A/N: Oh my god I'm so, so sorry I've been gone for so long again. I really didn't mean to leave, I swear! However, you can thank FauxPromises for dragging me back here, constantly checking to see if I'm writing, demanding I churn out another chapter. So go thank her, since I've finally written not one, but one and half chapters, and I've planned the ending, too! so I'm really, really sorry, but I'll update as often as I can - meaning whenever I get wifi - and hopefully have this done before I start school on the 20th.

Again, I'm really, really sorry, and, uh, enjoy?

Scout dreamed of home that night, for what must have been the first time in six years.

He dreamed of his seven brothers, and how life used to be before he'd been picked up by BLU. Not that it was a life to look back on fondly. None of them had had it easy, least of all their ma, who'd had to deal with the slow loss of each of her children, in one way or another.

The first, eldest of them all, killed by accident in a territory war by one of the local gangs. The second, given a life sentence in jail for murdering members of the gang that had killed his brother. The third and fourth, pressed into service for that very gang who'd just lost a couple of thugs, the fifth and sixth forced into service for a rival gang, and the seventh and eighth – Scout being the eighth – still in high school. All Scout had wanted for his life was to play baseball professionally. But how was he to get noticed by anyone when his brothers were too busy fighting to even pay attention to him? How could anyone else care if his own family didn't?

The fifth and sixth had ended up in a territory war against their own brothers, and both the third and the fourth had been killed. Scout had been furious – how could his own brothers kill each other? He'd been walking home from school one day, bat in hand, when members of the gang that had lost the territory war – the very gang Scout's third and fourth brothers had been in – had approached him, demanding that he join them or face the consequences. They painted numerous scenes for him – kill his remaining brothers, take his ma and keep her with them, beat him to a pulp – and still he said no. They demanded once more, pulling out their own guns, when Scout rushed forward, swinging his bat at the head of the leader. The man went down swearing, his gun dropping to the floor. The others tried to shoot at Scout, but he'd always been fast, and he got past them before they could fire, beating them down too. No one could threaten his ma and get away with it. He stood over the bodies, debating killing them, when he heard the sirens. Better not to stick around, then.

He'd run away, back home, to his ma and his last three brothers. The rest were dead and gone, and his ma was crushed to hear it. She'd suffered so much for the eight of them, and all she got for it was heartbreak. He came back with a bloody bat that dragged on the floor, and her hand went to her mouth.

"Oh, Scout," she'd murmured, standing and rushing over to hug him, all the while checking him for bruises and broken bones. This was a routine they both knew well, and yet unfamiliar all the same, because often the brothers would take care of each other, so ma didn't have to see. She knew, and they knew she knew, but it was a gesture nonetheless.

"'m fine, Ma," he'd replied, hugging her in return, hand clinging to his battered and dented bat. "'m faster'n 'em all." A proud grin accompanied that statement.

"Of course you are, you always have been, dear," she'd answered with a soft smile.

Shortly after that day, he'd been confronted by men in suits emerging from dark cars, telling him they'd seen his prowess, his ruthlessness, his speed, and they had a job to offer him. It paid fantastically, they said, and Scout was instantly interested. True, he'd always wanted to play baseball, but his ma needed the money, now that she'd lost four of eight children. And if this job could make him rich, then he could just quit one day and go and play baseball. Even if it did mean dropping out of school. So they took him along in their car, saying he could only go home to grab his gear and say goodbye to ma – unexplained absences didn't work for long – and then they'd be off. So he got home late, to a worried ma, and he told her how he'd found a job that would drown them in riches, and the money would get sent straight to her, without him needing to even see it. She'd fretted over him, saying he'd need the spending money, or that he'd be far, and would he be so kind as to write every week? But he convinced her it was a good setup – and who knew it? The youngest of them all would be the richest. He didn't count the fifth and sixth brothers, who would get rich from their gang-related job. Doubtless they wouldn't share much of it with ma, since they had to get homes and food and such. But the men had told him that he was not going to need any of the flood of money they'd be giving him. He'd be fed, clothed, boarded, and equipped with whatever gear he needed. And all that money would go to his ma and she could be rich too, and move out of this awful neighborhood, and get a real house.

Scout had been drunk on fantasy back then. Could he be blamed, though? An absent father – or four, if the rumors were true – and a bad neighborhood would make any kid wistful.

