I had bad dreams that night.

"I see you and I just want to throw up. I can feel the bile in my throat every bloody time I make the mistake of looking your way. You just sit there, doing nothing, staring at the blank wall like some cabbage. You disgust me.

Oh, you're crying now? Stop that. I SAID STOP THAT. As if you don't look ugly enough with all those tubes coming out of you, you want to make it worse? I can't take one more second of your bickering, so you better shut the fuck up, or I'll shut you up myself. There, was that so hard? Oh wait, I forgot you're an idiot; everything is hard for you to do.

The surgeons tell me you might not make it. They say the heart's too weak; can't take all the meds they're pumping you with. God I wish they're right. What it must be like to be rid of you eh? But I don't believe them. Just my luck, you're one of the strong ones. No matter what happens, you never, bloody, die. Might just kill you myself one of these days… How bout now? You see that pipe? Yeh, that one right there; the green one. All I have to do it squeeze it and stop your oxygen flow. Just like this…"

"MAGGOTS!"

BAM, my head connected with the ceiling. A wave of pain immediately shot through the nerves in my scalp as I fought to make sense of my surroundings. BAM, followed by a "fucking hell" told me that the Scout too had woken up in a rush and rammed his head against the underside of my bed. I rubbed my already aching skull and blinked the tears away from my eyes. I wasn't sure if they were due to the recent maltreatment to my cranium, or as a result of the nightmare that was still clouding my thought processes. I decided it was some mixture of both and turned my focus instead on the huge burly figure standing in the doorway.

"FRONT AND CENTRE YOU LAZY GOOD FOR NOTHINGS."

"Holy…Did you just KICK DOWN MY DOOR?" the Scout yelled at the man in shock. He had tried getting out of bed, only to trip on a rouge baseball bat and fall face-down on the clattered floor. He had his left arm hooked around one of the rungs on the ladder now and was trying to pull himself back up. It would have been funny if I knew what on earth was going on.

"Watch how you talk to me son!" the man said in a stern, military sort of tone. "And get your sorry behind off the ground boy, you're embarrassing yourself in front of the lady." It was a wonder he could even tell I was there at all. His helmet was so far down over his eyes I could barely believe he could see the Scout, much less me all the way up in the top bunk. But see me he did, because his next order was addressed directly at me. "Did you not hear me maggot?! Front and centre private!"

With that, I scrambled into action. I mentally thanked whatever god was watching over me that I'd decided to wear boxers the previous day, or I'd have been standing next to a ruffled, bare chested Scout in my underwear. The boxers, at least, could pass for shorts. It was only when I was directly before the man did I realise the full extent of his height. And back home, they used to say I was tall. All these men made me look like a pitiful dwarf in comparison. But this man in particular, was making me feel insignificant. I could practically feel the authority leaking from every pore in his body even as I stood in front of him with my hands crossed behind my back and my head bowed down to stare at his boot-clad feet.

"Name and rank private," the man bellowed in the same voice.

"Katie, Sir," I said, not even bothering to present my right hand to have it shaken as I'd been brought up to do, "Katie Davidson. I'm your new Aid."

"From now on you will get up at six am until I tell you otherwise little lady," he said without so much as moving his head to look at me. "Is that understood?"

"Yes sir, of course sir," I replied. I noticed my voice was a bit squeakier than before. It was probably because I was trying hard to contain the shock that came with hearing my new rising hour. Six in the morning? I didn't even get up that early for school.

"Very well maggots," the man said, oblivious to my change in voice. "Boy, make sure you are both dressed and downstairs by 0800 hours. Am I clear?"

"Sir yes sir," the Scout said with a bored yawn.

"Dismissed!" the man said as he marched out the door.

The Scout turned to look at me, his dog tags clinging together from the motion. "Ouch, six am, that sucks," he said with a wince.

"Who was that?" I asked, unwilling to discuss anything else before I knew who had just barged down our bedroom door at 7:35 in the morning. The door itself was still just lying there on the ground, probably crushing a couple dozen Bonk cans beneath its weight.

"That's just Solly," he said with a nonchalant shrug.

"Solly?" I asked.

"Yeh, as in, Soldier?" he explained, bending down beside the smashed-in door. "Holy crap, the fucker tore the thing right out by the hinges," he exclaimed.

"He wasn't there yesterday though, was he?" I strained my memory, but I doubted that even in my tired state I would forget someone like him. He was just the type of man that demanded to have his presence known.

