A/N: Holy. Stinking. Sewer water. No way did I get 52 reviews. My eyes are watering up.
Thank you so much - every last one of you. I'm getting so many feels. ;-;
No, seri'sly. Ya all ROCK.
I've never actually finished a multichapter story before.
You guys helped. LOADS. WUV YOU.
You have my permission to empty out the Aussie-pity-tears you've been saving under mattresses and in filing cabinets.
"Ve'll miss you!" assured Medic, one of the first in the crowd of REDs.
The airplane was due to begin flight in about fifteen minutes. It was the final depart before Sniper would be shipped off back to Australia, his very now-pissed-off parents, and his old friends that his long-term memory loss had helped him forget.
The Sniper uniform had been nearly swiped right off of poor Mister Mundy, as were his rifles and his trusty camper van. (It seemed Mann Co. owned a good portion of everything their ex-Sniper had.) The good Samaritan that he is, Engineer had taken the liberty of packing Sniper's bags and finding an outfit for the go-away day.
Inside the spare empty use-only-in-dire-emergencies-involving-misplaced-briefcases RED intel - they decided to give it to him as a departure gift for memory's sake - were the bare necessities: a comb, three paper clips, a misshapen toothpick, and his entire collection of swimsuit magazines.
Sniper himself looked completely unrecognizable. Somewhere in the mess under Sniper's bed, Engineer had found a pair of Bermuda shorts that - though they showed off way too much leg hair - matched an enormous blue pineapple-shirt Sniper had hanging from the ceiling fan. Even his shoes had been Mann Co. property, so his feet were enshrouded in the classic catwalk catastrophe: black socks and black sandals. At least Sniper's hat and glasses were still intact. Otherwise, the team would have to be saying goodbye to a complete stranger who seemed to be a 43-year-old tourist that had gotten lost on his way to Hawaii.
Of course, not the whole team decided to take the thirty-minute ride to the airport. Soldier stayed at the base because he had to 'organize his thoughts'. At first, it was the-team-minus-one, but then Demo made up some excuse for them to drop him off at a pub halfway there.
And now they were just one of the many families crying as they waved goodbye to businessmen with tear-stained handkerchiefs. Except for the fact that they were not a family, they most certainly weren't crying, Sniper was nowhere near a businessman, and their tear-stained handkerchiefs deserved more depressing occasions.
"Ah simply don't know how we're gonna git by," sighed Engineer. He meant it.
And when I said 'he meant it', I said it in awe. Engineer was the only one that actually seemed to be emotionally connected with other human beings. Medic was doing a great job pretending to care, Pyro and Scout were busy giggling about something only they could understand, Heavy seemed to have an overall indifference to the situation and, lastly, Spy looked so casual he could have just shrugged and walked off.
"T'was Halloween," said Sniper. No one chose to hear him.
Medic let out a very good pretend-sigh. "Ah...it's going to be so different in za base wizout you."
"Yeah." Scout looked into the heavens above, sighing up into his Sherlock hat. "I mean, how is we all gonna live wit'out some silent pervo who looks at doity pictahs of women all by himself? And does nothin' except squat around like a chicken turd in basic'lly every battle dat evah even took place? Man, we'll miss ya so hard."
"Gmmdh rmmdhnce tmmh bmd rhmmbsh!" Pyro laughed.
"Aw, be quiet, ya two troublemakers!" snapped Engineer in a hoarse whisper that everyone could hear. "This is the last goddarned time yer ever gonna see him so ya better not act up!"
"T'was Halloween," repeated Sniper, mostly to himself, "and Warren's little sister knew how to tie-dye..."
A British voice above them informed the train station that there were 10 minutes before the flight to Australia.
Heavy stuck out his arm to the muttering Aussie. "Eet was so good time when you are on team. You will shake hand?"
Sniper looked up with a deathly glare. "When's the last toime Oi spoke to you outside a' battle, fatso?"
"Eh..." Heavy was stumped. His hand shriveled to his side.
Spy took the opportunity to bid farewell. "Bushman?"
He turned towards Spy, leaving the Russian somewhat hanging. "Th' hell do you want?"
"In all seriousness..." The solemn eyes beneath the mask enforced that sentence. He pulled his cigarette out of his mouth and exhaled a cloud of smoke, making an old lady behind him cough up a storm.
Spy locked his eyes into Sniper's and said plainly, "I will miss you."
Sniper sniffed. "Oh, goody."
Spy ignored the sarcasm. "I will miss your sickening smell of urine."
"Hm."
"I will miss slapping you across zhe face whenever I disagree with you."
"Hm."
"I will miss wearing your shoes."
"Whot?"
"Never mind." Spy smiled.
And now there were 5 minutes left.
"I wondah how it felts ta be a hippie," Scout thought aloud.
"T'was Halloween," grumbled Sniper.
Scout turned to Medic with a squint. "Did Nazis kill hippies too, or were they, like...yeah?"
Medic regretted not bringing a spare truckload of fluoxetine. "Zat's vun of the dumbest things I'd evah heard in my entiah life."
No one in their right mind would understand Scout as he beamed proudly. "Thanks, bozo. Yer pretty old, so that's sayin' a lot."
