Death and Friendship
It was a Sunday.
Not that dates meant anything out here, the sun rose and set and the REDs sometimes fought the BLUs and sometimes they didn't. But as Soldier stared at the mildly pornographic calendar, the day jumped out at him.
His elderly mother would be at church about now. In one of her flowery Sunday dresses, probably with her woven hat on the pew beside her, where his father used to sit, before he died. He never said it to his wife, but he wasn't one deeply into the church scene, no doubt why his son never was either, really. But both went along every Sunday with her, none-the-less.
Soldier had stopped coming to the sun-bleached little building when he was fourteen, but his father never stopped for all those years until the heart attack.
Would he go with his mother if they won this war and went home?
Soldier stopped thinking about it when it occurred to him that associating his mother with this calendar wasn't something he wanted to happen.
Returning it to the nail sticking out of the supply closet's wall, Soldier stood and stretched, then hoisted up the sack of flour he'd come in for and carried it with little effort down the corridor to the kitchen.
"Where d'ya want it put, Engineer?"
"Just over there, where the spare stool was, thanks." Not turning from what he was concocting on the worktop, the technician gestured with a wooden spoon, flicking mix onto the tiled floor.
Soldier did so and turned to leave the room, not wanting to be asked to help with what looked suspiciously like baking. He collided with someone entering the kitchen as he exited, though.
"Wotchit, mate. You aren't meant to be running away from the cake an' crushing the likes of me in the process." Sniper stepped around Soldier, dusting off the small amount of flour brushed onto his jacket.
"Mornin', though. Cheers for not bothering to wake me."
"Morning. I did, though. You told me to 'shove off' if you'd recall."
"I don't." Sniper then addressed the Texan. "G'day techie. Is it a plain sponge or what?"
"I'm not making a cake, partner."
The Australian's face fell. "Then what the Hell is it? We finally have eggs and you aren't even makin' a bloody cake-."
"Partner, I won't be makin' you anything' if you don't geddout." From the tone of Engineer's voice, he'd been bothered by more than just Sniper this morning, and he was usually the laid-back member of the team, though always hardworking.
"Eh." Sniper stepped around Soldier again to leave.
"Sorry. Sniper- you do have something, I recall. The delivery lad had a letter for you, but he didn't know if it's important. Must've been missed from the last mail delivery, I reckon. Looks formal, though. I didn't know your last name wa-."
"Yeah, alright, thanks. It's in the pigeon hole, right? You comin', Tincan?"
oooooo
About twenty minutes later, Soldier was sat on an old tractor wheel out in the "yard" in front of the base; taking his time enjoying a stack of thick, golden pancakes. Beside him, Pyro sat mask-less, doing the same, as did Sniper, on the other side of the tire. The rest of the team were scattered about the area in small groups, all savouring Engineer's cooking under the morning sun.
"We only have these for dessert back home." Sniper offered the info out of the blue.
"Yrrmff mfff fhll."
"Wait until you've swallowed before talking, Pyro."
"Speaking of home, time I opened the letter…Looks pretty bland, but who knows, right? Maybe my sister got a typewriter and couldn't wait 'till mail day to tell me or something."
Soldier continued with his pancakes to the sound of the paper envelope being torn open and for a few seconds, just the scrape of Pyro's knife and fork. Then a clatter of Sniper's cutlery and plate being knocked to the dusty ground.
Everyone who heard it turned or looked up from their food to stare at Sniper, who was staring between his feet at his ruined pancakes, the letter and envelope fluttering away on the breeze.
"Christ. Christ."
Soldier could tell something was seriously wrong with his friend. Putting aside his own plate, he rose and moved around the wheel to face Sniper, aware that every other RED was watching.
"Maggot? Sniper?"
Sniper shifted away from Soldier and rose to his feet.
"My cousin died. We rode bikes- I told you about it at the other base. The farm…Christ, what the Hell is that about? What…Just a letter? 'Oh, your best mate is dead. Funeral is next week, have fun getting there in time.'"
Sniper was staring right at Soldier, but the Kansan didn't know what to say or do.
"You…I don't think they prioritised your sister's letter…I don't think she knows they sent this, hers will be here…don't…worry?"
"Yeah, alright, Soldier, Ok. I'm going t-to-."
Pyro was one the other side of the Australian now, he tried what Soldier himself couldn't really do, though Sniper refused the embrace, suddenly becoming so uncharacteristically angry.
