Chapter Text
Crack!
Scout's bat successfully connected with the BLU Medic's head, sending him plummeting off of the point and to the ground. Before the Soldier he'd been healing could do anything, Scout quickly reached for his scattergun and blasted him right in the face. The Soldier was down before he could even scream, his helmet barely covering the bloody mess of flesh and bone that was now his face.
With point C now clear of BLUs, Scout was able to start capturing it. He just had to stand there a little longer, and…
DING!
“We have captured the control point!”
“Yes!” Scout cheered, pumping his fist into the air. He kicked at the BLU Soldier's unmoving corpse. “In your face, dumbass!”
He heard noises coming from the tunnel leading to point D, so he sprinted off of the point and quickly hid behind one of the many cliff faces that Badlands had to offer. He glanced around. No one was in sight, not even his own team. This was preferable, but Scout was a little disappointed. He'd been on a major winning streak these past couple battles and was hoping someone would at least be there to witness him. He had been supremely proud of that Medic and Soldier kill, too, but alas - everyone else must be dealing with the rest of BLU.
Oh well, they just won't be able to see me win this thing. Scout thought. Sucks for them!
He peeked out from behind the rock. The coast was still clear. No one had come in or out of the point tunnel. The only sound was the distant cacophony of explosions and gunfire coming from somewhere else on the battlegrounds.
He looked towards tunnel D again. Scout eyed it carefully, biting the inside of his mouth as he thought. He could wait for the rest of the team - or at least a few of the others - to come to him. They could do a group push, wiping out whatever the BLUs inevitably had to throw at them. It would be the safest option.
But on the other hand, time was ticking. They only had so long to win this match before the Administrator would call it a stalemate. So far, Scout had started capture on every single point and had captured this one all by himself. He'd been doing great today, he was practically a one man show. Did he really need his team with him to cap the second-to-last point?
After about a minute of thinking, Scout decided “fuck it” and left his hiding place. He sprinted through the clearing and towards the path, scattergun at the ready just in case. He hadn't needed the team so far - why would that change now? Besides, he was Scout. He was freakin' awesome.
He ran between all the structures and rock faces until he was almost at the path. The cool wind whipped against his face, a pleasant relief from the hot desert sun hanging over the battlefield like a giant heat lamp. If these weren't battlegrounds, he'd love to run laps here sometime.
He hadn't been shot at or attacked yet. A good thing, but definitely suspicious. Curiosity got the better of him and he decided to glance over his shoulder for a moment to check for enemies. But a moment was all it took - Scout was so busy looking around the area that he didn't notice the small slope in the ground.
His eyes may have missed it, but his feet sure didn't.
As Scout's right foot connected with the ground, it slid into the slope, causing it to roll suddenly and awkwardly to the side. This sent a violent flash of pain throughout his whole leg and he immediately tried to stop. His momentum was too quick, however, and with a startled scream, he slipped and fell face-first into the dirt.
His body hit the ground with a loud thwack. He felt himself slide forward a little, disturbing dirt and dust and making his skin burn thanks to the sun baking the ground. His scattergun bounced out of his arms and skidded along the ground until it was several feet away, now completely out of his reach. His headset seemed to have the same idea as it had been knocked off of his head and now lay some distance from where he'd landed. He laid there for a moment, trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him.
“Gh…” Scout groaned. “Ow…”
He rolled over to his back with a grimace. A quick once-over with his eyes showed no blood or open wounds anywhere. The worst he'd probably get from that fall was a nasty bruise on his side or some shit. His whole body stung from the initial impact, but the pain was already beginning to fade.
His ankle, meanwhile? It was in agony. Even the most minute twitch sent shockwaves of pain across his foot and he hissed through his teeth. Scout didn't know what he did, but he knew he was a sitting duck laying on the ground like this. He attempted to stand, but the moment he applied pressure to his right foot it was like his muscles had been lit on fire. He gasped loudly and let out an involuntary yelp before collapsing to the ground once again.
Fuck.
Scout shifted so that he was sitting up as best he could. He glanced around to make sure no one was there before using his hands and good foot to push himself towards the nearest rock formation. One there, he leaned his back against it, allowing his legs to sprawl out in front of him. He glanced over at where his scattergun landed, briefly considering maneuvering over to it just in case, but another throb from his ankle forced him to redirect his attention. He slowly began bringing his injured foot closer to his body so he could investigate, but that action alone made it feel like someone was pulling and tearing at the muscle inside. It made tears want to fall from his eyes - fuck, what happened to it?
Once he got it within touching distance, Scout attempted to roll down his sock to investigate. His skin felt extra tender and sensitive. Just his fingers lightly pressing against his ankle was enough for the throbbing sensation to return and he cringed. He managed to roll his sock almost all the way down before he'd have to take off his shoe (which he knew he couldn't do, it would hurt too freakin' bad!). He couldn't see much, but he could see that his ankle was slowly turning red, a bruise already forming where he'd rolled it.