Pyro appeared to understand Scout in some sort of way, because the arsonist found the situation to be one of the most hilarious things in the entire world.
Sniper's shoulders gradually sank. "A lot a' people slammed their doors in my face instead of givin' me treats. Some people threw tomatoes, actually. My mum said maybe my costume was too convincin'."
Engineer placed a glove on Sniper's shoulder, making Sniper snap his neck up.
"Now, don't ya go on with mumblin' ta yerself and bein' all down in th' dumps." Engineer smiled reassuringly. "Soon enough you'll be home with all them family an' yer home sweet home and all that." He twitched. "And yer...uh, magazines."
"Don't forget about zhe stewardesseesss..." sang Spy, who was able to turn any sentence into a suggestive tune. He subtly directed his gaze towards a certain uniformed woman walking past them.
Sniper flicked his brows and craned his neck to properly admire the sight. "Woah."
"Yeah, Spy," Scout began.
Scout beginning anything was not a good thing.
"I mean, maybe the stewardesses gonna be nice ta you. Because da stewardesses don't even know that yer a dirty stinkin' rotten liar dat reads golfing magazines, and also magazines about wi'men leaning ovah cars. Dey don' even know dat yer a complete low-life who's never gonna get laid. And dey don' even barf in deir mouth a little bit when dey see ya, 'cause...y'know. None a' dem sorta found out yet dat ya just lost yer job where ya used to use a gun ten thousan' times da size a' yer dick and throw yer smelly pee-pee at people."
Sniper's expression turned completely neutral. At least he took it well, for he was used to people leaving cuts and bruises in his sliver of self-worth that he'd left lying around somewhere back at his room.
Scout held out for two seconds before bursting into uncontrollable laughter with Pyro.
Engineer sighed at his own unresolved stress issues. "An' there goes another gray hair..."
In the spur of the moment, Sniper caught sight of the clock nailed to the far wall. "Damn, three minutes. Oi should get goin'."
"Ve'll miss you!" assured Medic.
Though he tried his best not to, Scout ended up insulting more people. "I concur y'already said dat. Yer losin' memory too, just like Solja. I betcha yer old enough ta be my gran'pappy. Hell, ya can even be my gran'pappy's gran'pappy. No, wait, ya can't have kids, 'cause yer gay. Plus yer way too old to even belong in my family's entire gen'ration."
Medic's nostrils flared and he nearly fumed smoke out of his ears.
"How come e'ryone on this team is a bunch of old people? What is dis, a fuckin' retirement home? How come I'm always da freakin' youngest one? Like, y'are all complete retards. None a' you even ever heard a' Elvis P'esley! And Elvis P'esley is the shit, bro. You all suck.
"Except you, Pyro. You're chill. I mean, we're like, da biggest Elvis fans in da whole wild world. 'Cause we're young an' hip. But Medic? Damn, I'm su'prised he got enough hip left for him to stand up. I mean, how does he even - "
"Aw, clam it already, Scout!" snapped Engineer.
A good Heavy must always defend his Doktor. "Yes, Scout, ees best if you stay hush. No one loves your tiny prick mouth to talk."
Scout grinned. "Is dat a challenge, baldie? Oo-hoo-hoo, what'cha gonna do - give me fuckin' OBESITY?"
Engineer winced. "Harsh."
Heavy cracked his knuckles in preparation. "YOU ARE BE QUIET THEES SECOND, OR ELSE YOU NEVER TALK AGAIN!"
By now the entire airport was making snoopy side-stares at their argument.
And then Scout burst into song. It was set to the tune of Mary Had a Little Lamb.
One must really wonder how Scout's brain works.
"MEDIC HAD A BIG FAT ASS WHOSE FLEAS WAS RED AS PUUUUUNCH!
"AN' EEEE'RYWHERE DAT MEDIC WENT, HE ATE STEAMED DICKS FER LUUUUUNCH!"
Scout's brain is the true enigma of this story.
A muffled giggle-fit filled the air.
Heavy inched closer. "YOU NEED HELP WIS'H SHUTTING OWN MOUTH, LEETLE RUNT OF LEETLE LEETER?"
Medic groaned. "Heavy, really, just ignore him..."
It seemed a compromise was not something a Russian would agree with. "I WILL LET NO ONE TALK OF MY DOKTOR IN SUCH WAY!"
This was all too much of a public embarrassment for Spy, who considered it a sin to dine with elbows on a table. "Oh, zhis is just marvelous."
Just as Spy began to bicker, all the passengers that were due to fly to Australia were commanded to report to their correct gate immediately.
"Well, Oi s'pose this is goodbye," grumbled Sniper.
"MEDIC WENT TO FIGHT ONE DAY, FIGHT ONE DAY, HE'S REAL GAAAY!"
"SCOUT EES ASK FOR HEAVY TO POUND SKULL INTO FLOOR!? COMMAND WILL BE DONE!"
Engineer skittered about, hurriedly patting everyone's shoulders. "FELLAS! FELLAS, EVERYONE'S STARIN' AT US! MEDIC! MEDIC, TELL 'EM TA QUIET DOWN, THEY DON'T LISTEN TA ME!"