So he'd been carted off to TeuFort and his team of eight, where the work had begun—

A yell, enraged or pained, one couldn't tell, awoke Scout with a start, and he reached for his weapons instinctively, hand closing around his bat and pulling it out to swing. But there was no room to do so, and his arm scraped against the roof of his enclosure, and he panicked, trapped in the dark. But he had to remember, he wasn't back in Boston, stuck in a dead end with a gang hard on his heels. No, he was in his own base, trapped under a collapsed ceiling. He put his bat back in his bag, slowly, testing the walls as he went, hoping to push one away. But they were all pressed solidly against him. No way out, unless someone pulled the roof from him. Someone like Heavy.

But he'd been killed last night. The recent events rushed back, and Scout cringed at the memories, searching for light in the small area around him. And then he was struck with something from his dream. His ma had called him Scout. But…that wasn't his name. No one had called him Scout before he was assigned a role here. Scout sat, frowning. If that wasn't his name, what was? And how come he'd never dreamed of home before? The scowl grew as he moved to touch the bandages on his neck. And how come he'd been able to see Spy? Something wasn't right here, something beyond Respawn's malfunction.

A crash broke through his reverie, and he flinched, pressing back against the wall, listening.

"Sniper! Get that slab over there!" That was Soldier. So he'd made it through the attack, and so had Sniper, apparently. Scout couldn't help but wonder, for just a moment, what their real names were, before he banged against the concrete, shouting.

"In here! I'm here!" Someone shouted in response, and the crashes and clangs came more often, as concrete was moved out of the way. A few minutes later, and the slab above his head was torn away, light pouring in. Scout flinched away, his eyes screwing shut, waiting for them to adjust. Just as they did, he was hoisted out of that hole by Sniper, who seemed endlessly relieved that he was still breathing. He coughed, expelling dust he'd swallowed on his way out, and grinned at the Australian.

"Takes more'n a fallin' roof ta' kill me, man! Ya' look like ya' thought I was gone," he said as he was put down, brushing dust off his shoulders and his bag, reaching in to check on his weapons. Sniper's face fell for a moment, glancing over at the far wall of the room, and Scout peered over there too. "What's up?" he asked, stepping over there.

"Medic's dead. So's Heavy. An' Demo's in a bad way. We were hopin' fer' Medic ta' help 'im out." Scout frowned.

"Spy?"

"Missing," was the Australian's terse reply, and Scout could tell he wasn't pleased with that fact. For all they knew, Spy was hiding somewhere, totally safe.

"And Engineer?"

"Fine. He was down at Respawn when everything fell ta' pieces. They didn' find 'im." Scout nodded, tallying up their numbers in his head. Just six of them left, if they could find Spy, and if Demo was alright. Otherwise, they were down to four. And RED had seven. This was looking bad.

Soldier seemed to follow the same train of thought, his scowl deep. "We attack in…in…" but he seemed to realize that without a Heavy, without a Medic, they didn't have much chance of anything beyond defense. And without sentries, they barely had that. If Spy didn't show, if Demo didn't get better…there were too many ifs. "Refortify the base!" He shouted instead, and Scout couldn't help but roll his eyes. Soldier would never admit that he'd said anything different, nor admit that he didn't plan on attacking. But he knew that he couldn't live to fight another day if he'd lost all his men. Better to save the fight for when they were better equipped to deal with it.

Scout left with Sniper, and the bodies of Heavy and Medic were left in the hospital room. BLU had never had to deal with a dead body – Respawn soon snatched it away and replaced it with a living person – and so they just ignored them, the elephants in the room.

"'m glad yer' okay, mate," Sniper said, and Scout punched him in the shoulder, smiling fondly. He supposed he would have been scared too, if he'd found Medic dead, and was just searching for another body, especially if it were Sniper. Worse still, he'd never heard them calling, and they must have thought him dead. He imagined Sniper stuck in the concrete, and wondered how he'd have coped. Sniper was like a father to him, the only one he'd ever known. The Australian was gruff and irritated around the others, but he was amusing and almost cheerful – in his own way – around Scout. They'd become fast friends, and Scout knew, easily, that if he lost Sniper, he probably would have reacted in the same way RED's Heavy had after he lost their Medic.

