill you."
"Well, dying wasn't really on my schedule for this holiday..."
"And killing you wasn't on mine." the man countered lazily, leaning forward to serve him a slice of cake.
"Glad we agree on that at least." Engineer chuckled as he took a bite of chocolate cake. The frosting was rich and dissolved on his tongue. The pastry tasted as amazing as it had smelled. It had been far too long since he'd had a good cake.
"So, yourself?" Spy asked, interrupting his revery.
"What about me?"
"I've shared my life story, what about yours?"
"Not much to tell really," he quietly took another bit of cake. "I wasn't raised by gypsies or anything excitin'. Spent most of my time helpin' my family on the farm, in school or tinkering around."
"You have any brothers or sisters back in Texas?"
"I gotta cousin or two who are good as. I grew up with them. But no siblings."
"What did you and your cousins do growing up?"
"Yah mean for fun? Usual kid stuff I guess… playin' cowboys and indians, football, real football mind yah-"
The Frenchman snorted but kept his disdain to himself.
"fishin', we'd shoot off fireworks every fourth a July and New Years, or whenever we could get away with it." Trailing off, he smiled to himself, losing his mind in the fog of warm childhood memories.
"How do Texans celebrate Chr-Swissmas?"
"Nothing too different from most folks. We all get together, all the aunts, uncles, cousins, and all the kids and all their...everyone." All their spouses, their families.
"And what do all of you do when you are together?" Spy prompted gently.
Engineer helped himself to another piece of cake, "We exchange presents, we sing some songs, eat a large dinner, sometimes play some games depending on the weather."
"And wear tacky sweaters?"
He glared across the table at the smug Frenchman, "It's festive." he said icily.
"If you say so Monsieur," Spy smirked, primly finishing off the last bite of cake.
"So why did you do this? - All of this?" Engineer asked, taking a last swallow from his mug.
"Hm?" the Frenchman looked up from his plate.
The wine must be going to his head, because he pressed the question again, "The strip joint, bailin' me out, the game- this dinner- what are you after?"
"After?"
"Don' play dumb, we're both too smart for that. What are you doin'?"
There was a pause as the spook sipped his wine, "You were boring."
"Pardon?" his brows furrowed. He had to be drunk, he could not have heard that correctly.
"You used to provide an interesting challenge. Gave me something to anticipate. Past months- your mind has not been on your job. It's been very frustrating. Going against an opponent whose distracted. Boring."
"Past months- yah mean…" the gears in his mind started turning, "… since the divorce. Yah- You've been…" his mind stumbled around for the words. This whole thing seemed almost ludicrous. As time had gone by, Engineer had gone over the possibilities in his mind. What would be the motivation to drive the Spy to shadow him, what was he doing? He had never suspected…" You're trying' tah cheer me up?"
"Get your mind off personal matters," Spy corrected.
"Tryin' to distract me-so I'd get back to work?"
"Oui."
The Texan sat there in silent incredulity- his brain processing the data. It made sense, twisted sense, true, but sense. The Frenchman was trying to… help. He'd been such a wreck, the enemy Spy saw fit to intervene. Kidnapping, stalking, destroying his property, stealing his truck, all in some odd attempts to help.
Engineer swallowed feeling hot shame creeping up his neck, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to thank the man or punch him in the damn nose.Nervously, he fidgeted with his sadly empty mug trying to figure out what to say. The team had expressed their sympathy, at least pretended when he had been at his lowest no one had done much but provide awkward silence. The only person who had gone to any great effort to help him had been an enemy.
The Texan swallowed before finally asking, "So, was this the finale?"
Spy frowned, "What do you mean?"
"Your 'project', tryin' to get me back on point… was this dinner the end of it? After this yah leave me alone?"
"Well, I would be hard pressed to out do this." the Frenchman pointed out, gesturing at the table and the remains of the feast.
The man had a point there. This would be a hard act to follow. Plus, Spy wouldn't admit it, but there had been occasions recently where it was the Frenchman that ended up in Respawn not opened his mouth to say as much but what came out instead was a yawn.
"Sorry," he apologized automatically. When was the last time he had slept?
Spy looked at his wristwatch and frowned, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. Glaring at the Texan he tucked the pocketwatch away. "It's getting late, I should be going." he got up from the chair.
Engineer glanced at his own watch, it was half past midnight. He hadn't realized how late it was. Sliding his chair back he stood up. "I should get to bed myself. Thanks for the dinner- and the company" he added quietly.
"Joyeux Noel, Engineer "
"and a Merry Swissmas to you," he grinned. Spy turned with a smile and walked out of the kitchen, the door shutting silently behind him.
With the Frenchman gone, yawning again his gaze fell on the table, covered in dirty dishes. Of course, the spook left him with the clean up. He chuckled quietly and shook his head. He could leave this mess for the morning, and just add to the base's mouse problem. That wouldn't do at all. The leftovers, few as they were, would be much appreciated for the next few days. Humming to himself, he started picking up the dirty dishes. His bed would still be waiting for him when he was done.