"Piss off. The Hell do you lot know? I'm off."
Sniper walked briskly away, in the general direction of the gravel pit, the focus of every RED on the yard, who had all realised what must have happened. Soldier was still new to being close to anyone outside of family and didn't know how to help. He decided to start after Sniper, but Spy stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. The Frenchman had walked over with the rest of the team behind him, who were murmuring amongst themselves.
"Someone died, didn't they? Soldier, I don't believe he wants to talk right now, he might be better alone for a while."
The American nodded "Yeah, I'm not made for helpin'…I don't know what I'd say that could help anyway."
Spy drew himself a cigarette, then offered the packet to Soldier, who pocketed one, but declined the lighter. "I'm sure Sniper will be grateful for anything you say; you are his friend, no? Tell him one of your American stories later; he keeps trying to tell them to us, he seems warm to them."
"Yeah…Maybe." Spy and Pyro beside him, Soldier turned to face the rest of the team, who all stopped to listen respectfully. He sighed and addressed them all. "Hey, I'm sure you all figured, but someone close to Sniper died and he-he ain't takin' it well. So uh, you know; be nice and that…"
Scout tried to be helpful, "Man, that sucks. Should we make a card or something? Like, with all our signatures in it? I know it's lame, but those things are nice to get."
"Uh, sure. Scout, can you catch his letter too? I think he might want to keep it."
"Ya, sure thing." Within a second or two Scout's running shoes were kicking up a small dust cloud behind him as he shot off across the yard.
Soldier looked to the rest of the REDs, who looked back until Engineer patted Medic on the back and asked him to help with cleaning up, encouraging everyone to return to their food.
Soldier nodded a quick thanks to the technician, picked up his and Sniper's plates and pancakes, then headed to the kitchen, no longer in the mood to enjoy them.
oooooo
Soldier hadn't planned on doing anything specific that day, but he had always subconsciously assumed that Sniper would be there, not doing anything either. Thinking about it, he realised that he did little without Sniper nearby, even mundane things like chores such as site maintenance; and now the Australian wasn't here to do those with.
Soldier felt ridiculous. His friend had been gone for just over half an hour and he was already feeling a loss. Lonely? Had he ever even felt this before? Men don't feel lonely and miss their friends, especially those fighting wars. Soldiers.
Back in Kansas and time, Soldier's father had been the leading influence in his childhood. He taught his son how a man should be and how his actions will be what he would be remembered by. There was nothing in there about making friends and all of this.
But Soldier missed his father. He had for years and wouldn't stop doing so.
Sniper wasn't the same person, but so what?
Maybe it was time he made up his own mind about how-
"A penny for your thoughts, ami?"
Soldier was jolted back to the base break room by Spy's voice. He half turned on his seat at the old wooden table in the centre to look at his well dressed team mate.
"What?"
"Ah, it is a phrase I picked up in Britain a long time ago. You seem lost in a daydream."
"It's not quite a dream, Frenchie. I'm just tryin' to figure some things out."
Spy sat down beside him, noting the folded piece of paper in front of the Kansan, "Can I dare to guess? It is about our gangly and absent fellow RED?"
"He'd knock that mask off ya if he heard you call him that."
"He calls me worse. " Spy smirked to himself.
"Spy? Do- you see me- I'm a Soldier, right? And everyone knows it. I can take out any BLU and they goddamn know so."
The Frenchman seemed to analyse Soldier for a moment, making him feel awkward, but he responded soon enough, "I think…I see. Indeed you are and can, Soldier. I am not aware of you trying, but I believe you could even beat our Demoman at the whiskey if you attempted. Do not think that having someone you are fond of makes you appear less of a homme- a man."
"I-"
"Sniper relies on you as his friend, and that is fine. It is the same the other way around. Look at us, we are a team and could not operate any other way."
Spy didn't seem to have more to say, so both men sat quietly for a short time, until Soldier spoke up, still
"You always got the right take on the situation, don't you?"
"I should hope so, too." Pushing his seat away from the table, Spy rose from his seat and placed a gloved hand on Soldier's shoulder. "I am sorting some of the Intelligence in the offices if you would like to help. Or Demoman could use some strength fixing that metal fence. We all appreciate your company, ami."
"…Thanks, Spy. You ain't as bad as Sniper makes out."