"Me too, man, me too." He looked over at the wall, staring at the blue stripe painted along it as they walked toward Respawn, to find Engineer. "But I had a dream last night. 'bout home, I mean." Sniper's gaze snapped to him, and he realized this wasn't normal for him either. "'cept everyone kept callin' me Scout." He shook his head. "When I woke up, I knew that wasn't my name, but…I can't 'member it." He looked away sheepishly, as if he knew that he should know his name, as if all the others did.

"'at's funny," Sniper mused, "Ah can't 'member mine neither." Scout looked up at him, and met a gaze that was about as confused as his own.

"'s been six years, but it's not that easy ta' ferget yer' own name…" Scout frowned, and sped up just slightly, Sniper matching his speed. "Maybe Engineer'll know."

"Maybe," the Australian agreed, though he sounded dubious.

When they reached the Respawn room – rather, the room that powered Respawn – they found Engineer still sitting at the computer, wires spilling around him as he tinkered. He turned around to look at the two of them, and frowned.

"Heavy and Medic are gone, huh?" he asked, searching their faces for an answer.

"Yeah—" Scout started to say, but was interrupted by Sniper.

"How'd you know?" the Australian demanded. Engineer stared at the two for a moment, before heaving a great sigh and beckoning them over.

He explained the chips, the procedure they'd done on Scout, how they'd hoped it would help – and it seemed it had – and how the chip had seemed like a parasite. "But, now that Medic's gone, we can't put in Scout's chip, nor take out the rest of ours. An', ta' make it worse, that's where the headaches have been coming from." Sniper seemed to understand suddenly, and Scout wondered if everyone had been having headaches.

"When'd you two figure all o' this out?" he asked, irritated.

"Coupl'a days ago. Medic said it'd be better not ta' tell anyone. I'm startin' ta' think differently." The Texan scratched at his head, pondering. "In fact, I'm startin' ta' think it's better we gave up, her—"

"What!"

"No way, mate!"

"Woah woah, partners, hold your horses! I said it's probably better we give up here. We leave the base. Take over another Respawn system, load up our info, and respawn there." Engineer rushed to get it all out, and as Scout thought on it, it didn't seem too bad of an idea. Maybe it was better to cut and run.

"But we don't even know where the next base is. I mean, I've only seen them from the inside. We've never been transported with anything other than teleporters…" Scout protested, even though he agreed with the Texan's plan. Hopefully Soldier didn't catch wind of it.

"They can't be too far. The teleporters aren't built for long distance. We've never had a bad transfer, which means it can't be all that far."

"What's 'far'?"

"Hundred miles? Maybe two hundred. Can't give ya' an exact number, I've never tried to run schematics for it."

"A hundred miles!" Sniper exclaimed. It was an easy enough distance to cover by vehicle, but all of theirs – like Sniper's RV – had been confiscated on arrival. On foot? That distance wasn't an easy one to cover, especially considering that there was no cover from the sun around TeuFort.

Engineer shrugged. "I don't see any other way."

"What do we tell Soldier? And what about Demo?" Scout asked, crossing his arms.

"Well, if you make it—"

"Me?"

"Of course you, mate," Sniper interjected, "You're the fastest. Most likely ta' make it out in one piece, too. You're used to dodging and running."

"I guess…"

"Anyway, if you make it, we don't need to worry about who's died and who hasn't. Respawn will take care o' that. Plus, you have to go, because if you die, there's no comin' back. You've lost your chip. There's no expectin' Respawn ta' pick you up," Engineer explained, calmly, slowly. Scout frowned, suddenly hit with the weight of what he had to do. How far he had to run. How his team was depending on him. How they were trusting him with their lives.

"And Pyro? Heavy? Medic?"

"Heavy and Medic'll be fine. But Pyro…well…his log was wiped when he died, before we knew what to do. There's no bringing him back."

"But you saved them? The logs?" Scout prompted, and Engineer nodded, pulling out a small stick from his toolbox.

"You take this, you stick it into the Respawn machine you find – like so," he pointed where, without actually plugging in the memory stick, "and ta-da. It's all programmed to work and bring us back as soon as it finds us dead."

"Yeah, alright. Makes sense. I guess." Scout wasn't happy at the thought of having to leave his teammates, but it was all too logical for him to deny leaving. He couldn't risk his life when there was no guarantee of coming back – rather, the guarantee of him not coming back was there. And no one else could outrun RED's scout like he could.

"When do we do this?" Sniper asked.

"Tonight."