Coo

Scout groaned.

Stupid bird.

What the freaking hell was Archimedes doing here? Archimedes wasn't allowed in the kitchen! Not after what happened last time…

"Scout?"

A voice suddenly broke through his sluggish thoughts, jolting him back to reality. He was lying on the hard tile of the kitchen floor, but he couldn't remember how he'd gotten there. The back of his head was wet with something, but for some reason he couldn't feel whatever wound he'd attained there.

No, his mind was more occupied with the splitting headache that wracked his head, preventing him from thinking clearly.

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and cracked open his eyes.

The world before him was a nauseating, unfocused mess of blues and greys that threatened to unbalance him. He felt himself start to fall, but someone put a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

"Scout?" The voice repeated. Scout instantly shut his eyes, in an effort to try and endure the pain. The speaker sighed and shook him gently. "Nein. Open your eyes. Now focus on me." He opened his eyes again. Before him, he could see the speaker, his brown eyes filled with a strange mixture of concern and irritation.

"Uh…Medic?" He finally said after several moments of silent blinking. "Dude…what happened?"

"Do you not remember?" He asked.

"Nah dude. Last thing I remember was us losin' that match. An' then…" He frowned, and then instantly regretted it, the action sending another bolt of pain though his mind. "Jesus, my head."

Medic sighed and unhooked his medigun from the side of his pack. For once, he'd been hoping that he

could just have lunch without some dummkopf hurting himself, but alas, that never happened. Training the gun on the injured runner, he activated it.

Instantly, the pain ceased and the large wound on the back of Scout's head sealed, leaving nearly no trace of what had happened.

Scout got up and turned to the medic. Grinning, he gave the man a thumbs up. His head still felt a bit weird, but it didn't hurt now. And that was all that mattered, right?

Medic shrugged and turned to the fridge to get some lunch.

"Hiya Engie!"

The hardhatted Texan looked up from his sentry to see the grinning form of Scout standing over him, a purple can of soda in his hands.

The engineer muttered a reply and looked back down at his work, ignoring the Scout as he hovered over him.

"Sooo... watcha workin' on hardhat?"

"Recalibrating mah sentry." He said, not looking up from his work.

Scout, having no idea what calibration was, just stared blankly at Engineer.

"So..." Scout said after several seconds of silence. "Didya see me last match? I was awesome!"

"Scout, ah think we lost that one. That certainly ain't a thing to be proud of."

"Well, that ain't my fault. That freaking Sniper was cheating!"

"Ah don't see how..."

"Ya don't? Pal, he freaking headshotted me! With that freaking bow! That's freaking impossible! No one, and I mean no one can headshot me! I'm so freaking fast and my head's so freaking small he can't hit it!"

"Ah don't think that's cheating son."

"Then how the freakin' hell-"

"Sniper's a good shot son. Ah thought you'd know that by now."

"He ain't that good a shot!" Scout protested. "He can't hit me!"

Engineer sighed. There wasn't really a point to this argument - they both knew that Scout would never back down.

"I mean, the first time could'a been a fluke, but then he freaking did it again! There is no freaking way that was a fluke!"

"Look-" He said, looking around the room for something to distract Scout. His eyes caught the blue suited figure of their Pyro on the other side of the room, a disassembled flamethrower in front of it. "Why doncha go over and talk to Pyro over there? Ah reckon he'd be a better audience than mah."

At the mention of the firebug's name, Scout's eyes widened in fear. He couldn't be serious. He couldn't be.

"You're kidding. You're kidding right?"

"Nope. Ah reckon he could use the company."

"But…but…that things a freakin' maniac!" Scout lowered his voice to a whisper. "I ain't talking to…to her. He's freaking insane. She'll set me on freaking fire and laugh about it!"

"Scout, ya have no idea what ya talkin' about. He's just as crazy as the rest of us. An' ah think that says somthin' about the sanity of tha team."

"But…" Scout whined, his fear not quite gone.

"Mmrph?" A voice behind scout asked.

Scout screamed.

Suddenly aware of the person behind him, he launched himself at the engineer, grabbing onto him like a small child. His face was an ashen white and his body trembled slightly from fear. He could feel the acidic bite of bile in his throat as a wave of nausea hit him suddenly.

Pyro sighed and gave what might've been a disapproving glare at the engineer.

"Hmrph mrrh mrph?"

"Ah'm sorry Py, but how else am ah gonna get rid of him?"

"Hrrmph…thmmph hmrph mmphm?"

"You ain't serious. That'd encourage him!"

There was more said, but Scout couldn't hear it. That strange feeling that'd taken over his mind before had evolved into full on nausea thanks to the fear that was currently drowning his mind. Someone picked him up, but his mind had already faded too deep into unconsciousness for him to notice.

The sharp smell of medicinal supplied, mingled with the sour smell of sauerkraut and the dusty smell of birds was what first brought scout to his senses.

His head was hurting again.

He groaned and rolled over to his side, finding himself on top of the white sheets of a bed. The wall to his left was made up of a pattern of off-white and blue tiles, covered with splatters of the faint, rust brown of old blood stains that had failed to be completely washed off.

