Chapter Text
For what it's worth, I like you
And what is worse I really do
Things have been worse
And we had fun fun fun
'Till I said 'I love you '
And for what is worth, I really do
“Men, here are the facts as I understand them. One - That was an amazing killing spree. Two – BY THE OTHER TEAM!!”
He had flung around so quickly, the group of eight men cringed simultaneously.
“You are the worst, the most terrible, most SORRY excuses for mercenaries I have ever goddamn SEEN! You call yourself soldiers? HAH! You make me LAUGH! I have seen more team spirit and action in a graveyard than out there!” The ill-fitted helmet swayed over his face as he charged forwards with his finger raised. His next victim of verbal assault was the Spy.
“You french, frog-brained slug-sucker are not MAN ENOUGH to fight in MY team! And you, you goddamn Robin Hood-wanna be hippie – you're supposed to SHOOT people! SHOOT! Not throw your piss at them and hope the stench of cowardice will make them go blind!”
Spy and Sniper sucked on their cigarettes, unimpressed. The American had figured out by now that trying to lure an expression out of them was hard, at least compared to the rest. He didn't dwell on trying today.
No, he was on a mission, a mission of yelling and griping at each and every one of his teammates, and throw as many insults his mind could come up with.
“If YOU would pull your ass outta your whisky bottle once and start doing your job maybe we WON'T LOSE NEXT TIME!”
That assault was directed to the Demoman, who instantly burst into tears, slurring broken sentences of sorrow into his hands, sobbing and whining like a tortured dog.
Disgusting.
Soldier scowled at the man and moved on. How he could ever become friends with such a kind, he wondered, remembering back to the days when his counterpart on the RED team used to be at his side, at least for a short time.
Still, one thing was clear as sunshine to him regarding that situation – the RED Demo was definitely not such a big crybaby like the Scot on his team, and whenever he killed the enemy, he would feel the sweet, sweet feeling of revenge, every smack of his shovel, every bullets piercing through their bodies, every rocket tearing them apart and launching their blood-soaked body parts over the battlefield...
Today, however, was not such a day, for BLU had lost once again.
And if you would have asked the Soldier about whose fault that was, he wouldn't hesitate to lift his finger and point them at his own crew. And only at his crew. He? No, he never made mistakes, he was American after all, the most glorious fighter America has ever seen – the fact that he had spent most of the time collecting ripped off heads from the battlefield instead of capturing ( 'leave that to the Boston boy' he had declared) was of course not conducing to their eventual failure.
He moved on.
“YOU two, you make me goddamn SICK!”
"Me?" Medic blinked.
"Me?" Heavy narrowed his eyes.
“Next time I see you two fruit baskets making out in respawn instead of capturing, I will shove my goddamn shovel up BOTH YOUR ASSES!”
The infantry-man and the doc shared a knowing look, and left it at that. In their eyes, they had been doing most of the work, and not such a bad one as well, and the leaderboard reflected that.
“AND YOU! You goddamn useless piece of crap!” he empathized the word “crap” with a kick in the boys guts.
“AUGH! OH, what the hell?!” Scout groaned, holding his stomach. Soldier's paw gripped the boy by the thatch of blonde hair and pulled him up on his eyesight. Soldier always found great joy in bullying the youngest member with unnecessary kicks, punches, or any kinds and ways of abuse.
“What is your purpose, boy ?” he growled.
“What the hell is your problem, you old fart---?”
“I ASK THE QUESTIONS, PUNK!”
Riding crop in hand, Soldier gave the kid a resounding smack against the cheek. An angry red mark began to glow on his face. “WHAT IS YOUR GODDAMN PURPOSE?!”
Scout whimpered and cringed away. Seeing that he could not squeeze an answer out of him, Soldier dropped him again. “Your purpose is to take your hand outta your boxers and CAPTURE THE POINTS! DID I STUTTER?”
The Bostonian sputtered something, but Soldier quickly moved on to the next. Soldier grasped the firebug by his collar and drew him closer.
“Hmph!?” Pyro yelped.
“YOU, smoky Joe, you better have a better reason than your goddamn frilly bra getting stuck in your overall for not SPYCHECKING!”
“Now now, Sal, Pyro had been a good aid for me. He caught more spies than we have --”
“DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO SPEAK, MAGGOT!?” Soldier hollered at the Engineer that had dared to interfere. “I don't think so! You wait in line for me to get to your sorry ass, or YOU'LL REGRET IT!”
Soldier let go of Pyro, who quickly backed away, smoothing down their suit with indignant, muffled grousing.
“YOU! You're a wuss!” he pointed at Scout. “YOU! You fight like a goddamn girl! AND YOU---”That was the moment the military man reached the last, and smallest mercenary. The engineer. Soldier had his finger extended, pointed at the mechanic, lips curled over his teeth in a snarl.
But his rampage found a final and abrupt end at the Texan, for he paused a little too long to indicate a dramatic pause. He softened, visibly, and neither knew if that was a good, or a bad sign.
Engineer's shoulders squared in anticipation of the following verbal assault the military man had prepared for him – but it never came. Engie crossed his arms then, pursing his lips.
“Yeah – and me? What'cha gotta say to me, boy?” he hissed back. Green eyes, hidden beneath toned glass, pierced through the metal over Soldier's face.
“YOU--You ...!”
And that was all.
After a moment or two, Soldier exhaled, air puffing out of his lungs. Engineer had pulled the plug. Like a de-powered robot, his rage puffed out of him like air from a balloon to leave him with a sour expression. The veteran placed his hands on his back, chest puffing out.
“You all. Dismissed. Medic may go and patch you all up now.” Soldier nodded towards his team. As if given the cue, the German grabbed the rim of his latex gloves and pulled them further down his elbow.
“Mit Vergnügen.”
Everyone groaned in relief. This charade had become a nearly daily routine, of either receiving the greatest of praises, or the sharpest of criticism. Everybody hated this part after the battle, listening to the endlessly long rampages and speeches the fanatic mercenary had prepared for them. Demo, bless his soul, suggested this post-battle meeting, as a diplomatic mediation between the Soldier and the others.
‘Keep up morale,’ he had said. ‘Taking suggestions to improve,’ he had said. ‘Establish some team spirit.’ He had said.
Today however, this ‘establishment of team-spirit’ came to an end much faster, thanks to whatever their little mechanic had done to stop him.
It was no secret to anybody anymore that, whatever reason Soldier had, he always went prominently easier on the engineer, no matter what it was. If it was simply out of courtesy for a fellow American or simply deep respect for the Texans disposition (and fists), no one could tell.
But courtesy was not a word in the registers of Soldier, and friendship was a state between those two that was practically impossible. More due to Soldier being a lone wolf, a hands-on man, and friends, he said, was something he didn't need.
And why would he? He had raccoons, and Shovel that keep him company.
Although the latter one wasn't all too ...agreeable.
The breath the engineer had held left his body with a puff, his posture relaxed. It looked like the rest of his powers would not be wasted on starting to argue with the Soldier. He turned to join the rest of the team to head back into the base, frustrated, sore and positively starving.
“Engineer!” Soldier then called in a sonorous voice. Engineer stopped, and stared over his shoulder.
“What is it now, Soldier...?” Looks like he still had to catch up reprimanding him, after all. Capital.
“I need a word with you. I expect to see you at my room, 1800 hour, after dinner.”
That was definitely not what the engineer had anticipated for an answer.
“May I ask what for?” Engineer squinted his eyes warily at the other. And waited for an explanation. But it didn't come.
Both just stared at each other for several moments with neither knowing if that was their sign to leave or not. “Sal, is there a particular reason ya wanna--?”
“Classified!” Soldier barked. “Dismissed!” And with that, he turned around, marching back to the domiciles.
Well, well – seems like the scolding would have to wait until a later hour. Such an honor, getting called to the Soldier's room to privately get his ass kicked. Engineer rubbed at his temples as he followed the rest, heading back towards the base.
Once inside in the privacy of his own workshop, he started examining the wounds and bruises he had received from today's battle. He patted down his arms, his midriff, then down his legs.
“Ouch,” he murmured and found the insistent itch that has been plaguing him ever since the cooldown time. A piece of shrapnel was imbedded snugly into the flesh of his hip. A dark red spot grew on the jeans of his overalls when he pulled it out.
No inch on his usually blue uniform was spared of the grime of battle- here and there were bloodstains, his or others, or dirt caked on his boots and hands.
Every muscle and every bone was sore from carrying a good 80 pounds of toolboxes over the field, or getting kicked, punched, stabbed, launched in bloody bits in the air, or being shot in the head. Two-fort had never been his favorite place. Everything was too narrowed, leaving nearly no place for actual combats that didn't comprise of getting to know the RED 'close and personally'. On which he really didn't insist.
Not when RED Spy was around.
And it was too bright, and even when it was raining, it was still warm and humid, and there was always a crack in the clouds where sun mercilessly burned down on his head and shoulders. Even through his shirt, he had sunburns. Not to mention, all the other bruises he received. Spies had so much more free room, so many more placed to stay tucked away and ambushing the poor Texan when his nose was buried in his blueprints.
He had thought about and tried many times to learn the construction plans he had made to know them by heart, just so his attention wouldn't be compromised by his own gadgets, but that was simply impossible.
There was always a thing he erased, added, adjusted and changed that there was simply no time to memorize it.
His hand wandered over his nape down into his shirt and gently scraped the fresh scar on shoulderblade. A deep cut, closed up quickly and unevenly by the respawn. That damn spy never missed the lungs, he thought, and scratched the crusted layer. Medic had often told him not to itch at his wounds while they healed, but it didn't matter – it left scars anyway.
With a deep sigh, he brushed off his shirt and undershirt, his socks and pants. Ugly, blue and green spots were spread all over his shins and arms, his ribs and back. Burn marks from Pyros, slashes of axes, wrenches and other nasty sharp-bladed tools – even his skin smelled of sour Jarate. Ugh.
Today, RED had taken much fun in bullying the BLU Engineer.
