"He won't find out."
"Promise?"
"He won't find out what I know."
"I copied this out for you." Demoman dropped the book down in front of Spy. "You asked, an' I trust you… Not like I got any'ne else to right now. Don't make me regret it, Spy." He looked over to the door longingly before dragging out the chair. It scraped on the ground and he let himself fall into it. Demoman slumped down until his chin just barely hovered above the table.
"Having zat hard a time?" Spy asked around the cigarette in his mouth, stretching a hand out to lightly grasp the tattered notebook. He pulled it closer and held the stained cover open while his eyes darted across the first page. "Your writing is horrific. I'll do my best to read it, though." After not receiving a response, Spy glanced over at the heap of a Scotsman across the crate that was serving as a table.
"Jus' hard without my drink right now… Like if they took away your smokes." He heaved a sigh and toyed with his eye patch. "Whotever Medic's got in 'is head is wrong… Jus' it ain't right. Ah, I hate bein' sober."
"Zat is probably ze type of thing you want to avoid saying if you want to get out of your probation period and to shake whatever thoughts out of Medic's head." Seeing expressions behind the mask were usually difficult, but Spy seemed to be going out of his way to make the worried arch of his eyebrows and slight frown more noticeable.
"Wot do they expect? They've taken everythin' from me! Can't even call me mum or write her, nothing to do all day, I don't even have my damned explosives to tinker with." He let out a harsh bark of a laugh slip out with a sneer. "Ah'm goin' back to mah room."
Spy flipped another page in the book, the dates were old and the writing new. Copied journal entries were scribbled out onto the pages. So much of it seemed foreign, and it felt much to personal to be read in such a place. Spy straightened out in the abused sofa; this sort of taboo feeling rarely bothered him anymore, it was his job to infiltrate and read top secret and personal files. Still, reading something like this about one of your own teammates, written in his own shorthand and being his own thoughts…
"These are over six years old…' Spy whispered, reminding himself. "Some are over a decade…" He sighed and continued reading.
I remember when Da lost his other eye. Not that big of a deal in out family, bad luck at work. Bad luck in general. I lost my own bloody damned eye as a kid trying to fuck around with Nessie- well that's not really relevant I guess…
Da's anniversary was last week, that's why I canceled, Mum still doesn't really know much. She spent the evening like she normally did. I don't remember much… Just remembered I started drinking around noon and woke up the next day wishing I went out drunk and died. Basically the same.
An older entry written out of chronological order caught Spy's eye. Demoman must have copied them out as he saw in his own old journal. This was dated about the time the therapy would have started and was more than a year older than the entry he had just read.
I'm stuck here. Being fucking forced to write with some motherfucker over my shoulder and nothing of my own here. They won't even let mum in or let me call her. I just want to say goodbye because this whole business ends one of two ways. They're institutionalizing me or I'm getting out and blowing my body to bits all over the field. Nobody is going to win this.
Spy knocked tentatively at Demoman's door. The other member cracked it open a fraction, glaring out. Spy pulled the book out from his suit and held it out; it was time it was returned, he had already made his own legible copy.
"I was just bringing zis back, I've finished reading it." He kept a stoic face, neutral. Demoman looked at his apprehensively before opening the door more.
"Aye. And…?" He leaned in the door frame, his stance telling of how weary he was with the situation in the base. "Are you on Medic's side and tryin' to get me locked up in a loony bin or are you jus' goin' to shun me too?"
"You expect too much harshness, I simply wanted to talk to you after reading it."
"That's wot they said… Look, jus'- I'm not interested. I go' over it, I go' better." He grit his teeth, "I jus' want mah damn drink back an' I wan' t'be able t'do me job."
"I understand zat, but Medic doesn't, does he?" Spy took a step closer, letting his hand hold the book loosely at his side. He tried to make eye contact, but was greeted with the other man's stubborn downcast stare. He stooped a bit and looked up to catch his eye. "S'il vous plaît," The Scotsman's eye slowly left the Spy's and turned back into his room. "Merci." Spy walked in unobstructed.
"Und vhat is zis?" Medic held up a folder, eyes straining at the faint blue silhouette that was retreating from his office. "Unmarked papers? A report on ze RED team? Vhat?"
"Information on Demoman's condition, written by ze man himself." Spy let his cloak drop and leaned against the wall, tilting his head to look at Medic from across the room. "All old, self-written evaluations and thoughts while he was…" Spy lit a cigarette while he stalled. "Under care."
"He vas 'under care'?" Medic quirked a brow, taking in the Spy's slack posture and dark eyes. "Vhat does zat mean?"
"Its for you to figure out, but he is doing quite fine. Ze changes in his person are due to idleness." He took in a large breath to fight off a yawn. "In fact, I believe he is busy with ze laborer at ze moment, back to himself without ze overbearing stench of alcohol." He pushed himself off the wall and shrugged. "As ze doctor, all decisions have finality with you on zese subjects, but we have a match again with RED soon… I really would hate to lose again. Its bad for ze team's morality. Think about letting him work again."
"Ach! Engie, you're a bloodeh genius! Those damn REDs won't even know wots happening!" Demoman clapped his hand onto Engineer's back, winding the shorter man.
"Ah, it ain't nothing' much. Just tweaking the sentry's system and matchin' it up with ol' Solly's ideas on the weak spots of the base… It is a pretty good idea, and it might work, but its still in a testin' phase… We won't know until tomorrow."
"Gentlemen," Spy waved his hand lazily, "Tomorrow is our second last battle at zis post, ready?"
"Well, I'll be tryin' my darnedest to give 'em hell." Engineer whacked his wrench against his palm, grinning. "And Demo's been a great help in preparing everythin' I needed help with."
"Spy, you got tae see wot this bloody brilliant boyo thought up! It'd be amazing' tae see it workin'!"
"Ah, well, I'll look forward to it zen." Spy straightened his back a bit, suppressing the urge to stretch any more than that. "I'm going to see if we have any news on our new post yet. Laborer, mind if I borrow your assistant?"
"Not at all, Spah, we've just about finished up." Engineer turned and continued what he had been working on.
"Have you been writing for me again?" Spy pulled out another cigarette to fight off his fatigue as he spoke.
"Aye, I've been doin' it. Every night." Demoman stuffed his hands in his pockets as he fell in stride beside Spy. "As long as you donnae have mah notebook…"
"Mm…" Spy took a moment to enjoy his nicotine fix. "And is zere anything which you wish to share, or would you prefer to wait until tonight again?"
"You seem out o' sorts, we donnae have to tonight…" Demoman stole a side glance at Spy. The man was still walking with slack posture and his clothes were ever so slightly wrinkled. "One night isn' tha'big deal…"
"Don't fret, I'm fine," Spy cleared his throat and straightened unconsciously. "Tonight, then."
A/N: I sort of want to expand on this idea… Add in the night sessions, go more into the past, etc. I guess I'll make a story line if I want to. Lemme know if its worth pursuing. Its a bit more serious than the first chapter~