Fem HeavyMedic I guess

by PixieStyxie5

Summary:

Svetlana was always relatively quiet. Despite a long, troubled, counterrevolutionary past in the Dhugzhdur mountains, she was still a competent mercenary and knew how to shoot someone into a bloody pulp. But would this façade of indifference hold up when she crosses paths with her team’s Medic, a crazed, manic and morally dubious German who has likely lost her medical license?

Notes:

This is basically my own weird interpretation of what female Heavy/Medic may look like :)
If u have any suggestions, feel free to leave a comment! ^_^

Chapter 1: New beginnings

Svetlana Orlonkova was always indifferent.
When she left home? Indifferent. When she joined the RED team? Indifferent. When she met a crazed, dour and somewhat questionable German woman who would likely steal her very soul at a moment’s notice?…
She was working on that. What mattered is that she *showed* indifference, right?
…Right?
Ah well. At least she had her teammates… strange, but oddly amicable women if you got to know them.
There was Spy, a snooty, upperclass and cultured French woman who smoked as heavily as she seduced, Scout, an excitable, obnoxious and hyperactive Bostonian street runner who seemed indefinitely hopped up on sugar, Engineer, an amicable, motherly and jovial Texan who loved her machines as much as she loved barbecue, Pyro, a delusional, enthusiastic and mute pyromaniac of unknown origin who had the tendency to melt the enemy (and her own) team like sticks of wax, Demo, a bombastic, unpredictable and alcoholic Scottish woman who had a temperament as volatile as her explosives, Soldier, a jingoistic, militant American patriot who had the tendency to shoot rockets at anyone who dared move an inch out of line, Sniper, a sardonic, witty and morose Australian woman who had as much Jarate as she did witty remarks…
And Medic, a crazed, curt, and clipped German woman whose morals were as dubious as her medical qualifications.
She was… eerie, to say the least. Her imposing, firm and stately demeanour was enough to make even the most cocky of mercs think twice. In fact, even the Scout was oddly quiet and nervous around her.
“Oh, that old kraut? She gives me the heebie-jeebies. Don’t want her rummagin’ around in my beautiful chest, thank ya very much.” The Scout sneered one night at the dinner table, when asked by Heavy on her opinion of the Medic.

It was a rather crude description of the true nature of Medic, but a fitting one nonetheless.
But dear god, the woman was terrifying.
Exiled from her hometown of Stuttgart for accusations of witchcraft, she took to mercenary work and back-alley surgery to make ends meet. Despite her stiff, stern and unwavering demeanour, she had an oddly soft side to her that only a few saw…
Heavy was one of those lucky few.
One night, they decided to play chess for a while to make use of their post-mission free time. After the match, they talked about various things, such as origins, qualifications…
And strangely enough, love.
“Ach, I do not care for men, Frau Heavy. They are mostly incompetent fools who strut around, showing off like verdammt peacocks. It sickens me to mein very core.” Medic sighed, her Teutonic tones harsh yet breathy, almost akin to an oboe.

Svetlana nodded, adjusting her gloved hand. The leather stuck to her sweaty palms, accentuating her fluttery feelings for the shorter woman.
“Da. They are… mediocre.” She replied simply, not wanting to give away her feelings on the matter of love.
Medic nodded thoughtfully, her steely, hawkish gaze piercing Heavy’s very soul. She adjusted her wiry spectacles, her unblinking titanium-grey orbs magnified somewhat by the bottle-thick lenses.

Svetlana swallowed the lump in her throat, and looked over at the clock for an excuse.
“Is late, Doktor. I go to bed now, yes?” The larger woman stated in her usual blunt manner, feigning nonchalance. Her pulse was racing like the beating of a drum, something which Medic picked up on almost immediately.
The Teuton raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, Heavy thought that she would reprimand her for lying..
Her fears were unfounded, however, as the shorter woman merely let out an uncharacteristically soft titter, her voice slightly higher-pitched as it usually was when she was laughing.
Svetlana found her laugh to be beautiful… to be honest, she found everything about that woman beautiful. The way her thick, dark hair fell over her narrow yet firm shoulders in the shower, the way her steely eyes glinted under her wireframe glasses, the little noises of triumph or exasperation she’d make during battle…

Svetlana could have sworn she loved her.

Chapter 2: Insomnia

Summary:

Svetlana can’t sleep, and her mind starts to wander.
(yes Meet the Medic is referenced way too much in this chapter, I regret nothing)

Svetlana tossed and turned, grunting as she tried to rest.

She groaned, her large, firm hands gripping her aching head with exasperation. The Russian was exhausted, and all she wanted was sleep…

But sleep didn’t want her.

Her mind was flitting from topic to topic, trying to settle her frayed nerves with whatever she could muster. Her family, friends, teammates…

…The Medic.

Medic’s hair, the way she would hold animal organs like precious gemstones, her genuine laughter… not the evil, cruel cackling on the battlefield, although that was fine too.

The type of laughter that only surfaced during genuine, tender moments between them, like the time where she was rummaging through Heavy’s chest and trying to give her an über-heart.

“And when the patient woke up, his skeleton was missing, and the doctor was never heard from again!” The terse Teuton had managed to say through bouts of laughter.

Heavy herself had managed a laugh, her large hand slapping the nearby table to keep herself from losing balance on the comically small repurposed dentist’s chair.

Medic had grinned at Heavy’s reaction, but it wasn’t an evil grin. It was a genuine smile of happiness, her unnervingly pearly-white teeth glinting in the light, just as well-kept and sterile as the medbay around her.

”…Anyway.” She continued, adjusting her glasses. “That’s how I lost my medical license.”

Heavy paused, mildly concerned. No medical license… and here she was, rummaging through her chest without a care in the world.

That was something that she found… almost endearing about the German. The way she was so unflappably sure of herself… at least outwardly. Even though she’d known Medic for the better part of three years now, Heavy could never fathom the inner workings of her mind.

A pHd in Russian Literature may be useful, but it couldn’t fill the void in her heart, nor could it numb the dull, bitter ache of self-hatred that had festered in her soul for as long as she could remember.

With the harsh notion that she may never be seen as anything more than a bumbling Russian fool, Svetlana finally drifted off to sleep, her usual thoughts coming back to plague her once more.

Notes:

I’m back! I still have a ton of stuff to do (both with fanfiction and other things) but I have more time than I did before :D