No wonder Soldier was angry - but there was just no reason to be cussed out like that. While he seemed quite busy collection heads, he wouldn't notice the constant assault on the engineer during the day. He built a sentry, it was shot down. He build a dispenser, it was shot down. Teleporter up, the next second, it was taken down.
At the end of the day, he was certain he was killed more often than he had successfully killed anything. Within mere twenty minutes, all three suitcases were gone. And he had to carry the can for it. Had Soldier actually helped him, he reasoned, instead of going on a solo killing-spree, it might've turned this day for the better.
But Soldierdidn't consider himself a team player, he wanted to be the team leader. He always killed on his own, died on his own, walked and traveled on his own. He never asked for help, he demanded it. This, plus his general erratic behavior, had soon alienated the man from the group, and while some came to accept and ignore his brusque nature, some simply kept their distance.
Engineer wondered if he was lonely.
Maybe he was, and was simply good at hiding it. There was never a time where Soldier seemed unhappy in solitude. Never had he felt the need to join poker-evenings with Sniper, Demo and Scout, never joined him, Pyro and Heavy at the campfire. Come to think of it, there had never been a social event he had ever seen the soldier participating in.
Not even in battle did Soldier like to team up with anybody. He wasn't like Pyro, helping the Engineer with keeping those pesky Spooks off his back. He wasn't like Medic, standing at the Heavy's side to fight. That was still a peculiar behavior from someone who always swore on team spirit in his unit. Soldier never had a friend, it seemed.
Besides the enemy Demoman. Engineer had tried to talk some sense into him, reasoning that the friendship they harbored was dangerous and foolish – not to mention the fact that Soldier was disregarding his principles of ‘team loyalty’.
Why wouldn't he befriend their own teams Demo? Or anybody else? Hell, Engie had even pondered about offering him a friendship with himself.
And while Engineer got dressed properly, readying himself for dinner, he also wondered what occasion the Soldier had found to call him to his room. It wasn't often that the Soldier wanted to talk to any of his teammates in private.
Engineer entered the mess hall and seated himself with a bowl of boring tasting stew next to Pyro and Scout. “Mind if I sit here?” he asked, and Pyro quickly scooted over to make place for his friend.
“...So then, I says to the guy, ‘Brotha, I hurt people,’ and then the chump turns and runs! Grabbed my gun, BOOM, head gone, clumps'a hair flyin' everywhere; most fuckin' hilarious thing I’ve ever seen.”
Scout munched on his bread while telling the same story he told everyone who listened, and then laughed so hard, chunks of food launched out of his mouth and everywhere on the table. Sniper shoved his bowl demonstratively away with a disgruntled growl.
“I'm tellin' ya, there's nuthin I've seen before that's funnier.” The boy had now turned to the Texan. “What'cha looking at, hardhat?”
“Boy, would'cha lookit that.” he pointed at the welt on the Scouts temple. “Looks like that soldier-boy beat'cha good.” –
“Puh! It's nuthin', really. Doesn’t even hurt---OW!!” the boy flinched as Pyro poked against the red, hot bruise on the Scout's face. “Dude, don't just touch it!”
“Ya oughta go and tell Medic, son.” Engineer traced the welt with his thumb.
“Ey, don't get all faggy on me!” Scout shoved the man's hand away angrily.
“Well If yer being like that? Hopes though this ain't leavin' a scar. Look at that, Sniper, ya think this gon' leave a scar?”
Sniper didn't even spare a glance at the boy, and continued to sup his meal while reading the newspaper.
“Ah. I getcha. Ya scared the doc's gonna find out about'cha lil'…a, performance problem, hm?” Engineer nodded towards the Bostonian’s pants.
Scout cringed so hard, the table clattered as his knees hit against it.
“Y-Yo, old fart, how abouts ya yell it a lil' louder, seems like the backrow didn't hear ya!” Scout hissed into Engineer's direction. Pyro cocked his head in interest. “Mhmph?”
Scout didn't like Engineer, and Engineer barely tolerated the kid. Nevertheless, the mechanic and Firebug seemed to be the only people Scout seemed comfortable around enough to let some…secrets slip.
Some secrets the Engineer really did not want to know about, actually.
“Look boy, I’m jus’ sayin, from one man to another – that ain’t normal.”
“S-Sure it is.” Scout’s face grew red. “I-It’s nuthin’. I’m just tense, okay?”
“A’right, a’right, I hear ya. Shucks, well, if ya dun' wanna see the do, then maybe Spy knows how to remedy that.”
“Spy?” Scout narrowed his eyes. Then widened them in understanding. “You- You wouldn’t dare.” He blanched.
“Gosh, and what if Miss Pauling finds out, wouldn’t that be a shame.”
“JEEZ, alright MOM!” Scout rolled his eyes over dramatically, rubbing at his face angrily. “UGH this sucks. Freakin’ psycho, hitting me like that! Man, who the hell does he think he is, that freakin', old bastard---”
“That is still SIR 'freaking old bastard' to YOU!”
The booming voice of the Soldier rumbled behind the boy. Scout snapped his head around like an owl before a large hand grabbed him and pushed his face into his bowl of stew.
Clangorous guffaw filled the hall at the sight of the Soldier sinking the boy's face into his meal and only releasing after Engie cast an angry glance at the man. Scout gasped, while broth dripped down his chin and onto his shirt.
”What tha hell?!” Scout blubbered.
Pyro gingerly fetched a towel and rubbed off the remains from Scouts face and shirt, while the young man squirmed and griped that he shouldn't treat him like a goddamn baby. “That friggin', old, goddamn, stupid, birdbrained---”
“I’ll have a good talk with him, later. I'mma gon' make sure he ain't be bullyin' ya again, kid.” Engineer patted Scout's shoulder.
“He doesn't bully me, jeez, only losers get bullied!”
“You’re a loser then, olroight.” Sniper commented dryly. He didn't even seem to acknowledge the misery of his teammate across the other side of the table.
“Oh yeah, ya better say that to mah face, tough guy!” Scout hollered over the table.
“Pff. Sorry mate. Oi would, but it's covered in vegetables.”
When dinner was done, Engineer mentally prepared himself for the ‘talk’ the Soldier had planned for the two of them. Instead of turning right towards his workshop, he took a left and entered the Merc’s domiciles.
Only the soft footfall of his boots were heard in the corridor, as if to remind him of his own hesitance. ´
Everyone had their own quarters, although some shared at times, and others barely ever used them. So far, Engie had not seen the inside of all of them, and maybe that was for the best. How would a Pyro decorate their sleeping quarters, he wondered.
Last door to the left, it was unmistakable. The poster hung lopsided, and the eagle in the picture had spread its wings wide and open, glaring down at Engineer with piercing yellow eyes. He inhaled, deeply. Then knocked.
“HALT!” boomed the voice from inside. “NAME AND MATTERS?”
“Dagnabbit, Sal!” Engie had dropped his hardhat, so much did the sudden change in volume in his ears startle him. “I can hear ya jus' fine, EVERYONE can hear ya jus fine. No need ta yell!”
That was enough of an answer for Soldier to open the door. The first thing the engineer was greeted with was a tight fitting white shirt stretched over a broad chest and as Engineer slowly tilted his head back, he saw Soldier's familiar scowl on his face.
“You are late, private!” he growled.
“Nope.” Engie shook his head. “Ah'm quite punctual, boy. Wouldn'cha look at the time, it's 6 pm, a'right---”
“IF I SAY YOU'RE LATE, THEN YOU GODDAMN ARE LATE!” Soldier grabbed the Engineer by his collar and pulled him inside his room, closing the door harshly behind them and, to Engineer's dread, locked the door.
“Well, what a warm welcome...” Engie muttered and situated his overall. Soldier's room was, to his surprise, better organized than his own. Where there would be large crates of scrap metal, scrambled paperwork and blueprints scattered, there were neatly folded towels, socks, and t-shirts, stacked and ready for use;
The desk that came with every room at the Twofort base would end up stacked with used coffee mugs and toolboxes In Engineers workshop. Not so here. Soldier had organized his into a tidy workspace, complete with lined paper, pencils, and pens (so tidy, in fact, that it looked like it had never been used, which was very likely). There was a clinical tidiness to everything, it reminded Engie more of a prison cell than a lived in space. Alone the American flag, hanging proudly over Soldier’s bed, served the purpose of decoration.
Engineer still clutched the hardhat in his hands as he turned around to watch the man moving past him towards the desk.
“So, ah...how ya doin', Sal?” the Texan asked. He wanted to start the conversation as casual and friendly as possible, being in Soldier's good books spared him god knows what kind of surprises.
“Ya recoverin' fine? I saw ya fightin' with that Demoman today, uh – he struck ya quite hard.” Engie's eyes moved down to the side of Soldier's body, where the splintered bottle had grazed him during their combat. Soldier replied with nothing more than an grunt.
There was no trace of any blood or injuries on the clean, white shirt the man wore, but there was no sign he had attended the medic either. Smalltalk, it seemed was not on the military man's mind. So the tinkerer decided to go down to business right away. “So, ah - is there a certain reason ya been callin' me here, Sal?”
Something in the way the man moved was intimidating. Everything about him was, in fact intimidating. Engie had always expected to know that man better than anybody else, but that theory seemed untrue.
“Look, err, if ya still mad at our team losin' t'day, ya ain't gonna have ta---”
“You are scum! You are a disgrace to the hardhat!”
“...Come again?” Engineer raised the eyebrows under the goggles.
“You heard me quite alright, civilian!” Soldier barked, and turned around, a familiar tool in his hand. “Engie, I have watched you over the few last days, and it is exactly what I feared – no. Even worse!”
“I'm not really followin’, Sal.” Engineer replied flatly. A mistake. For the instant slap of the riding crop across his arm made Engineer jerk in pain.
“Ow! Hey, what in the tarna---”
“I DO NOT ALLOW ANY FORM OF ADRESSING ME OTHER THAN 'SIR', IS THAT CLEAR?”
Engineer's jaw nearly dropped. Another hard swing of the crop against his other arm. “IS THAT CLEAR, I ASKED.”