He rolled over to his other side, observing the other side of the doctor's office he had found himself in.

To the very left, he could see an open bird cage with a couple of doves in them, their occupants cooing softly and preening their pristine white feathers. Beside it was a frighteningly realistic skeleton, a relic from Medic's past from back when he actually had a medical license - or rather, if his story was to be believed, the reason why he lost it in the first place.

On the other side of the room was an old, wooden bookcase full of texts - worn philosophy books with black covers and German titles and medical textbooks with their once colorful outsides now faded to pale yellows and greens. Next to it was a metal draw on wheels with an array of metal tools spread out on its surface, including the doctors (impressive) selection of bone saws, along with half a dozen sharp metal things that scout really didn't want to imagine the use of right now.

There was a window set just to the right of the center wall, its dusty panes open to reveal the orange desert landscape of New Mexico that surrounded their base. Beside it was a well-used desk, with papers scattered all around and on it, a rubbish bin full of paper and bird droppings hastily shoved underneath it. Several more books lay on the desk, each one open to a different page displaying some aspect of the human body. Pushed to the side was a large computer screen, its bulky form taking up a quarter of the desk, its screen black with slowly pulsing neon blue text.

And in the center of the desk's entropy, sitting on a simple steel chair with his lab coat and gloves slung over the back, was the tall, pale form of The Medic.

He was hunched over the desk, the bloodstained form of his bird Archimedes perched on his shoulder, apparently interested in whatever his master was doing. He had a fountain pen in his hand and was scratching away at something, his attention solely on his task. Beside him, a mounted photo stood, its contents too far away for scout to make any details out on. One of the many iterations of the medigun was hanging from the desk, its hose-like end dangling down from the edge. An empty jar sat right next to the man, empty but still somehow the source of the sour odor of the German's late lunch.

Scout sat up, fear slowly seeping into his mind. Who knew what that madman had done to him while he was out? And furthermore, how did he get here in the first place?

The dove on the Medic's shoulder gave a small coo and flew over to scout. It's once pristine white feathers were tipped with the dark brown of dried blood. Scout winced a little as the memory of when the doctor had 'accidentally' trapped the bird in him came back to him. He petted the dove, and it let out a pleased coo in response.

The doctor turned, his work interrupted by the call of his bird.

"Ah! Scout!" He said, getting up and smiled, something that only unnerved Scout even more. He walked over to the scout, pushing his glasses up his nose as he did so. "How are ve feeling today?"

"Oh Christ..." Scout swore. "You're smiling. You got that evil villain look again...you did something to me didn't ya? What did you do me ya nazi!?"

"Vhat? I assure you I did nothing. But," He leaned in closer to scout, his voice now a hiss. "If you call me that again, I cannot guarantee that I won't next time. verstehen?" Scout nodded, too scared to do otherwise.

"Good. Now, how do you feel?"

"My head hurts. And it feels weird. You did do something, didn't ya?

"Nein." Medic replied, annoyance clear in his voice. "I have not done anything to you. You have a concussion."

"A con-what?"

"A concussion. Caused by a heavy trauma to the head."

"What the freaking hell are ya talking about? I ain't gonna find another pigeon in my chest, am I?"

Medic groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Scout, Archimedes is a dove not a pigeon. There are no doves in you right now and I haff not done anything to you. You haff a concussion. You will need to be suspended from battle for the next two days so-"

"Two days!" Scout exclaimed, cutting the Medic off. "but…but that's like…" He shook his head, only to wince in pain as the movement hurt it. "I can't leave for that long! You guys need me! Are you ab-solut-ly freaking sure I need this? Can't ya just zap me with your medi…medi…heal gun thingy?"

"Scout, ze medigun does not work like that. This isn't a wound I can instantly heal, this needs time. Believe me Scout, if I could, I would. Do you think you are the only one having their pay docked this week?"

"What? Are ya telling me that I don't even get paid? Goddamn that freaking bitch!" He flopped back onto the bed.

"It is only two days Scout. You'll be back to fighting by Friday."

"But you guys need me! I mean, I'm the only decent attacker on the team! Soldier's a freaking idiot and all Pyro ever does it stand around babysitting Engie! You an' Heavy are too slow and I don't even know if Spy's on our freaking side!"

"Scout, you are not fighting. That. Is. Final."

"Aww, come on doc! y'know what the team's like the most - you know I'm right!"

"Nein!"

"Jesus, I thought you didn't care about what happened to me as long as you could do your sick experiments! Why do you care about me all of a freaking sudden!?"

Medic took of his glasses and rubbed his temples, reassuring himself that this was just a temporary effect of the concussion. To be entirely honest, he didn't like the idea of scout having two days off unsupervised in the base either. He would've preferred to send him back to Teufort, but they weren't due back for another week and he knew that The Administrator wouldn't allow anyone, injured or otherwise to leave early.

He sighed. They'd just all have to manage.

changelog - 21-5-16

+ Edited chapter 1 text

+ Added chapter 2