"Nah, yesterday was his day off," he said as he tried to lift the door off the ground. "He was supposed to come back in later today, but probably couldn't keep away from the place any longer and clocked back in early. The guy's a freak like that," he explained. He had succeeded in resting the deceased door against the empty frame, just enough to obstruct their view should anyone pass by outside. "Well, that's all I can do," he said, staring at the pitiful excuse for a door.

"I'll try and fix it later," I offered.

"No rush," he joked while wading through the sea of junk to his closet. "Guess we should just get ready. He gets annoying when you don't do what he wants, so we just humour him most of the time." The Scout had his back to me as he pulled out a light blue shirt from one of the hangers. "I mean, he's alright, most of the time, but the guy can get on your nerves sometimes y'know?" While he spoke, I reached for my trousers and pulled them on before he could turn around. "There's only so much military crap a guy can take before he snaps." He turned around, fully clothed and pulling a baseball cap down over his undercut hair. "Ready to go?"

"Um."

"What's wrong?" he asked furrowing his brow.

"You said something about lending me a shirt last night?" I asked, pointing to my vest.

"Oh yeh!" he said, turning back round and pulling an identical shirt off the rack to match his own. "Here ya go sweetcheeks," he grinned as he handed me the shirt. "It probably won't fit well, but you can roll up the sleeves if they bother you or anything."

"Thank you," I said graciously as I took the clothing from his hand. I pulled it down over my head, and sure enough, I was practically swimming in the shirt. At least rolling up the sleeves made it somewhat better, even if they refused to stay put, but it would do in a pinch.

"Lookin good toots," the Scout said as soon as I was ready to go. He turned and moved the door out of the way so we could get out. "Blue looks good on ya, goes with your eyes."

I could almost swear that every red blood cell in my body had hitchhiked their way to my cheeks. My face was on fire as I followed him down the same corridor we'd come through the previous night. He only had to look back to see my interpretation of a tomato. I knew it had to disappear though, and fast, because I was starting to hear voices from a room up ahead. Judging by the heavenly smell of toast and coffee, we were heading to the cafeteria for breakfast. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I could feel the blush starting to fade as the hunger took its place. Just in time too.

"Mornin!" Engineer greeted us as soon as we walked in. He was carrying a tray piled with mountains of toast so high I was worried he would trip and send them flying across the room. But trip he did not, instead, he walked to the huge wooden table with ease and lay down the toast in front of six eager men. The Engineer had barely got his fingers out of the way before a jumble of hands reached out for the bread at once. Even though there was a lot to begin with, as soon as the clutter of hands cleared there were only a couple of slices left sitting at the bottom. And no wonder; the Heavy and Soldier had taken six pieces each all on their own and were already guzzling them down by the time I took a seat between Scout and Engie.

"Sweet," the former remarked as he snagged three pieces onto his own plate. "Hey where's Mumbles with the eggs?"

"Keep your pants on boy and eat your toast," the Engineer sighed. "And for the love of God, don't call him Mumbles; I've told you a thousand times and a thousand times you've ignored me."

Scout shrugged. "Why, s'not like he can understand me anyways," he said through a mouthful of toast. As he formed the words, a spray of crumbs came shooting out his overstuffed mouth. "Where's the Bonk?"

"In the fridge where it always is," the man replied. Not that the Scout was there to hear him; he was already halfway to the fridge before the sentence was done spilling from Engineer's mouth. "That boy's gonna drive you insane little lady," he said with a shake of the head.

"Oh, no, it's alright," I assured him. Sure, the Scout was …eccentric, but he didn't annoy me, not really. "May I have some toast?"

"Well there's a shocker," the Sniper remarked through his half-eaten slice. "Someone with manners for a change."

"What did you expect mate, the lassie's a Redcoat," the Demo laughed. I could smell the Scrumpy on his breath from here, and he was sitting on the opposite end of the table. He slapped the Australian on the back with a little too much strength and the skinnier man staggered a little.

"Aid is enemy Red?" the Heavy asked, a look of pure confusion decorating his pudgy face.

"Nein Herr Heavy, zat is just vat we call the British. Aid is from England," the Medic explained to the giant. Perhaps it was just me, but I could swear the doctor said it with a little hidden jibe.

"Holy crap, you're English?" Scout asked, only just returning with two cans in his hands.

"You're only getting this now?" I teased him, somewhat bemused. "What, the accent wasn't enough of a giveaway?"

"You didn't say much before hittin the hay last night, how was I s'post to know?" he pouted.