“Sa-, ah... Y-yes. Sir?” Engineer muttered, still befuddled by the sudden assault. That seemed to please the Soldier.
He poked the Engineer's chest with the crop.
“Pants down.” he then ordered.
“Do what now?”
“I said pants down!!”
Engineer blanched. What in Sam's hill was going on here? The rather confused frown on the mechanics face made Soldier roll his eyes under the helmet. “If you think I am going to unbutton your overall myself, you are wrong! I will not put a finger on another man if I'm not intending to rip off their heads, so do what I say!”
The heck?
“I---uh...?”
“STAND AND DELIVER, MAGGOT!”
“A'right, a'right! Ah, hell...” Engie shook his head, but obeyed.
He grunted, and unbuttoned the straps of his overalls, letting the front bib hang flaccid.
This was all getting really weird.
Perhaps this should have been a sign to run, but Engineer missed his chance. Now all he could do was watch as Soldier eyed him skeptically, while circling him, the crop gently bobbing up and down with his wrist.
“Look at you, maggot. Even your goddamn machines need a diet! You are weak! Lazy! FAT!” The soldier emphasized the word 'fat' with a swift and decisive swing of his riding crop, hitting the engineer's very sensitive side. Engineer jerked with a surprised yelp.
”I do not allow such lack of strength in my goddamn team!”
Now that was plain mean. Yes, he hadn't had the shape of Soldier, but the difference between the military man and himself was that Soldier was carrying a rocket launcher around most of the day, and took his over-the-top training regimen very serious. Engineer however was a man that solved problems. Practical problems. And losing weight was none of these.
He growled, knitting his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak: “Son, ya better be taking that back or I'm promisin' ya, I'm gonna lay ya right out--!”
Soldier grabbed him by his nape then and pushed him with such strength to the floor, hadn't he reacted in time, his face would me smashed into the concrete.
“On your knees, maggot, and give me 20! No, 40! GO, GO, GO!”
And Engineer had no other choice but to follow his orders. He was still not fully finding any sense in the man's actions, but if the only reason he called him to his room in privacy for push-ups and hits, then he might as well just unlock the door himself and leave.
“Come on, move your sorry ass!” Soldier bellowed, threatening to whip him once more.
Engie instantly pushed his heavy body off the floor with his hands propping against the ground beneath, lowered himself again just barely before his nose tip touched the floor, and pushed himself up again.
“Faster, FASTER!” Soldier shouted. Engineer tried to speed up without running out of breath. Once he found a steady but involuntary rhythm, puffing out a hot breath each time he lowered himself again, he absolved his push-ups. Soldier watched the man like a hawk, swirling the crop in his hand.
“I have taken it my duty to bring you into shape, Engie. For the next few weeks you'll follow my leads. Things like lollipops and chocolate-bars will not exist in this plan, and this here is only a sample. You will be training hard! Everyday!”
“W-What?” Engineer wheezed.
“I DID NOT ASK YOU A QUESTION!” Soldier whipped Engineer on his nape, and the tinkerer cried in pain. “Come on, come on, One-two, one-two! Faster Maggot!”
“Dagnabbit Soldier, I---”
“Not enough pushing! C'mon professor! I wanna see you kiss the floor! Kiss the floor, dammit!”
Engineer growled angrily, refusing to even consider to –-
“LIPS ON THE FLOOR, SCUM!”
Never had Engineer quicker pressed his lips on anything than now, with each lower, his mouth made contact with the ground, the earthy, unpleasant taste of rock on his tongue.
At the count of 30 push-ups, his powers left his body for good, he groaned and collapsed. His chest heaved and fell rapidly and deeply, his already aching body was feeling like an elephant stood on his spine now.
His lungs burned like fire and each breath he drew was searing in his throat.
Soldier however, was not satisfied. Not satisfied at all.
“Just look at you, disgraceful blob of a man!” To Engineer's relief, Soldier placed the whip back on the table. “You call yourself a mercenary? You call yourself a man of MY team? Hah! I have seen people in goddamn COFFINS fitter than you!”
Engineer didn't reply, rasping to catch his breath and endure the blooming pain of the welts all over his body with occasional groans and whines muffled by the floor. “Show some goddamn backbone, I barely touched you!” Soldier growled. But it seemed Engineer's slightly exaggerated writhing in pain finally reached Soldier's soft spot. He left him there and moved to the desk.
Paper and pen were fetched. Soldier scribbled, and Engineer carefully pushed his body off the floor.
A mingle of anger, frustration, and embarrassment flooded his mind. But before he could start ranting into Soldiers face about that truly atrocious opinion the other man had about him and his work, and the way he treated him, Soldier turned and held out the sheet of paper.
“This is your training schedule! I want to see you at attention, at 0500 hour in the morning, at this very doorstep.”
“Five in the morning?” Engineer rasped, appalled. “Soldier, how the hell ya thinkin' I'm gonna--”
“NO EXCUSES, HARDHAT!” Soldier hollered, and then shoved the engineer to the door. “Dismissed.”
“Soldier, listen to me---!”
“I said, DISMISSED!” The door closed with a harsh swing.
Dumbfounded, wobbly on his knees, burning welts all over his body, his overall half-unbuttoned and a piece of paper in his hand, Engineer began digesting this encounter in mute bewilderment.
It all happened so fast and in such confusing turns and twists, and if Engineer wasn’t holding the evidence of this encounter in his hands right now, he might’ve concluded something was very wrong with tonight’s stew.
Engineer quickly scooted away from Soldier's door, scared another session of whipping would wait for him if he dwelled too long. His hand rubbed over the hot wheal on his neck and he hissed.
For god’s sake, he was fine with being called overweight. Truth be told? He probably was. Too much beer, he chided himself, all while opening another bottle. He didn’t mind being commanded, either. That was part of his job, after all - but Soldier daring to call him “lazy”, and ‘weak’, and smacking him like he was a disobedient donkey?
That was too much.
Alright then, Soldier-boy, Engineer thought. You wanna rustle? Then you better had watchin' them horns! This Conagher right here will show you want happens if you anger the wrong bull!
He would show him what a weakling this Engineer was, right next morning – but first, he should visit the doctor. Those welts were seriously starting to hurt.
Notes:
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Chapter 2: Butchering
Chapter Text
“RISE AND SHINE, MAGGOT!” came the awfully loud greeting just as the sun began dragging itself lazily over the horizon “IT'S APPOXIMATELY 0500 HOURS IN THE MORNING AND TIME FOR YOUR SORRY ASS TO GET IN SHAPE!“
Never had Engineer been woken up in a worse way. Soldier had slammed his door close after his brief, extremely loud speech, and left the poor mechanic shivering in the aftershock of that sudden intruding of his domicile, and so tired it was hard for him to keep himself awake as he scrambled out of the sheets. His eyes fell on the clock. 5 am in the morning. Actually, a minute or two earlier.
He could have had at least two more hours of sleep if it was a normal work day, and double that amount of time if it was a ceasefire day. But today, the Soldier had decided Engie’s routine would undergo some drastic changes. The tinkerer groaned, and dragged himself to his wardrobe, changed his clothes into a single white shirt, his goggles and his overall and lazily slipped into his shoes before meeting the soldier in as much clothing as himself. He rolled his shoulders, cracking his knuckles and neck.
“There you are, hardhat. Ready to drop that cheesecake with cream on top and start your physical remediation?”
It probably wouldn't make any difference if he would reply with yes or no, so he just shrugged his shoulders. “Better get started before we gotta head off ta work, huh?”
“Correct! That's the spirit!” Soldier smirked and patted the Engineer roughly on his shoulder.
The sky was still covered in stars, it was dark and damn cold. Soldier led the tinkerer out of the base to the training grounds behind the building. Would Engineer have known how cold it was at this time in the morning, even in the desert, he would have grabbed a jacket. Trembling with every inch of his body, he slung his arm around his ribs in an attempt to shield himself from the cold. Soldier, wearing even thinner clothes, didn't seem to mind the temperatures whatsoever.
“Alright, greasemonkey. Your times of relaxing afternoons with beer and cream gravy are hereby ENDED! Every soldier of mine will learn to follow orders, to show efficiency on the battlefield, and especially to muster 40 goddamn push-ups in less than fifteen seconds – hell, are you even listening?”
Engineer rubbed over his arms. “H-Hearin' ya loud and clear.” He pressed between clattering teeth.
“For christs sake, Hardhat, it's just a little windy, is all! If you would have fought in the never-ending ice and snow of Poland 1945 you would be goddamn grateful you'd still be able to move your toes and fingers!”
That's right, Soldier had been fighting in Poland before joining the team, Engineer remembered.
“Hoss, where I'm from, ya gonna wish ya would freeze for once!” Engineer pressed out.
By the way Soldier jerked his had back slightly, his helmet swaying over his face, he could imagine that back talking from the other was not expected.
“It seems like your wish was GRANTED, then!” Soldier barked, turned and grabbed the Engineer by his collar to shove him along. “We gonna do some warm-up. Follow me, hardhat!”
“No forty push-ups? No crop swingin'?” Engineer sneered. “How generous of ya.”
“From what I saw yesterday, my level of training is too VIOLENT for you, cupcake! So let’s get you some generous warm-up!”
That 'generous warm-up' was a 400 feet sprint. Engineer stared at the stomped in straight path that stretched over a terribly long line. “Ya can't be serious, Soldier.”
“I am ALWAYS serious, grease monkey!” Soldier lowered his stance, feet angled on the floor, hands pressed into the dirt, shoulders squared. “Get down.” he rumbled. Engineer didn't budge. He still tried to make out the distance from here to the other side, which was nearly impossible in the darkness. He sun did not yet show itself behind the mountains.
“What's the matter, hippy? Too violent for you was well?”
“Heck no!” Engineer hissed, and in wantonness, he leaned down as well, thighs quivering in anticipation. He was not here to be called names all day or being labeled as weak by that half-cooked son'uva'bitch!
