A/N: Hi! You prolly thought I would never update... You were right. Many a thanks to EnderGirl for encouraging me to write. (You should go and check out her profile. She has some really good fics up.) Anyways, on with the story!
"Herr Heavy?" Medic called as he walked into the infirmary. There was no one in sight.
Odd. Medic had ordered Heavy to stay the night in the Medical Bay to make sure there were no malfunctions with the heart after the battle the day before, and the larger man had habit of listening to the doctor. Medic couldn't spot Heavy in the room and decided there would be no reason to double check - Heavy would never be able to hide himself in Medic's workplace.
The doctor walked to the door that led out of the bay and opened it while thinking. Heavy would most likely be in the kitchen to make himself a fresh sandvich. It wouldn't be too strange. The Russian had left a battle to add mayonnaise to a dry sandvich once after all. Medic took a step into the waiting hall and paused when he breathed in the different air.
The scent of blood hung in the breeze. Medic swallowed thickly as pictures of torture and gore entered his mind. Something had gone wrong. He shook his head to clear it of the possible scenarios that would be cause this much blood to be spilled and hurried to find the source of he smell.
No one was in the garage. Or the kitchen, dining room, living room, wash room, or any of the downstairs rooms really. That only left the bedrooms and Medic ran upstairs to check them, almost falling over himself at one point.
The closest door was Heavy's, the first room on the right. Medic couldn't hear any noises coming from it but he knocked anyways. When he got no answer he entered the room and shut the door behind him. He saw Heavy's silhouette and allowed himself a small smile. It looked like Heavy was sitting on the edge of the mattress. "Heavy?"
The man stood at the name. A twinge of pain shot through Medic's legs. He grimaced at the uncomfortable feeling, which got more and more intense with every passing second. Heavy stood tall in front of Medic and he stared at the monster in front of him.
Heavy was wearing his normal battle attire, but rips and tears crossed every article of clothing. The shirt was just shreds and the pants had gaping holes in them. Heavy didn't wear his shoes or gloves or bullet sash. His skin was worse than the state of his clothes, Medic noticed. Through the tears in his shirt, Medic could see deep cuts littering his chest. Bruises covered almost every inch of flesh, giving Heavy a dead, sickly look. His arms had small slashes on them and his legs had large patches of skin missing with muscles, tissues, and bone gleaming in the dim light. Heavy's left eye was swollen shut and his lip was bleeding. The only part of him left unscathed was his hands.
"Vhat happened?!" Medic panted, the feeling in his lower half growing more painful. No answer. Heavy took a step towards the struggling doctor and the mans legs gave out. Medic sank to his knees and reached for his head. His hands clawed uselessly at the slicked-back curls but he continued anyways, wanting to rid his body of the unnatural pain he was feeling.
Heavy bent down in front of Medic, lip curled in disgust. "You could have helped. If only you had felt my pain during the surgery like you're feeling it now." Heavy continued to talk but Medics mind began to fog and the words blended in with the buzzing in his ears. Medics hands dropped from his head as the world started to become black. He felt Heavys large hands grasp his neck.
"Maybe you should put others before yourself for once."
Medic jolted up from his bed. His legs were tangled in his blanket and his pillows had fallen onto the floor. He looked around his room to make sure he wasn't dreaming again. No, it was the night after a successful battle, almost four in the morning. Medic ran his hand through his hair and glanced down at it, small drops of blood on his fingers. Had he been pulling his hair like he had in the dream?
He stood slowly from his mattress and winced at the echoing pain in his thighs. Medic clumsily slid his glasses from the nightstand to his face. A glance to his mirror showed his sad state - his glasses hung on the end of his nose, his hair was plastered to his head with sweat, blood stained small portions of his scalp and hands, and he looked miserable. Medic straightened his spectacles and calmed himself down enough so that his expression became neutral.
The doctor shook his lingering feelings of dread and fear and walked towards Heavy's room. The dream-Heavy's words ran through Medics head as he stumbled to his friends place of rest. He cared for the others. Right?