“Okay… okay, no big deal…” Scout muttered to himself, tearing his eyes away from his foot to look at the sky. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, but he brushed that off as his adrenaline still kicking. He was fine. He'd had injuries way worse than this. All he had to do was find a medkit or call for Medic and he'd be good as new.
He glanced at his surroundings. No medkits seemed to be in the immediate area. He looked at his headset that lay several feet away. It had rolled a considerable distance from where he was at, but he could probably get to it. All he had to do was walk over to it, call for the Doc, and this would all be fine.
He once again tried to stand up, but was met with the same venomous sting of agony that insisted on keeping him grounded. Okay, he definitely wasn't walking like this.
If I can't walk, how am I supposed to run? Scout thought. I'm screwed if I can't run!
He looked down at his ankle once again. Part of him hoped that if he stared at it long enough, it would magically fix itself and he'd go back to doing what he does best - running circles around the enemy until they get sick of him. But after a small twitch of his foot sent more burning pain throughout itself, he was brought back to the harsh reality.
He couldn't run.
Even when not injured, the thought of being unable to move at all (let alone move fast) irked him. It was just how he was, he needed to always be moving or doing something. If he wasn't constantly in motion, he felt wrong. Like the mere act of staying still would end him.
But he didn't have a choice now. So long as his leg was hurting like his, he wouldn't be going anywhere. He still didn't know what the hell he'd done to his ankle - did he break it? Had he pulled a muscle?
What if it was permanent?
He'd heard rumors throughout the base that before Engie got that robot arm, he'd been having wrist pains; something about straining or over-extortion or whatever. But it was pain that Doc couldn't fix with the medigun. It had been the prime reason he'd sawed his arm off - why he'd resorted to that, of all things? Scout didn't know. But if permanent damage like that could happen to Engie, then who's to say it couldn't happen to him? He might have to deal with a shitty ankle for the rest of his life now. The thought alone seemed to take his breath away.
Fuck, how would he do his job then? His whole gimmick was speed. Running. Motion. If he couldn't do that, then what? What would he do? He'd have to quit being a mercenary. He wouldn't be able to send Ma half his earnings anymore, she'd be all stressed out over debt all over again. He'd have to say goodbye to the team, all the guys (and Pyro, whatever they were) who reminded him so much of his brothers back home. The guys who felt like a second family to him, thought he'd never admit it unless he was on his deathbed. Tears began to pinprick at his eyes.
Panic was now running rampant through Scout. Breathing had gone from hard to impossible in moments and even though he was still sitting on the ground, his heart was pounding like he had run a marathon. Scout curled his good leg up to himself so he was sitting in the fetal position, not even really thinking about his movements anymore. With trembling hands, he used them to cover and lower his head. He screwed his eyes shut.
I'm done. I'm finished. I can't run. I'm useless. His mind echoed. His whole body was shaking at this point as he practically gasped for air. Why was this happening? Why was he so fucking scared? God, his ankle hurt! There had to have been some kind of permanent damage done to it, he didn't think body parts that were just twisted or whatever were supposed to hurt this bad. He felt himself begin to sob between already harsh breaths, tears rolling down his face.
It's gotta be broken. What am I supposed to do now? I'll never play baseball again. I'll never get to run through the woods again. I'm getting fired. I have no purpose here or anywhere. I'm dead weight.
“…out?”
The others are gonna hate me. Look at me, just sitting here. I'm pathetic. I'm supposed to be out there fighting. I'm fucking useless. I'm not needed. I'll never be needed again.
“…err Scout? Hello?”
Somebody was talking to him, but Scout couldn't be bothered to see who. It was probably someone coming to look down on or make fun of him, anyway.
“Scheiße, er ist in Panik- Scout, breathe. Breathe.”
He felt somebody hastily stop in front of him. The same somebody place their hand on his knee and he flinched. He looked up, half-expecting to see someone from BLU. Instead, Medic - RED's Medic, his teammate - was before him, kneeling at eye-level and looking at him with what seemed to be genuine concern. His medigun had been set to the side and both his hands were on him now, the other gently grasping his shoulder.
“D-D-D-Doc, I-!” Scout tried to speak, but his own breaths and sobs were so intense that he could barely get a word out. He reminded himself of a toddler and suddenly felt extremely embarrassed that somebody had found him in this state. He turned his head away and shut his eyes.
“Shh, you need to calm yourself, Hase. Look at me.” Medic said gently. It was a tone he'd never heard Medic use with anyone before - soft and warm, kind of like how he talked to his doves sometimes.
Scout reluctantly opened his eyes and turned back. Once his face was exposed, Medic moved his hand away from his knee so he could gingerly cup his cheek.