“Ready! Set...” Engineer didn't even hear the “go”, as he already saw the Soldier starting to run. He tore through the dirt and sprinted, with Engineer barely catching up behind.
You gotta hand it to him – he was fast, if he wanted to. Usually on the battlefield, he might be one of the slowest. But carrying a rocket launcher around was certainly a restraint. His footfall kicked up dirt and gravel.
Engineer panted, but soon caught up. In fact, he noticed the military man was falling back. Engineer displays a smirk of triumph, seeing the end of the line coming closer and closer. For a moment, with Engineer's glee over beating the Soldier, he didn’t quite realize he was running out of breath very quickly all of the sudden. The line seemed so distant, even though it seemed so close just mere seconds ago. darnit! His lungs began screaming for air, the power in his legs leaving him. Just a few feet before the finish line, he has to stop.
His sight is blurry and his lungs are burning, whistling with every breath, his thighs and calves burning like fire. He is panting, leaning over his knees, sweat dripping down his brow, while he hears Soldier's thunderous steps passing him and reaching the end.
He doesn't see as the military man closes up on him and stands in front of him, hands on his hips, he waits for the tinkerer to catch his breath. He had barely broken into a sweat, Engie realized. Hell, this man is a beast.
“Got hair in your eyes, Missy?” Soldier barked.
“Well, son...-huff-. I guess I, -puff-....underestimated ya there, -huff-.”
“Speed is not the key, hardhat! It's stamina!” He saunters over to the benches and retrieved two towels, one slung around his thick neck, the other tossed towards the mechanic. “Clean yourself up, Tex!”
Engineer reaches for the rag and mobs it over his forehead and face.
“Now that we have warmed you up PROPERLY, it’s time for some stamina training! You apple blossom need to be taught discipline! ENDURANCE!!”
Engineer grabbed his knees and took in a steeling breath. If this was Soldier’s idea of a warm-up, what horrors would await him during endurance training?
“You will NOT bend over in a stomach-emptying position unless I say so, do you hear me?! We are going to burn that laziness off you, even if the Russians invade this here territory!! But they won't, cuz YOU WILL FINISH THIS TRAINING FIRST!”
Soldier dragged the wheezing Engineer across the training ground to the pull-up bar. He jumped up and took a vice grip on the metallic pole, the power in his arms alone holding his muscle-heavy body in the air. He lowered himself, just barely before his knees would touch the ground, pulling himself up again until the pole pressed into his chest.
“The key to - huff- fitness is to train -huff- until your bones break and knuckle bleed!” Soldier huffed between each pull up. Engineer stared across the bar towards his involuntary fitness instructor.
“Sun Tzu said that! And I'd say he knows a little more about training than YOU do pal!!” Soldier pointed his finger at Engie, and almost slipped in the process." Because he INVENTED IT!!"
Engineer didn't buy it, though. He was schooled enough to know that Sun Tzu was a war veteran, not a fitness trainer, and that Soldier was just making up stuff in order to motivate him to...well, 'burn that laziness off him'.
Soldier kept pulling himself up and down. “What are you waiting for, rodeo-clown?! Get to it then!”
But Engineer refused. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, demonstratively staying where he was. “I'm not going to ask twice!”
Engineer groaned, took hold of the bar, and began to pull himself up, down, then up again. Not in that rigorous pace as Soldier did, but at the very least carrying his tools around all day at battle had toned his arms and strengthened his muscles.
But the burn in his abs was quite a different story. Ough, it felt like a burst of fire behind the skin of his belly. How the hell was Soldier able to do this AND continuously yell at him?
“Look at you! Too slow!” he barked. “Faster, hut hut hut!!”
When the burning turned to a cramp, Engineer let go, stumbled, and fell to the dusty ground with a groan.
“Darn,” he puffed.
“A disgraceful display, son! PITIFUL! The freedom of OUR gravelpits is at risk every day and you cannot carry your own weight? You are nothing! You aren’t worth the dirt under my boot!”
He reached his hand out to the smaller man. Engie pointedly ignored it and jumped back onto his feet on his own.
“Now get back to it, RIGHT this instant! I wanna see some CLEAN pull ups!”
This was it. He would take critique well, and negativity wasn't something he wasn’t going to shrink away from. But he wouldn't let this man bully him.
Engie crossed his arms tapping his boot.
Soldier tilted his head. The helmet on his head still swayed, yet his eyes stayed hidden. Metal stared back at toned glasses.
“Are you disregarding my orders, private?”
“Ah dunno - am I?” Engineer replied coldly.
Soldier inched closer. “You do not ask the questions here, maggot, I AM the only one permitted!”
“Is that so?”
“Stop asking questions, beef jerky, and follow my lead!!”
“I'd rather not.” Engineer glowered back. “If'n ya keep handlin' me like I'm a mental handicapped fatass, I'mma ain't doin' a thing.”
“You WILL grab this pole now and you WILL exercise, that is an order!!”
“Forget it then.” Engineer pushed past the wall that was Soldiers' chest.
“Where do you think you're going?”
“Back ta sleep. I ain't gonna put up with this, this early in the morning. Can't believe I actually agreed to this here. Oh, yeah that’s right –didn't have a choice ta begin with!”
There was a vein that popped up at the side of the Soldiers neck. “YOU DISGRACEFUL, SPINELESS WORM! YOU WILL NOT TURN YOUR BACK ON ME AND WALK AWAY FROM YOUR SEARGANT, DO YOU HEAR ME?!”
“Ya ain't my Seargant, Sal!”
“YOU WILL REGRET---”
Suddenly, there was a loud, shrill tone that burst through the loudspeakers around the outside and inside of the base, shaking the mercenaries out of their sleeps, and shooing birds up into the air with loud flutters.
“ALERT! MISSION AT FREIGHT BEGINS IN TWENTY MINUTES!”
Freight used to be a docking station for cargo trains that arrived from the nearby harbor. The two competing companies adjacent to one another were called Redstone cargo and B.L.Us Freight and shipping, build and financed by Redmond and Bluetarch Mann. The only real difference between both enterprises was the different name. Besides that, both shipped and deported the same ware and even went the same route.
Gravel.
Back then, many civilians and workers were wondering why they simply wouldn't team up, instead of building on each other’s lands. Only someone who knew the brothers knew the ongoing conflict between the two, a seemingly never-ending apposition of offensives and counteroffensives, bullying, bragging, buying, building.
And even though the ongoing war left the site pretty much abandoned, the twins fought over who was the actual proprietor of the facility; like with so many other properties their father had left them. Just recently the administrator re-opened the docking station as a battleground for RED and BLU as a control-point map, and claim the territory for their own.
Engineer already had been at the site. Like with most controlpoint-battlegrounds, he, plus his RED counterpart, were assigned to check up on the mechanics of each control point, keeping it up and running lean. But that was mostly a farce, and even he knew it. Of course, they would later on report to their team about the situation at the site, report about changes and possible strategies to counter the other team's attacks.
Perhaps, they fueled this entire endless war by proxy. But that was his job, and after all – and killing some son'a'bitches was a way better pastime than working in some old dilapitated barn back in Bee Cave and occasionally pulling out body parts of dead game rolled over by combines.
Besides the pay was outrageously good.
Engineer swirled his wrench in his hand. He always did before the fight; to relax, and reflect on where he could put his teleporter, his sentry and dispenser. He took a break from the rest of the team that thoroughly chose which weaponry they will choose for todays battle. Scout just recently received a new secondary weapon, a cleaver which Saxton Hale had purchased from a trip to Tokyo. Good as new, he promised, but the dried bits of fish and rice particles said otherwise.
Medic grabbed his medigun, and replaced the overheal container. He always kept them in jars that had a slight red glow in the darkness. Soldier questioned the physician if it was honey, upon which the Medic grimaced and shook his head. Soldier said this has to be honey, it looked exactly like--
“Soldier, you vill not eat zhe medi-fluids! Zhey aren't for you!” On cue, Heavy moved past the doctor and the Soldier, and nearly knocked both over.
“Mission begins in sixty seconds...” The dark smoke-heavy voice of the Administrator murmured through the intercom. Outside the battlefield, there were sounds. Voices that angrily echoed over the battlefield.
“Seems like the Red blokes are already here...” Sniper rumbled and leaned against the metallic slide door.
“Cannot lose dis time.” Heavy mumbled. He was right. They already had lost enough territory this week, one more loss, and their promised paycheck would go to RED.
They were tired, and stressed, and mostly frustrated, Engineer could see it in their faces, and hear it in their voices.
Soldier pressed himself in front of the group.
“ATTEEEENTION!! Men, this is our final chance for win, and our dinner privileges for the rest of the week! I REFUSE to leave my honor and dignity to those red maggots, I will TAKE my honor and dignity to my grave, and so should all of you sorry sacks of crap!! We are mercenaries! We are a TEAM! The SUPERIOR TEAM! And now we are going to give those cheese crackers some hell the likes of which they will never EVER forg--”
The timer struck zero, the door behind him opened with a loud creak, and the team pushed past him, out of the respawn, and to the platforms, jeering their battle cries, and heaving their weapons into the air. Soldier was left alone, his finger still raised, dumbfounded and frozen to the spot, with Engineer calmly collecting his things.
“Boy howdy.” He grabbed his ungainly toolbox and heaved it up to his shoulder. “Well, don't take it personal, hoss. They gonna listen next time, hm?”
Engineer gave the Soldier a soft pat on his arm. The Soldier's gaze was still obscured under that heavy lip of his helmet, it was always hard to read this man’s emotions.
The battle was already in full bloom. Engineer had wasted enough time to collect his belongings to miss setting up a sentry. However he did witness the alert that RED had inched close to the unoccupied control-point in the center. Freight was definitely not one of his favorite battlegrounds. It was messy, all over the place, there were secret passages and confusing shortcuts that even he couldn’t keep up with.
And he lost count of the many times he had been hit, smashed, hauled away and rolled over by passing trains. He quickly moved over metallic bridges, over small water canals and towards his team.