"You were the one yawning to go to bed, not me," I reminded him with a smile. From across the table, I saw the Sniper strike the table wood his fist.

"Damn it," he said, and the Engineer laughed. "Alright mate, you win this time," he muttered, pulling something out of his trousers and handing it to the man in overalls. When the object crossed my vision, I could see it was a crumpled five dollar bill. I looked sceptically at the Engineer, but he just chuckled and winked at me. The Scout was so focused on devouring his breakfast he missed the entire exchange altogether. Weird.

"Um, so may I have some toast?" I asked again.

"Of course darlin," the Engineer said, pushing the tray towards me. "There's coffee too if you want some."

"Oh, no that's alright," I said, taking one slice and putting it on the plate in front of me. I avoided eye contact with anyone on the table as I spoke. "This is going to sound a bit stereotypical, but I only drink tea in the morning."

"Tea is for the weak! Coffee is the beverage of men, private!" the Soldier bellowed, spraying an irritated Medic full of toast and saliva.

"I'm a girl…" I mumbled under my breath, so I doubt anyone heard me.

"Well I don't think we have any tea at the moment, but I'll have Pyro put it on the list of supplies to get," Engineer assured me.

"Thank you." Oh yes, I liked this man very much.

"What the fuck's holding him up anyway?" Scout yelled above the general chatter at the table. Just then, a deafening roar, like the sound of a blazing inferno, erupted from the kitchen. It was accompanied by loud, maniacal laughter.

"Ach, not again," the Medic groaned. He rubbed his temples with closed eyes. "Zat's the third time zis month."

"Dang nabit boy, I left you with the stove for five minutes," the Engineer yelled as he ran towards the kitchen upon hearing the noise. "I told you to cook the damn eggs, not start a bonfire!"

"There goes another stove," the Sniper remarked. "They're gonna stop replacing them if that mute menace keeps blowing them up."

"I'm going to assume 'Pyro' stands for 'Pyromaniac'," I said with wide eyes when another bout of muffled, high pitched laughter erupted from the kitchen.

"I think it originally ztood for 'Pyrotechnician'," the Medic explained. "But Pyromaniac iz a much better description." Go figure, I could hear Engineer wrestling with a fire extinguisher from my seat. It also sounded like he was simultaneously trying to pin someone to the ground, but I tried not to dwell on that too much.

"So no eggs, I take it."

It was a joke of course, I couldn't eat anything else even if I'd wanted to, but the Heavy still looked down at me all concerned. Before I even knew what was happening, he'd upturned the tray on my plate, dropping the six remaining pieces, crumbs and all, in front of me. "Leetle Aid must have toast. Tiny baby girl needs to eat to grow big and strong, like Heavy."

"Oh," I said in shock. "Thank you, but I ca-"

"Oh I think she's 'ad quite enough to eat." The voice came so suddenly and so unexpectedly that it sent cold, icy tremors down my spine the second the syllables reached my ears. I didn't have to turn to know that it was the Spy that was standing right behind me. I had recognized his voice; I didn't think it would be one I'd be forgetting any time soon. I knew he would have to come in at some point; I'd noticed he wasn't sitting at the table after all, but I didn't expect him to move like a damn cat. His sudden presence at my back unnerved me for far too many reasons. "I'm sure she would like a glass of water though, non?" He walked around me, and his eyes lit up with a dangerous spark. "I 'ear it 'elps to balance ze acid in ze stomach." No way. No, no, no… He can't know about that. Nobody can know about that. "Very important, or so I 'ave learned recently."

I gulped. Slowly, heavily, and painfully. The entire table had fallen mute. The only noise breaking the icy sheet of silence was the Pyro's laughter and the occasional cuss from Engineer. Apart from that, all the attention had suddenly fallen on the very obvious tension between me and Spy. I could feel all their eyes on me, making my efforts to keep my hands from shaking almost useless. I suddenly didn't know what to do with them anymore, my hands. I dropped what remained of my toast on top of the mess Heavy had made and hid them in my lap. I knew what he was doing, I just didn't know why.

I gathered all my courage. I knew that if I let him win this one, he'd win them all. God only knows how he found out about that. But I simply refused to let the masked Frenchman get the better of me. No, I decided, not today. "Why yes," I said to him in the steadiest voice I could manage. "Water would be lovely, monsieur." I stared at him long and hard, but the man did not flinch. If anything, his grin only seemed to widen.