"ALVAYS ME! ALVAYS ZA CRY OF 'MEDIC', 'MEDIC'! VHY AM I ALVAYS IN ZA MIDDLE OF ZIS GOTTVERDAMTEN SCHISS!?"
Scout decided that improvising was the way to go. "MEDIC WENT TO FIGHT ONE DAY...BUT HEAVY FUCKED HIM INSTEAAAAAAAAAAD!
"AN' THEN AFTER THAT THEIR FUCKJUICE WENT ALL OVER THE ENTIRE BAAAAAAAAAASE! AND THEN THEY CLEANED IT UP WITH HEAVY'S FLABBY TITTIEEEEE-EEEEEE-EES!"
Spy slapped his own face, which was his own method of resisting the urge to slap everyone else's. "SCREAMING IN AN AIRPORT! ZHAT'S TRULY A NEW LOW! I CAN'T BELIEVE I 'AVE EVEN BROUGHT MYSELF NEAR SUCH NINCOMPOOPS! MANNER-LESS AND IMPROPER, YOU ARE!"
Sniper watched for a moment.
"Y'know..." he began under his breath as the shrieks of his teammates droned on. "Oi learned something today. Two things, really."
Scout doubled over as soon as Heavy belted his knuckles to Scout's tummy. "OW! FUCK! MY FUCKIN' STOMACH! OW! DOC! IS DERE A FUCKIN' FIRST AID KIT ANYWHERE? SHIT! OW! DIS IS JUST LIKE 2 DAYS AGO WHEN HEAVY BROKE MY FUCKIN' SPINE WHEN I DIDN'T EAT HIS SHIT DUMPLINGS! MEDIC! C'MON, HEAL ME, HEAL ME ALREADY, YA FAGGOT!"
"Oi learned whot makes us a team. It's more than just the gunfoightin'. Ya'd think it is - just the gunfoightin', Oi mean. That's whot Oi thought at first too. Oi thought 'hey, look at me gettin' all these headshots. Oi bet'cher bottom dollar RED's gonna win aaaall thanks ta me!' Ya think that at first, when ya join yer team. But...nah. That ain't it. There's some sorta team bond that we hold even outside a' th' foights, and it's that bond that makes us stick togetheh."
"VHY AH YOU ASKING ME, SCOUT!? I DON'T VURK IN ZA AIRPORT, DO I!? VHY AM I EVEN GOING TO HELP YOU IF WE'RE NOT BATTLING!? VHAT'S ZA FICKING POINT!?"
"Oi wondered some days if it would suit me ta just be quiet. Just pry my mouth shut and pretend not to hear everyone else's blabber. That's how Oi was in the beginning; Oi was praying to sweet lord above that all a' ya could jus' rack off wit the talkin' and we could all battle each-man-for-himself."
"Y'ALL BETTER ZIP YER DAG NAB LIPS! AH DON'T WANNA HEAR NO MORE SHOUTS OUTTA ANY A' YOU!"
"Ya think it's the scheme that makes a win. It's not. It wasn't the guns that made us win, either. It wasn't th' number a' sentries. Or the number of blokes ya bludgeoned by the end a' th' day. Or the number of übers Doc's doovalacky could shoot out. That's whot Oi thought, and that's whot everyone thinks. But that ain't it at all."
"SCOUT, YOU WILL SEE WHO IS BEST MAN ONCE YOU COUNT HOW MANY PAIN I PUT WITH MY FEEST INTO YOUR TINY BABY GUT."
"It was friendship. It was friendship winning. It was friendship that screwed those ugly BLU hogs roight over their fat clackers. It was friendship that made us hoigh-foive each other as soon's Announcer said we'd won. It was friendship that made us take turns makin' dinner and flickin' the volume up and counselin' each other whenever anythin' ever went wrong."
"I WISH I 'AD NEVER MET ANY OF YOU INCOHERENT EXCUSE FOR PEOPLE. WHAT AN EMBARRASSMENT TO EVEN BE IN THE SAME ROOM WIZH ANY OF YOU! I WISH I 'AD BROUGHT MY CLOAKING DEVICE SO I COULD VANISH RIGHT OUT OF 'ERE!"
"At first none of you accepted me..."
"SNMMPHR, YMH FMMCKNGH FHGMMT! THMMSH MS MHLL BMMCMS MMF YMH!"
"...but slowly we grew into a family."
"HEY, HEAVY! YO MAMA SO FAT DAT AFTAH I BONK 'ER WIT A BAT, SHE SHAKES FER THREE DAYS!"
Sniper tipped his hat. "Oi ain't gonna lie, and Oi'll miss you all. 'n fact, Oi'll never stop thinking about all that time we spent together as a team.
"Friends we were, an' friends we'll stay. In my mind, at least. And that's a bloody oath Oi'll commit to...until I'll lose my train of thought as Oi crack a fat at that sexy stewardess. Oi'll have loads of 'trouble puttin' on my airplane seatbelt.' Heh heh. Oh baby."
Still no one had noticed Sniper when he'd trudged out of that crowd of screaming mercenaries.
Moral; don't lend Scout hats.