He came to a huffing stop, his unbuilt Sentry in his arms, and observed the surroundings from the distance. BLU may have kept the center point uncontested, yet half of them were scattered, dead, or just in the process of dying.
RED has retreated for now, yet at the other end of the two warehouses, there was an impressive sentry nest. RED Engineer had done some excellent job keeping both dispenser and sentry up in an angle that nobody could reach without getting killed along the way. Time to get started, Conagher.
He quickly moved to the front line, keeping himself hidden behind a wall. Above him, at a smaller platform, stood sniper. There was a loud and shrill 'Boom' sound, and a following scream, somewhere at the other side of the front line.
“Bighead wanker!” The Australian hissed.
“Slim, how's the major situation?” Engie asked, one hand on his helmet as smithereens and shrapnel flew over the wall. “Sentry ahead.” He murmured, aimed, shot, but missed. He gave an almost canine appearing snarl as he reloaded. “Right, what else?”
“Their Heavy and Medic pissed off somewhere that direction. They're prolly choargin' up.”
“Ah, hell.” Engie fetched his wrench. If RED would charge up now, they would never get the central controlpoint. A quick glance at their own Medic’s tense features told him they weren’t even close to an overcharge. Time to get to it then!
“Sentry going up...” He mumbled, and dropped the toolbox. A sudden explosion erupted just close to the protective wall he had pressed himself against. A loud scream, probably Snipers, echoed over his head. He ducked in reflex. Blood splattered across the concrete, bits of intenstines and brain followed.
“Daggnabbit...” Engineer growled, and quickly kept moving, throwing the other end of the teleporter somewhere into a secured corner. Plomp! Plomp! Red-blinking capsules rolled past him. Engineer gasped as he quickly jumped away, just barely escaping the following detonation. He took a look behind him. The teleporter was in shards. “Teleporter down!” he cried. It’s like each of his creations were from his own flesh and blood, his children which he cared for – and seeing one of them hurt or destroyed started to fuel his anger. Baring his teeth, he snatched his wrench, loaded his shotgun.
“C'mere, eyehole!!” He yelled. That’s when the Scotsman jumped behind the wall, sticky-bombs launching into his direction and exploding just a few inches away from his shielded head. Engineer yelped as he collapsed to the floor.
"Don't fret, boyo! I'll be gentle!" the Red demo guffawed and launched another grenade.
“Hutta hutta hmph!!”
It was like a cue from heaven as Pyro appeared around the corner, flamethrower fetched.
“Pyro!” Egineer wheezed. “Pyro there's a demo around here!”
The firebug snickered, always excited at the prospect of killing. It meant more cotton candy clouds and bubbles, and seeing the balloons and gummy bears and confetti bursting out of RED's open torsos was just...Fascinating!
“Too slow!” Engie turned and saw the flash of a baseball bat. Thank god for that hardhat – the smack still knocked him to his feet. Tiny Red Scouts danced before his eyes, followed by the alerted beeping of his sentry, and a gurgled cry-
“Now how did that plan turn out for ya, dummy?” Engineer grinned, running his hand over his chin were the speedster's blood had splattered on.
A big commotion broke out behind him.
To his right, he saw Pyro. Escaping. He screamed, as grenades followed him, Demo running after the poor firebug with a shit-eating grin on his face and a broken Whiskey-bottle in hand. To his left he heard another loud scream in panic.
Medic stormed away from the frontline, fear on his face. Medic was abandoning Heavy?! What in heavens name was happening out there?
Medic ran, but wouldn't come far. A cascade of syringes pelted down onto the German. They sank through his coat into his skin, into his back and his neck, his legs and arms, paralyzing him. He simply tilted forward, petrified, falling to the floor.
A few of his limbs still twitched as the anesthetics started overdosing his body into heart failure.
“Incoming!!” Someone yelled. Engineer pushed past the wall, and glanced towards the center point. Sniper had been right. The RED's Heavy-Medic team had arrived. Overcharged, and invincible. The RED Heavy was bathed in glowing red, his skin seemed literally to be shining, eyes glowing dangerously, his jaw in a wide angry yell, and bullets pierced through everyone that couldn't hide in time. They inched closer to the control point...
“Dammit, dammit, dammit!!” Engineer drew his pistol in a desperate attempt to keep them from capping, he emptied a whole magazine, yet all they seemingly did was turn Heavy’s rage up a notch. Those pair of yellow glistening eyes focused on him now. The tinkerer freezes up in shock. Bullets zinged into his direction, one piercing through his shoulder. He gasped in pain, and dropped the pistol.
He was shaken awake by the next bullet that nearly went through his skull, but only tore open the skin at his cheekbone. He retreated, pressing his back against the wall. Their Heavy, now alone, couldn't run fast enough either. His entire back was turned into gory Swiss cheese.
Engineer breathed hard. Keep your calm boy. The charge can’t take much longer! It's oughta end in a few seconds!
But these seconds felt like hours. Bullets pelted in every direction.
“H-He...” Engineers voice cracked. “H-Help!!” He called. “Help me!!”
In that moment, a rocket flew into his direction. The impact instantly destroyed his sentry, and hauled him a few meters away, he landed hard on the floor and groaned in pain over a broken rib.
“There you are, professor!” The raucous voice of RED Soldier sounded right behind him. Engineer forced himself up to roll onto his back. The Soldier was closing in, drawing his shotgun from his holster, cocking it back. That's it. No way could he get out of this situation alive. So all he did was close his eyes behind toned glasses and await to be embraced by respawn.
“This is my world! YOU are not welcomed in MY WORLD!!” the man yelled. But then suddenly, there was a zing through the air, followed by a dull thud, a skull cracking under a hard surface. The Red Soldier gave a bewildered cry in agony, and instantly collapsed, being replaced by...Blu Soldier.
The man was standing right before the little Engineer with his shovel in his hand. Blood and bits of pink brain matter and hair was sticking to the blade. Pale eyes glowing beneath the helmet with mettle.
“WHAT IN HEAVENS NAME DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?!” The man yelled. Engineer was instantly torn from his shock. He blinks and opened his jaw, yet could barely speak. A hand grabbed his collar and pulled him back up on his feet. “Stop hiding behind your toys and FIGHT LIKE A MAN!!”
He pointed his rocketlauncher at his feet and blasted off back into the skies above, finding his next unaware victim he would smash with his shovel. Engineer stood a few more moments there, recovering from the fact he nearly died. And as fast it came, it ended, and Engineer found himself back in the here and now.
The sudden sad bleeping of his sentry, mixed with the garbled buzzing of the sapper, pushed Engie into action.
"Spy sappin' mah sentry - !"
The 'get-your-head-out-of-your-toolbox-and-look-behind-you' speech he got from the Soldier suddenly flashed through the Engineer's mind upon this realization.
He turned abruptly, and the RED Spy's knife blade only dug a long trench across his arm instead of plunging into his back. Ignoring the injury, the engineer yanked his wrench out from his belt and started swinging it. Missing, though.
Where the hell did that Slug sucker go?! One second ago he had been here, the other he had vanished again. Bad enough their team was dying to the Heavy-Medic combo, he was the last man standing that at least showed some defense. Blood was dripping in a steady current, down his elbow.
Taking a swift swing he yanked off the sticky sapper from his sentry with a loud 'clank'.
Suddenly footsteps inched closer, and Engineer saw the respawned rest of his team jumping out of opened garage doors, and into battle.
“H-Hold up there!” Engie wheezed. “Heavy-Medic combo ahead!”
But none seemed to listen to him, especially not the doggone mad Sniper that rushed past him and back towards the platform he had stood before. “Ah'm gonna blow the inside of their heads...” He growled, taking aim.
There was a loud bang.
The enemy medic cried out as blood gushed out of his skull. Instantly the last bits of the RED Medics ubercharge left the Heavys body, and he was left unprotected.
“Doktor!” He cried out once realizing what has happened to his companion. And once he was alone on the battlefield, unprotected, and vulnerable.
BLU's started storming the center. The Heavy was pushed back, into the safety of the enemy’s sentry nest, which they found destroyed however, the Engineer lying in a puddle of blood with a deep stab wound in his back.
He had to move now or risk being cornered again. “Gotta move that gear up!” he announced, packing his sentry up and running.
“BOOM! I'm back, dummy!” Scouts foot came quicker than Engineer could actually react. The boy planted his foot on the top of his hardhat, pushing it over Engie’s eyes, and jumped back into the air. Engineer tumbled backwards, nearly tripped. He quickly pushed the lip up again to see what just happened, and watched as the Blu Scout hopped through the air, like the little jack-rabbit he was.
Both the speedster and the firebug rushed towards the unprotected point – being surprised by the enemy Demo.
“Ah, jeez!” Scout yelped as he ducked from a sailing grenade tumbling his way.
“KABLOOIE!!” The scotsman yelled with a quick sip from his scrumpy bottle, followed by a belch – only to be launched in the air by a forceful blast of Pyro’s flamethrower, pushing the Demo into his own nest of bombs. He exploded in a rain of red,the whiskey bottle tumbling over and pouring over the controlpoint. There was no defense left, and Blu was free to capture.
“Whohoo! Alright, let’s move it up, let’s move it u--”
Scout landed on the now free control point, slipped in the puddle of alcohol the demo had left there, and tumbled over with a yelp, landing on his bum. The rest followed, Pyro, Medic and Heavy joining to capture.
Scout quickly jumped back on his feet, examining his soaked pants.
“Argh! You GOTTA be kiddin' me!”
“What’s the matteur?” Spy suddenly de-cloaked next to the speedster. “Wet yeur pants a little?”
"We have secured the central control point. ALERT – the second control point is being contested." the old woman's voice echoed.
"Good night, Irene." the engineer sighed in frustration grabbing two toolboxes at once. So occupied with balancing both toolboxes in his arms, he didn't notice the huge wall of muscles that was Heavy’s back. He tumbled as he collided with him and dropped his toolboxes.
“Engineer in vay!” The Russian barked at him over the rolling turret of his minigun. “Engineer better place leettle toys near Heavy!”