He sighed theatrically. "Let it not be known zat I was not a gentlemen to ze ladies," he declared, walking towards the faucet with long, soundless strides. If looks could kill, I'd have burned a three-foot hole in the middle of his back as he filled a tall glass with water. Then again, if looks could affect the victim I'd have been crushed by the enormous weight of my teammates' gazes. The Scout tapped his knee against mine in silent questioning, but I shook my head without looking at him. "Later," I whispered to him. Later? What exactly was I going to tell him later? It's not like I could tell him about that.

"Here," the Spy sneered, shoving the full glass towards my face and nearly causing it to overspill on me. "Enjoy."

"Thank you," I said in a monotone voice.

"My pleasure," he growled. I was about to look away when he did the unexpected. He sat down in Engineer's empty seat. Next to me. Right next to me. I flinched, and reacted too quickly. I scooted to the far side of my seat, as far away from the man as possible. I was elbow to elbow with the scout, and the boy had noticed my discomfort. Hell, everyone had noticed my discomfort. It was as plain on my face as my nose was. Possibly even more. For all it was worth, the Spy seemed unfazed, and simply leaned back into his chair. Without speaking further he pulled out a cigarette and began to smoke.

The Medic cleared his throat, breaking the spell that had cast everyone into a silent reverie. "Perhaps ve should discuss ze Aid's training."

"Training?" I asked, happy for the distraction.

"Of course," the man replied. "Each team haz been given one week of ceasefire to train zer new Aid; One day for each class."

I did some quick calculations. "Aren't there nine of you?"

"Vell yes, but you won't be needing to train with Her Heavy and Pyro," The Medic said, nodding towards the large man. "Their jobs are simply too dangerous for you. And zey can manage on zer own."

"Aid is too tiny, smaller than Sasha. Not strong enough to carry heavy weapons," Heavy explained, using his hands to illustrate the size of his gun. Damn, that thing was big.

"Yes. Today you start with me. Tomorrow, with Soldier," Medic continued. As he listed the names, I realised some very unsettling fact. "Then Demo, Sniper, Engineer, Scout, and finally, Spy." The fact being that I would have to spend an entire day in the presence of the latter.

"Zis should be interesting," he commented in a volume so low I was sure nobody but myself could hear. I comforted myself with the fact that I had six full days before my time with the Spy. Perhaps his attitude would improve. Or maybe not, I thought, as I shot him a sideways glance. His eyes still glistened like light caught on the edge of a dagger. What I'd have given to wipe that look off his face.

"Alright," I said in response to the Medic. "So, six thirty each day?" I asked of the others.

"Six thirty?" the Sniper asked in shock. "No way mate, that's too bloody early. Don't knock on my door before nine."

"Aye lassie, why'd you want to get up so early?" the Demo asked me.

"Soldier told me," I admitted.

"Before each and every day of your training you will be subjected to two hours of intense exercise to prepare you for the field of battle young lady!" the Soldier barked. Should have seen that one coming, I thought. "I will turn you into a soldier even if it kills you." Well doesn't that sound lovely.

"Do try not to kill her, ve need her," the Medic sighed. He looked at me. "If you're quite finished vit your food, we vill begin today's training child."

I nodded and made to stand up. "You ave not touched your water," the Spy interrupted with a jab in his voice.

"Huh, seems like I didn't feel like water after all." The rest of the men around the table laughed as I one-upped the Spy. It would have been a glorious moment, if Scout wasn't such a good guy.

"Hey, wanna try my Bonk?" he asked, handing me the blue can. "It's real good." I looked at the labe. Blutonium Cherry; Now with 33% more real radiation, it read. I knew what would happen if I drank something like that. The results were none too pleasant, and I tried to avoid them as much as humanly possible. I was about to decline myself when the Spy went and put his foot in it.

"Mais oui Aid, why not try ze disgusting concoction? I am sure you will love it." It was a dare, there was no question about it. Even if I couldn't see his eyes, I knew they were glistening again. Bastard.

I swallowed my fear and held the rim of the can to my lips. Bottoms up. I was careful to only take a delicate mouthful of the liquid, but it would be enough to bring about the consequences. "Thank you," I said to the Scout, handing him back the drink. "Tastes sweet." Sweet was an understatement. The punch was like bubbly, liquid sugar. It wasn't all that bad, but I couldn't imagine how someone could stand to drink so much of it in so little time. A couple more sips for me and it would have become nauseating. But it didn't seem to have any effect on the Scout, who downed the rest of the can in a heartbeat as soon as it was back in his hands.

"No problem toots," he said with a wink.

