Pairing: none
Disclaimer: I do not own TF2 or any of the characters/world therein.
Cry
A lone figure sat in the RED Engineer's workshop at Tuefort. Clad in all black, the figure was little more than a large silhouette in the center of the darkened workshop. There was no one else in the room with the figure. No one else needed to be there for that moment. No one would risk it. It was a delicate moment and there would have been comforting if they were women, but they were all men and could only offer solitude and uninterrupted time as consolation. Anything else wouldn't have been appreciated.
The last battle had held a series of unfortunate events that had, ultimately, lead to the death of a team mate. The kind of that couldn't be fixed with respawn. Respawn didn't work on Sasha. Her last hope had been the Engineer, but even he was unable to fix her. He just didn't have the parts that a delicate woman such as herself needed to function. Reliable Excavation Demolition would have to send a new gun for their Heavy to use, but he did not want a new gun. He wanted his gun. His Sasha.
She had been with him for so long, through so much. The memories of their times together flooded through the Russian man's mind and he could not stop the fine trembling of his large body. She would be missed. The last time he had experienced a loss like this was the death of his father. His mother and sisters were still alive and well. The rest of his team were protected from such things by the respawn system. But Sasha... she was not protected. She was gone. Forever. They would try to replace her, but it would not be the same.
"Oh, Sasha," he murmured, "You work with me for so long time. We kill together. We laugh together. We make itty bitty baby men cry together." He shook his head, running his hands over his scalp despite his lack of hair, "You were good girl, Sasha. So good. I am sorry. So sorry, Sasha." The trembling was getting worse. "I am sorry I never got you better bed. You deserved better."
He had been holding the water back. He had been trying so hard to stay strong for his Sasha. He never wanted her to see him so weak. Still. The first little droplet fell, landing and making an incriminating wet stain on the table he was hunched over. The one that held his poor Sasha. The first drop was fallowed by another. And another. They flowed with increasing frequency and fell upon the table like rain upon the battlefield, making little thuds like bodies hitting the ground after being torn asunder by $200 bullets fired from his beloved gun. "I am sorry, Sasha. So sorry."
Outside the room, the Medic and the Engineer stood. Both were concerned with their team mate, but neither could go in and comfort him. The Heavy was a proud man. He would not have allowed anyone on the team to see him so weak. Rooted to their spots outside the door, the two could only watch helplessly as their friend and team mate mourned the loss of his gun. Neither would dare tell the others that, on that abnormally cold night, surrounded by shadows, the Heavy mourned the loss of his faithful companion with tears.