“We have lost the control point!” The Administrator announced suddenly.
“Shucks...” Engineer growled.
“Cyka!” Heavy roared. “Doktor, vith me!”
Well, now they had two options; spreading and defending their middle point from being taken again, or they would storm in and push RED back to their borders.
That’s when the doors behind him suddenly sprang open, and a blast of red engulfed them. The force knocked him clean off his boots. His head landed on the flat ground and the hardhat cracked slightly. The smell of burning flesh went up into his nostrils and made him nearly gag.
“Fire, Fire, Fiiire!!” Voices around him screamed. Flames engulfed Engineers overall. Just as he tried to stand, something heavy stomped down on his chest, pinning him back to the floor. The RED Pyro galloped over him, a crimson cloud of fire in its wake.
Flames latched onto clothes, burning and eating the merc’s up, the lucky ones that fled were wounded, yet alive. Engineer wasn't spared. The flames crawled along his thighs and his stomach.
“Agh, ugh, fire!!” he whined, tried patting out the flames.
“Graaaah!” he heard Heavy’s deep angry bellow. A pandemonium of flying bullets and cries in agony hung above them like a thick curtain. “Cry some moooore!!”
They were four, against the entire RED team.
“MAGGOTS!” Soldier roared over all the chaos. A curtain of rockets launched from above them, down upon the enemy. “I am going to enjoy killing EACH and EVERYONE of you sorry sacks of scum!!”
“Soldier, watch out!!”
The veteran reacted instantly, his head turning to the source of the voice, yet couldn't locate it. Watch out for what...?
He didn't see the silver light that flashed in the air – he did feel it though. Sudden, searing hot pain spread in his left upper arm.
A cleaver had buried itself through his clothes, flesh and into his bone, blood oozing from the wound, streaming down his arm into his jacket, to his pants as well. He tumbled midst air, no, he plummeted from ten feet in height, into the heat of battle.
Oddly enough, Soldier felt no pain as he crashed. It was just cold. And wet. It resembled the feeling when his life drained from his body. Everything around him was muffled. When he opened his mouth to breathe, he felt liquid fire pouring down his lungs.
His eyes were blurry from dust or sand, or blood, perhaps? For when he looked up, the world was bathed in red.
The man before him was also red. Brown eyes. No. Just one eye.
Soldier squinted slightly, staring at the figure in front of him. His friend. His best friend...
A jolt went through Soldier. His brain caught up. No. That wasn't Tavish. That was his enemy. His archenemy. A traitor! A nemesis to the true American spirit! Soldier lifted his fist, sluggish movements through the water of the canals, but when he hit, he felt the bone beneath his knuckles shattering. The scotsman held his bleeding nose, there was a muffled sound, and in retaliation, he felt a sudden violent bang against his head. If he wasn’t already seeing stars, he surely was now.
Another smack, this time he heard something shattering. Stabbing pain followed, piercing his thigh. Soldier ignored the blood that oozed out of his leg and his arm like red plumes of smoke, ignoring the violent spinning in his head. Two hands lashed out for him, grabbed his throat.
He knew what that Scottish son-of-a-bitch was going to do! No way would he let this greasy one-eyed crossdresser drown him here! He wouldn't die here, not by his hand! Soldier's hand snatched for Demo's neck as well, pressed it tight. Demo's eye widened suddenly, but he stared back at him with anger sitting deep. He was determined. But the commando was determined too. Dark spots started building around Soldiers vision. His lungs started burning from the lack of oxygen, the two struggled, twitching in the water, legs kicking, hands pressing together around necks that gagged for air.
Air...
He needed air...
His lungs burned like fire!
His hands closed around Demo’s skull. With one violent snap, he heard the muffled cracking of Demo’s neck. Soldier felt the hands around his neck loosen. Tavish’s expression was of surprise, and then slack with death. A few airbubbles escaped his partly opened lips, travelling to the surface above them.
Surface...
Surface!!
He swam, kicked his legs and flailed his arms around with the small amounts of power he had left. He had to get up there. He had to escape, or he would...He would...
His limbs felt heavier than led. He gasped for air, and water filled his lungs again. The dark spots around his vision slowly grew into two large black saucers. Until his entire view would be covered in dark spots.
A hand grabbed for the Soldier's jacket. He felt a tug, someone pulling at him. Light! Light everywhere. And air. Soldier inhaled – and a cascade of water came spraying from his lungs, cough, retching.
“There ya go, Soldier-boy.” A voice ushered into his ear. Soldier grabbed onto the concrete floor beneath him like his life depended on it, while he spat out bouts of water in between wheezing coughs.
When the dark spots around his vision began to ease and open up, he saw a shape before him. Tanned glasses looking back “Ya want me ta get the doc here?” Engineer asked. Soldier blinked the water from his eyes.
“Ya bleedin' from...well, pretty much everywhere.”
Soldier felt a warm stream flowing down his temple. He put fingers at his hairline and looked down at the fingertips. Blood. He looked to the right of his upper arm. Blood. His pants. Blood.
His eyes moved up to his savior in the last moment. That sudden realization brought the Soldier crashing back down into his bullet-riddled body.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, MAGGOT!!” He yelled. Engineer flinched and instantly drew his hand away from the man. The veteran sat up and nearly knocked his helmeted head against Engie's “We are at the verge of losing AGAIN! And YOU pull bodies out of the water?!”
“Whu--?” Engineer blinked. “But...Sal, we won!”
“DO NOT IGNO—Wait. We won?”
“Good, I'm giving you a bonus.” The smoke-roughened voice of the administrator echoes. “Now, CLEAN UP AND REPORT FOR DEBREIFING.”
Engineer speaks the truth – He pushed himself off the ground, and struggled against the immobility of his right leg, so Engineer kneels down. “Come on then.” He slug the Soldiers mighty arm around his shoulder.
“I don't need help.” he grunted.
“Sure ya don't.”
Engineer slowly heaves the man in a standing position, fresh blood squirting from the crescent moon shaped cut in his leg. Soldier gave little than another strangled grunt and bared his teeth; fingers clawed at Engineer's overall.
“There ya go, hoss. Lets get you moving to the doc.”
“I don't need the doc! I do not feel pain! I do not have TIME to feel pain!! ” Soldier barked, and tried pulling away from Engineer – but the man got him in a tight grip.
“Sal yer bleedin' a hella lot.”
“I DO NOT NEED A ME—Aagh.” A sudden wrong movement, and Soldier’s weight threatened to take them both for a tumble. Engineer caught him, more or less with grace and with a huge effort to keep himself standing.
“Easy now...” he slowly lowered the man back to the floor.
“Get me up, I can stand on my own!” But any attempts at standing seemed fruitless, now that he was lying down. Engie held his upper body up, with his legs supporting him, and his arms slung around him.
Doc, we need yer help here.”
“Jawohl!” The attentive voice echoed as Medic turned to the two, kneeling by Soldier’s side. Poor doc was beaten up pretty badly himself. A blue and purple shiner on his left side. Engie could still see the puncture wounds literring the man’s nape from the syringe assault moments ago.
“Now let’s see here. Ah, yes. Zhis ve need to sew up. Zhis should heal with time. My, aren’t you lucky, Herr Soldat. A few inches to ze left, and that might have struck an artery.” He pointed a gloved finger at the inside of Soldier’s thigh.
“Stop the coddled wishy-washy and do your job!” the patriot spat. The Soldiers attempts to come free were only halfhearted by now, and he stopped once Medic had sewn the offending gash in his leg and wrapped up his arm. He, as well as the other injured merc’s, were carried off to the trucks.
“Does it still hurt?” Engineer asks carefully.
“What?” Soldier mutters. The tinkerer's hand motions to his own thigh, tapping an invisible wound. Soldier stares at him and then down at his own leg, examining the still fresh, dark red and pink cut. He puts on that expression as if he hadn't noticed it had been there the whole time.
“Oh, this...?” Soldier rubbed the last bits of crusted blood from his bare leg. It must burn like shit, Engineer thought, especially now in the water, under the shower, with soap spilling down his body - but Soldier doesn't even make a face.
“Yeah. Boy, that Scout an' Demo gotcha real good there, huh?” He recalled the cleaver flying across the battlefield. Nastly new toy the speedster got there, Engie thought. I oughta watch that one next time.
Soldier just scowls. “Pain is weakness leaving the body.” he explains gruffly.
Engineer whistles lowly. “Whoo-whee. Can't say ah've heard that one before, then.”
“Sun Tzu said that.”
“Did he now?” Engie smirked. HJe wondered just how much the Soldier knew about that ancient war veteran and how much literature he had actually consumed.
“So that's the reason ya never visitin' the medic, huh?”
“I don't need a frilly apron wearing nurse running after me all the goddamn time. I am not the Sputnik! I do not have time to feel pain when I have to tear apart those filthy communists taking MY intelligence and capturing MY points!”
“Y'know, ya oughta tend to it neverthless. We ain't want'cha to get that infected, huh?”
“This wound is subjected to MY commands! It won't do anything different than healing before I SAY SO!” Soldier had twisted his head and shouted at his own arm, then at his leg. Gee. He forgot all about this one’s antics, Engie mused.
“Well boy, if ya think ya body's gonna listen to ya commands all the time, ya gonna have a bad time.” Engineer drawled. “Ya can't control everythin', hm?”
“Oh really?” Soldier's voice had a defiant tone.
“Tsk, if we could control anythin', I wouldn't be havin' any trouble with 'em Spah's, huh?”
Soldier's determined face crumbled at that.
Engineer was right. He was always right. Muttering something unintelligible, Soldier eyes his wound, and then returns to rubbing the bar of soap against his midriff. He wasn't going to admit that he both hated and loved the way Engineer's words always made sense to him.
He was smart, after all.
No matter what he confided to him, the Texan seemed to always know exactly how to answer. When Soldier had an issue to solve, Engie would be there to aid him, without making him feel like an idiot. He spoke to him with the same respect he offered anybody. Engineer knew though that Soldier's way of thinking was different from his – or any other sane people.