"Come, now." The Medic startled me by suddenly appearing behind me and grabbing my arm in an angry grip. I didn't have time to hesitate or he'd have ripped my limb off. I had no choice but to follow him as he pulled me out of my seat and out into the hallway. I couldn't understand his sudden bout of temper. Was he really that eager to start my training that I couldn't afford a few seconds to have a sip? Whatever it was, it seemed to rub him the wrong way because he didn't let go of my arm as he dragged me through corridor after endless corridor. He didn't say anything either, so I shifted instead my focus on trying to remember our route. I gave up after the second intersection. But we must have been getting close, because the stink of antiseptic and bleach, as the Sniper had said, soon began to burn my nose. It only got stronger the deeper we went into the building, until finally I was pulled through a large door. The sign outside read "Medical Ward." The Doctor only let go of my arm once he'd locked the door behind him one-handed. I had to admit, I was rather creeped out by that point. When he heard the lock click, he turned to me, anger burning in his eyes.

"Vhy did you drink the Bonk Dumkopf?" Well, I wasn't expecting that.

"W-What?" I stammered, caught off guard by the question.

"The Bonk, child. Vhy did you drink it?" he repeated, his anger escalating with each word.

"I wanted to try it out." It was a weak excuse, but I had no idea why it would concern him in the first place. He, of course, saw through it immediately.

"Nein, do not lie," he growled, clenching his teeth. "I am your doctor girl, you cannot hide zis things from me. You cannot drink strong liquids, so vhy did you drink zat infernal death juice?" I stared at him open-mouthed. "Yes, yes, of course I know," he confirmed after seeing the look on my face. "I needed full access to your medical records if I am to heal you on ze battlefield," he explained, rubbing his temples.

He knows. That was the only thought rushing through my head at that moment. He knows, he knows, he knows. How could I have been so stupid to think nobody would find out? Of course the doctor would know, how could he not? Medical records were like an open book to the past, and I had more than a few pages in my novel. I'd lost count of how many times I'd been admitted to the hospital throughout the miserable course of my life. All I knew was that it was a lot. An awful lot. And some of them with varying levels of suspicious circumstances; bashed in baby teeth, broken legs, electrocution, strangulation bruises… Hydrogen Peroxide ingestion.

My stomach gave a jolt just then, and I felt my insides begin to ignite. The small sip of Bonk I had dared to swallow was doing its dirty work on my fragile digestive track. I knew, from more than one experience, that the pain would last for hours until dulling away to a soft throb. I whimpered when stakes of fire embedded themselves in the delicate flesh of my inner stomach. The man's eyes softened when he saw the pain on my face. He sighed heavily. "Wait here," he instructed as he walked away, shaking his head. He came back just a few seconds later, muttering in German before handing me a small, green tablet. "Swallow," he said, and I obeyed him after just a split second of hesitation in which the pain flared again.

It took a few seconds, and then, Bliss. The tablet blurred away all sensation in my stomach until the pain was just a faraway pulse. "Thank you," I said in awe of the medicine's strength, but the Doctor brushed it away.

"Listen child," he said, looking me in the eye. "I have spent the night reading through your files, and I learnt a thing or two about you. Einz, that you had a brush with Hydrogen Peroxide in the last year." He raised his eyebrow when I looked away in embarrassment. "Zwei, that you let your pride get the best of you at times." So they probably have access to my psychiatric records as well… The doctor grabbed my chin and made me look at him. "I do not care if you tried to kill yourself by drinking Bleach, but those tablets are expensive. If you let your pride get ze best of you next time, I will not help you. Clear?"

He thinks I tried to commit suicide by drinking Bleach. I almost laughed. I wasn't sure if it was better or worse than the actual alternative. Better, I decided, or easier to let him believe, at the very least. I saw no reason to correct him, and instead gave him a nod to answer his question. I even smiled. Suicide, my subconscious laughed, of all things. But hey, this was easier. I could live with him thinking I was some depressed, suicidal teenager. And the Spy too, if he so wished. I was almost certain that the masked man had found out about the peroxide, probably by breaking into my files. But it didn't matter. It was actually quite funny. He thought he knew something about my past. It was so amusing I was shaking slightly from the silent laughter. I hadn't even noticed the doctor walking away.

"Oh good, you're better," he remarked when he saw me smile. The smile disintegrated when I saw the thing in his hand. "If you vould be so kind as to pull up your sleeve." He held up the enormous syringe. "Zis will only hurt for a second."

Bullocks.