Spy smiled from behind his balaclava and left the room.
oooooo
Thanks to Spy's words, the rest of Soldier's day was spent attempting to get on with other members of the team. He decided to help Demoman with the fence as suggested, though it was slightly awkward making conversation until Heavy also showed up to lend a hand. He seemed to understand Soldier's position and included him in the jokes and banter with the Scot, and by the end of the afternoon, the three men were openly laughing together and the uneasy atmosphere was gone.
It was almost dark, so the REDs finished their various outdoor activities and began moving indoors for the evening. Demoman invited Soldier to a planned poker game with a few others, but the folded square of paper in his pocket reminded him that Sniper wasn't back yet, so he declined.
"We'll save a place at the table for both of ya, mate!" Demoman's words followed him down the hallway to their bedroom where Sniper could have returned to without telling anyone.
Both pairs of bunk beds were empty, however, and even checking the rest of the rooms proved useless. Medic's office was at the end of the corridor, two doors away, but a knock on the door and brief glance around the immaculately clean room revealed that Sniper was absent there too. Pulling the door to and turning to try the break room and kitchen; for the second time that day, Soldier bumped into another team member.
Medic squawked as the files he had been carrying seemed to explode in every direction, but Soldier reacted quickly enough to stop the majority from hitting the ground. Medic raised his eyebrows and knelt to pick up the sheets that escaped.
"Sorry, Doc. I was, uh-"
"Looking for Sniper."
"Yeah."
"In my office."
"I didn't touch anythin'!"
Medic stood and smiled at Soldier, not looking anywhere near as annoyed as the American had expected, though Medic was blessed with the quality of being eternally enduring.
"You would not find him in there unless I had heavily drugged him first, Soldier. Have you tried the roof?"
"Before I came in. I guess he could be on another building 'cause no-one would bother him up high, but it's dark out and I thought he'd be back by now." An unwanted thought somewhere in the back of his mind had been bothering Soldier, but he didn't want to tell it to the doctor, though the German, along with Spy, often had the most helpful and reassuring advice.
"He'll probably return sometime this night, having cleared his head. Just be there to remind him that life shouldn't stop for those who are living too. And you should try to cheer up yourself, mister American. You are worrying a lot and it's showing from what I can see under that helmet of yours."
"That's something' coming from you, Doc, not even my mother nagged me about rusty metal as much as you did today." Being humorous helped shove back the thought.
"It was not nagging- it is common sense to know swinging about jagged linked fence is foolish!" Medic rapidly fell back into the over-protective mode he had hidden a hair's breadth away. "Heavy would never live with himself if he took out Demoman's other eye- and he lost the first playing with those bombs of his, probably-"
"Heh. Doc, you're doin' it again."
Medic blinked at Soldier and exhaled, shifting the now-disorganised papers in his arms.
"Ok, Soldier. I'll come and watch your poker game in a little while."
"Ah, I'm not playing, I'll see you tomorrow."
"You are so silly, Soldier. Play the card game and get on with your team. If Sniper feels better and shows up, he won't feel bitter about you having other friends."
Soldier shook his head in amazement.
"First Spy and now you? I must be easy to work out, huh? First I feel like a fruit for realisin' I uh, care about another man- and Spy figured that out, an' now I have other folk who I could see as friends and it's you who gets that, Doc."
"A lot of my job is about knowing people."
"Yeah, but exactly what I'm kinda…bothered by. There's this image of the guy coming back and there I am jokin' about with Demoman and Heavy- like nothin's wrong." Soldier lowered his voice.
"Doc, I think there were times when I didn't even think about him out there by himself with a damn dead cousin and nobody trying to help him out."
Medic gave him another of his understanding smiles and stepped past towards his office, stopping outside the door and turning back to the Kansan.
"I just said: Sniper would never resent you getting on with the others. You can't feel the sense of loss he does, and he wouldn't want you to, either. Just as long as you understand and are there when he needs you."
Medic pushed open the office door and spoke over his shoulder.
"Now friend, I really must sort these files and Intelligence, I expect poor Spy has a headache from trying to make sense of it all day. You sort yourself out, alright?"
Soldier visited both the break room and kitchen, and even the pantry cupboard though it was to no avail. Ignoring the laughter echoing around the base from the largest room that served as the recreation and living area, he wandered down the remaining almost abandoned parts of the building, trying storage closets and the spare bathrooms, but returning Sniper-less after every one had been checked.
The Kansan had some time to think as he walked, and it was mostly about his father.