Engie found his thighs aching in places that were not familiar after battle, and groaned slightly. Those damn morning exercises, he though. Good thing today’s mission had spared him more of Soldier’s rigid training today. Tomorrow, he might not be so lucky.
He wondered what a man like Soldier was even doing here. With his skills, he could be strolling on greener pastures that didn't include being torn to shreds, burned alive, or beaten to red mush.
Had to be the paychecks. But then again, he barely ever heard the man speak about money. Always about his joy of killing for the sake of killing.
Every military in the world would kill for a trained killer like him.
He remembered holding his file at some point, but forgot most of what it said. Something about being rejected from most branches of the military.
And about a trip to Poland in the late 1940’s. At the peak of World War Two.
It must have been scary, all alone in a raging war, lost in the war-torn tundra of Poland with no sound but the blowing wind and gunfire. Engineer had never witnessed any wars, never fought in one. Pop's fought sometimes during the First World War, and came back a changed man. The horror's it bore were spared from Dell.
But not to Soldier. He must’ve seen things. Things a normal mortal shouldn't witness.
Engineer cast a studying glance at the man that stood under the calming, warm spray of the water. He had never really seen his face without the helmet on. Not even now did he take it off, as ridiculous as that was. He saw the weather-beaten, scarred face of the man, the angular masculine shapes and edges, the wrinkles around the corner of his mouth and cheekbones.
He looked old for his actual age. Tired. Almost sad, he dared to say. What he saw here was not the red-blooded all American man of rage and anger and blood lust, but the beast at rest, fallen back into its shell before it would strike once again as soon as he would enter the battlefield. Engineer couldn't help, but trail his eyes up and down the man's body, soaking in every inch of soft skin stretched over stone-hard muscles. He was huge and broad, at least compared to him, the smallest teammember. If beauty-standards were measured by sheer strength alone, Engie might’ve called the man beautiful.
But who was he to judge what beauty is? He solves practical problems, not philosophical.
Engineer grabbed the soap and lathered his hands, washing off the dust and sweat and mud from today's battle. The awkward silence prolongs, with Engineer still not fully knowing what to do or say. Thank you? Or good job? Soldier knew he did a good job, and thanking him was not necessary, he would always say so. But how else was he going to express his gratitude for saving his ass out there?
He felt the need to say something to him, to communicate with this man, but how?
Perhaps, he thought, he should just get done already and worry about it tomorrow morning. Soldier would want him to be up and ready to go, and he wouldn't miss it. Engineer turned the shower off, shook his head like a wet dog and heading for the lockers.
“Where do you think you're going, private?”
Engineer jerks at the sudden gruff voice behind him. He wheels around to find the man had moved closer. From the way his eyes were narrowed under the brim of his helmet and his lip tugged up in a scowl he was definitely not pleased by the Engineer's idea of leaving so suddenly.
“I'm needin' yer permission ta leave the shower, as well?” he asked in a daring cocky voice.
“You have not fulfilled the measures of acceptable hygiene yet.” Soldier was quick to extend his hand, grabbing Engineer by the shoulder and pulling him back under the spray of water. The texan gasped, but didn't struggle as he felt himself being gently pushed against the wall, with Soldier behind him.
“No wonder you get caught by the bloody frenchman all the time, he smells you from over two miles! They have a sixth sense for bad scents.”
“Well, ain't that charmin'...” Engineer drawled. Soldier grabbed the piece of his own soap and rubbed it rather roughly over Engineer's shoulder blades.
“Charm has no space in battle. I want my men clean and ready for war. And since you don't have hands sticking outta your backside, you need some assistance here.”
“Huh. Well, much obliged partner.”
Soldier only grunted as a reply. There was something strangely pleasant in the way the rough man was massaging and squeezing over Engineer's shoulders and sides to rub in the coat of soap. He wasn't in any way gentle with this, but how could he judge him – tenderness had no place in battle either, he mused.
Darn, he thought. He really needed to get laid. Must’ve been too long, he figured, if this of all things was making him realize just how starved for genuine human contact he was.
With a small sigh, he arched his back into the man's busy hands anyway.
Soldier furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, running his fingers over the smaller man’s tense shoulder blades. Well, he might be a little fat around the middle, but years of carrying those large toolboxes around had paid off nicely. Especially around his arms. He almost slipped a compliment at this, but halted. This maggot didn't deserve any recognition until he could see some progress in their training.
Something then did strike his admiration however.
Just now as the water washed away the foam, he came to notice the white coloration's along his skin that seemed so out of place on the tan Texan-sun kissed skin of his. They varied from long thin lines to round, rough shapes. Some around the areas of his lats, the others around the spine and lower back. Just by now the Soldier came to understand that these were scars. He never realized he wasn’t the only one leaving the battlegrounds with scars.
'He always hides behind his pile of scrap like the coward he is’, Soldier had declared often enough, even in the presence of the tinkerer. He wouldn't get any serious marks of any battle when all he does is letting his machines do the work.
But that was a false accusation, he realized. There was a line of several small holes running diagonally across his spine that could have been put there in rapid succession by a machine gun.A mark, as large as his own hand marked the lower half of his back in a mildly deeper shade than his normal skin-color, a burn wound or infected cut. But what strikes the military man's eyes were the many large white gapes along his neck and shoulders, mostly located on the left side. Right in the narrowed space between shoulder blades and ribs.
Spies were terrible specimen. They knew where to hit to leave their victims gasping for breath through punctured lungs, slowly asphyxiating until respawn picked them up. They knew how to outsmart even the smartest man in their team.
And he was positive RED Spy was taking the greatest of pleasures tormenting the BLU’s Engineer.
Engineer has noticed how Soldier's touch softened, not at all interested in rubbing off the dirt and grime anymore. He was absent-minded and trailed his fingers over the contours of his skin, ugly discoloration from battle and life-long reminders of his profession.
It wasn't so bad, the ache of a blade in his back was not as painful as getting burned alive, and respawn was always trusty to pick him up. But it left scars, nevertheless. And Soldier traced each of them with a strange delicacy. By now his rough rubbing and squeezing changed into a slow paced stroking.
Engie stood still, not daring to move, lest it would surely scare the veteran away.
And then something urged the rocketman forwards and he pressed his lips against the large white scar.
Engineer gasped. The sudden contact of warm, calloused lips against that sensitive part of skin caught him with surprise, and he wheeled around.
“Sal, what in sam's hill--?”
A firm, seeking mouth crashed fervently against his own. Teeth clacked against his own awkwardly, Engineer leaned back, his back pressing against the wall by that sudden attack of lips on his, and his first impulse was to break free. Soldier's hands closed around his shoulders in a tight grip, not letting him go. His entire body told him 'stay'. And oddly enough, the tinkerer did.
With hesitation, or rather having no other option but to, he opened his mouth a little more and pressing his lips against Soldier's. He replied eagerly, tongue tracing against Engie's mouth. A moan rumbled through both their throats. Engineer's hands searched and reached out, grabbed the next thing he could reach, which were Soldier's broad shoulders. What was going on?
Was this the same man that proclaimed any form of physicality beyond a brotherly pat on the shoulder was just hippie-stuff? Couldn’t be.
But here he was, kissing him, with such an odd desperation...
“Soldier...?” He tries to get his mind out of that hazy cloud and grab a string of coherent thought.
Soldier didn't reply, nor did he let that stop him from cupping Engineer's face in his large paws, drawing him back and deeper against his lips. The taller man leaned his chest against his, pressing him into the wall, hand on Engineer's jaw, the other kneading down his nape, his back and his sides. Skin still heated up and steaming from the hot shower, Soldier’s body threatened to burn him up. Rock hard muscles slid over his own, strong arms holding him in a snug grasp, low on his back.
Involuntarily, Engie could feel his body…reacting.
Blood rushed from his flush cheeks downwards.
Soldier broke away, just as sudden as he had sealed their mouths. Both were panting from the temporary lack of air around them, and the hot humid air heated by the water spraying down on both of them didn't quite help to catch their breath. Engineer stared back at the man's concealed eyes, searching for an answer, for a track to run on. But Solly stared back with the same clueless, lost expression. He jerked his hands away then, and stepped backwards. His adams apple bobbed up nervously.
“You're ready to go now, Engie...” he said then. His voice was only a decibel of the usual volume of his booming voice.
Engineer blinked back at the man with confusion.
“Wh—Wha--?” he barely managed to mutter.
“My duties are done here. You're dismissed.” But he himself turned around then, grabbed his clothes and pushed his helmet back in place, and the towel around his hips and marched out of the room, as fast as he possibly could.
Engineer still stood in the spray of the shower, staring at the door that slowly closed after Soldier had left. His mouth felt dry all of the sudden.
Peering down at himself, he felt his breath leaving his body.
Oh.
He might be in trouble, now…
Chapter 3: Justifying
Chapter Text
“Agh, it's friggin' freezin' here...” Scout drew the edges of his blanket a little tighter around his shoulders.
“Son, don't put'cha feet on the seats.”
“What are ya, my mom?”
“No, I dun' wanna clean up the train if the administrator finds out we're dragging dirt all over her property.”
“Oh jeez, like she would freakin’ care.” But the Bostonian still put his legs down.
“Ah told'cha take some warm clothes with ya.”
“Ya didn't tell me it would be friggin' Ontario-cold though!”
Engineer sighed. He had told Scout their next mission was going to be in Canada. At least thrice. But Scout had insisted that he would warm up during the battle anyway, so there was no need for any jackets or warm sweater.
Heck, he had even laughed at the large Blu colored turtleneck sweater the Engineer wore beneath his overall, with the large Letter “E” on top.
E for Engineer.
It was a nice pullover his mother had made for him back when he was just starting at his job as the team's mechanic, and he gladly wore it every year at Christmas and whenever the temperatures fell down to minus degrees. He felt a little like one of the Weasley kids.
Now Engineer watched the shuddering, sniffling ball of Scout that rubbed his hands together and blew hot air into his palms, and he could tell him ‘told you so’ - but he really wasn't the kind of guy to rub it in.