“I want you to breathe with me. Like this.”
He inhaled deeply through his nose for about three seconds and exhaled from his mouth for four. Scout shook his head - his breathing was too erratic now, he didn't think he could slow down even if he tried.
“I-I-I c-can't-!” He sobbed.
“Yes you can.” Medic said. “Just follow my movements. Watch.”
He repeated the breathing technique again. Scout watched him carefully, as if he was showing him how to diffuse a bomb. Medic repeated the action again before Scout began trying to follow. His first attempt only lasted about two seconds and he felt shame burning in his chest as he let out another sob.
“It's alright, you're doing good.” Medic reassured him. “Don't become upset with yourself, just focus. Take your time.”
Scout nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. Medic breathed in, Scout attempted to breathe with him. Then they breathed out together.
In. Out.
In. Out.
In…
…Out.
They did it a couple more times before Scout was finally able to stop hyperventilating. Medic wiped some of his tears away with his thumb; he hadn't let go of him throughout the entire ordeal. They said nothing at first, Scout too busy catching his breath and Medic waiting for him to be calm again. After about one minute of silence, Scout finally spoke up.
“I…” He said, voice shaky. “I'm… real sorry ya had to deal with that, Doc.”
Medic shook his head. “Don't apologize. You have no reason to.”
He finally took his hands off of Scout and set them in his lap. “May I ask what happened?”
Scout sniffled. Now came the part he'd been dreading - telling Medic why he was crying like a little kid in the middle of an empty battlefield. Now that it was all over and done with, he felt stupid.
“I… I fucked up my ankle…”
Medic quirked an eyebrow. “Your ankle? How so?”
“I dunno, I just… was runnin' and fell. Hurts to move.”
“Which one?” Medic asked, already eyeing both of Scout's feet quizzically. Scout pointed to his right leg.
“May I take a look, bitte?”
Scout nodded. He was surprised that Medic hadn't said anything about him freaking out yet.
He slowly moved so that his ankle wasn't as close to his body, stretching the leg out slightly. Once done, Medic wrapped his hands around the appendage and he winced upon the contact. Scout hissed and groaned when he began pressing his fingers into his skin, lightly poking and prodding the muscle around it. He pulled his sock down further and studied the area, which had now turned into a much more visible shade of red with hues of purple slowly joining the mix.
“Hm… it looks like you sprained it quite badly.” He said. “But not to worry - the medigun will take care of this in no time!”
Scout perked his head up. “Wait, really? It's not like, broken or anything?”
“Nope, just twisted. Now hold still, this will only take a moment.”
Medic then picked up the medigun and aimed it at Scout's sprained ankle. Immediately, pleasant warmth began enveloping the limb and evaporating any and all pain that had been radiating from it before. After about six seconds, he switched the medigun off. All the bruising was gone and moving his foot no longer felt impossible.
Scout lifted his foot and twirled his ankle around. It felt good as new!
He sighed with relief, shifting into a more comfortable sitting position now that he could use both feet again. “Thanks a million, Doc. I appreciate it.”
“Of course, Scout.” Medic said. He set the medigun down again, not getting up from his spot on the ground. “You're all set to go back out to battle, if you would like. However, I would like to ask…”
He pushed his glasses into place. “Why did this distress you so? When I first saw you, I called your name three times. You didn't answer, you were so petrified.”
Scout sighed heavily. “I just… I dunno, it's stupid.”
Medic frowned. “Something that brings you that much grief is not stupid, Herr Scout. Do you not wish to elaborate?”
Scout shook his head. “Not really, no.”
“Alright. Then back to battle it is.”
Medic stood up at that, medigun in hand. Scout blinked, surprised. He stood too, happy that there was no stinging sensation in his foot this time but still very confused at Medic's behavior.
“Hold on - that's it? You're not gonna interrogate me on why I was bawlin' my eyes out like a baby?” He asked.
“Nein. If you don't want to talk about it, then you don't have to.” Medic said simply. “Now, let's leave this place. I think the others are starting to wonder where we are.”
Scout stood dumbfounded for a moment before realizing Medic had started walking off without him. He scrambled to grab his scattergun and headset before jogging to catch up with him.
“Hey, Doc!” Scout called. Medic turned to look at him expectantly.
“You're uh… you're not gonna tell anybody that you saw me like that, are ya?” Scout said nervously.
“Of course not. We may all be a team, but doctor-patient confidentiality is still in effect.” Medic said. He winked and smiled at Scout. “Now come, Kamerad - we have a battle to win!”
Scout smiled back. It felt good not having to explain himself or his emotions. Funny, though; he hadn't expected Medic of all people to have sympathy for him. Especially after all the times Scout had stolen med kits from him.
But hey - he wasn't gonna question a good thing. All that mattered was that he could run again.