Instead, Engie leaned back and peered outside the window into the endless snow-covered prairie.They had passed valleys of high mountains and beautiful landscapes, a few animals jumped, startled by the sound of the train rushing lonely through the nature. And then everything changed from green trees and sunshine into a land of ice and snow.
“Shall I go get Pyro?” Engie asked. “He wouldn't let'cha freeze here.”
“Uh, yeah, well, he would also burn off my hair, or make a campfire outta my backpack!” Scout drew his rucksack protectively to his chest.
Engineer stretched his arms. “Fine then, I'mma ask Heavy if he's got a spare sweater for ya.” He needed some kind of movement anyway or he'll freeze to his seat.
He exited their cabin, stretched his arms and twisted his shoulders from the left to the right, and moved down the hallway, past Spy's and Pyro's cabin which was already covered in drawings the little firebug had scribbled on the walls, and Spy uninterestedly browsing his magazines. He moved past Demo's and Sniper's cabin, in which he only saw both of them passed out and leaning against each other in a uncharacteristically sweet way. With a modest knock against Medic's and Heavy's cab, he waited until they stopped their cardgame.
“Dha?” Heavy poked his head out of the half-opened door.
“Uh, ya fella's got any spare sweater for Scout? He's freezin' a helluva lot, yknow.”
“Nyet.” Heavy answered dryly, and he was about to close the door again, when a gloved hand patted against the russian's wide chest.
“Now now, Heavy.” Medic tut-tutted. “At least give zhe poor boy your jacket, ja? Bitte.”
The Russian grunted, but turned around then and started shuffling through his luggage. It was amazing how easily the German had been able to wrap the large Russian around his finger. Sometimes they acted like an old married couple. Not necessarily cute – but amusing.
"Thanks," Engie rubbed his neck."
"You look tired, friend. Are you eating enough?" Medic smiled his warmest smile at the tinkerer, with a streak of empathy hidden in there.
“Holdin’ it together. I'm jus' hopin' RED ain't waitin' for us already vith boom and kabloowie.”
“Oh, don't you vorry about zhat.” Medic shrugged that off with a flop of his hand. “Zhey might not play very fair, but zhey at least should have enough decency to give us zhe time to settle into our new base.”
Medic was right about that, he supposed. Last month, RED had mercilessly waited at the train station at Powerhouse and blown everything up. Luckily for them, Respawn was activated upon arrival, but it was a curse, collecting all their stuff back from the exploded trainwreck. Revenge was a dish served cold best, and they had immense fun chasing those suns’a’bitches around the battlefield and making them jump off the cliffs into their own suicide.
And afterwards, Scout and Pyro would throw rolls of toiletpaper across RED's base and laugh their asses off. But no matter how funny that memory was, optimally, it shouldn't happen again.
“Didn't you tell Scout to dress properly for zhis trip? Ve are going to be fighting in ice and snow for zhe next zhree days!”
“Well, I did, the lil' scoundrel didn't wanna hear it.”
“Ach, vhat a katastrophe. I can't have him running a cold, or zhe flu vhile in battle. Heavy, mach schnell, get zhe jacket already!”
The russian growled displeased.
“Say, Dell...have you lost weight?” Medic suddenly noted. Heavy stopped roaming his backpack and looked up as well now, eyeing Engineer's midsection. Engineer couldn't help but feel his cheeks heating up a little.
“Uh—I guess?” Engineer shows a crooked grin.
“I could svear you look slimmer zhe last time I--- Are you not feeling vell?”
“Nah, don't worry doc. Me and Sal-- err, Soldier, we've been doin' some workout lately, y'know.”
“You friends vid Soldier?” Heavy asks.
“Me? Nooo, no, no - not at all...We're jus'...hangin' out, is all. He gives me some private trainin', I give him company. The old sonuvabitch prolly needs it.”
Heavy eventually drew a large, blue jacket from his suitcase, and handed it over to the Engineer. It was, indeed large. Three Scouts could fit into that garment. He was about to slip a comment, but seeing as Heavy was already staring intensely at him with a hint of what could be either boredom or anger ( you never knew with this colossus ), he decided not to.
“Appreciated, hombre.” Engineer carefully folded the jacket.
“Ees jacket from dustbowl mission.” Heavy informed out of the blue.
“Okay...?” Engineer nodded.
“Earned it. Ees expensive. Tell scout Heavy vill crush him if he spills milk on it.”
The Texan knew he was not joking. He would most definitely crush him as soon as respawn was active. “Sure thing, Heavy. I'll be makin' sure he'll treat it with care.”
“Oh, and vhile you're on your vay...” Medic turned away from the door, and sunk his hands in one of the bags. ”Here, it's for Soldier."
Engie grinned. “How cheritable of yer, Doc.”
Medic scoffed. “Puh! Hardly. He refuses to take his antibiotics.”
“So yer doin’ it like they do with dogs and hide it inside a treat?” Engie laughed.
He took the little meal in the form of a half-cut sandwich wrapped in foil, and wonder if Medic’s trick would work on him.
That is, if Soldier was even willing to see Engie.
Soldier seemed to grow distant from him, ever since that incident. Maybe he regretted whatever decision his birdbrain had planned there, and hoped to spare the awkwardness by keeping his distance. Fact was though, it was only becoming more awkward the longer the matter was not addressed.
The wordless greetings when they passed each other in the hallways, the uneasy silence between them while working out together. Heck, it even felt like Soldier was deliberately trying to avoid entering the washrooms whenever he predicted Engie to be there.
Well, he wouldn't judge him. It had been a strange move, which shouldn't have been a surprise, since; well, it's Soldier after all.
And if Engineer was honest with himself? He might have needed that distance himself. That day at the washrooms was putting his mind in an upheaval lately. Questions such as why, or why him, or what does this mean popped up occassionaly and derailed anything the tinkerer was working on.
Just a dry-spell that’s getting a bit desperate, he reasoned with himself. Gotta be! Next time he was at the city, he’d take himself a gal that wasn’t twenty years his senior or a lady of the night, and that will surely clear his head.Right...?
Engineer moved through the train and hands Scout the large sweater, which he cocoons himself in and his shuddering slowly fades. He looks much better now too, color returns to his face and he smiles again. Then he moves to the very end of the vehicle, the last cab which soldier had occupied.
The man was leaning against his seat, arms crossed over his chest, helmet tilted forward, snoring softly.
It was strange to notice that although he wasn't wearing his usual blue coat, he wasn't shivering at all. Not a tiny bit. Engineer pondered if he should return later and let him sleep. But then again, he ought to eat.
So, he carefully opens the door and slides it to the side. Soldier was out like a light.. His even snoring echoes over the rattle of the train. Engineer cautiously extends his hand to place the foiled meal on the table.
“I did not give you permission to enter my domicile.”
Engineer flinched so hard he almost dropped the sandwich. His eyes dart back to the man across him. Soldier had his thumb hooked under the rim of his helmet and had it pushed up just enough to spot the tinkerer. He was awake. Weirdly enough not even slightly dazed or numb from his previous slumber.
“W-Were you......I was....i mean...” Engineer stammers and can't stop it, many words and forms of apologies flood his mind all at once and he can't settle on one that would lift at least an ounce of awkwardness. The veteran was not good at reading other people's facial expressions, but that confused gaze was unmissable. “You have fallen for my tactic I see? I would have thought better of you.”
“Tactic? Wh—What tactic?”
“This is a dangerous world, hardhat! One wrong step and you are dead. That is why I pretended over the last five hours to be asleep in order to trick any enemy spies that may have sneaked aboard this train.”
“You…You pretended to be asleep for the last five hours? Without movin' or anythin'?” Engineer blinked rapidly under his goggles.
“Better save than sorry maggot! You should of learned that by now, your tactic of perfect camouflage is to hide behind your soda machines!” Soldier eyed the package in Engie's hand. “What is that?”
“Uhm...reckoned you’re hungry.”
Engineer hesitatingly holds it in his direction.
Soldier grimaces. “Is that one of Heavy's?”
“Err,”
“You DARE offer me communist bread?”
“It’s got peanut butter.”
“…I am willing to inspect it for any suspicious substances.”
Just like a dog, Engie thought and fought the grin threatening to overtake his mouth. Hope medic hid his lil’ pills well. Soldier took the offered sandwich and gave it a sniff. Then a careful bite. He chewed, long and slow.
Swallowed. Took another, bigger bite.
Pooch took the bait, Engie thought.
He continued to stand between the door and deliberate if Soldier wanted him to leave or stay, and after a while, he started wiggling a little around on his feet so they won't fall asleep. “Uhm, well, uh, ah think I'm gonna---”
“There.” Soldier holds out the other half of the bread. “Sit down, private.”
“Ahh, much obliged partner, but ah've already eaten, so---”
“That was not a request!”
Engineer sat down so quickly he actually nearly knocked over the table that stood between them. Soldier thrust the sandwich into his direction. “I'm not getting one more of those things down.” he growled. “This Slavic bread is as dry as sawdust. It probably IS sawdust! Take it.”
Darn, getting drugged up on pain meds was not in his plans for today. Oh well.
Engineer started eating slowly, the previous awkwardness now continuing on a new level. The room was filled with the clumsy noises of clothes shuffling, train rattling and chewing and while Engineer tried not to maintain eye contact with him too long, he stared outside the window, but that didn't promise him much either. Two hours now they were seeing nothing but endless fields of snow, a few trees here and there and the shadow of a mountain in the background. Other than that, it was pitch black outside.
“How much longer we gonna sit in this lunchbox on wheels?” Soldier grunted angrily.
“Hm, last time I checked we still got a long ride. Ya ain't that much into roadtrips, huh, Sal?”
“Why do you keep calling me that?” Soldier pouts.
“Well, Soldier is quite a mouthful, hoss.”
That's true. And since he called Engineer Engie a lot, he figured that was only fair.
“You're the only one calling me like that.” he notices. “There would be no other addressing other than ‘Sir’ if this platoon was under MY conduct.”
“Ya want me ta stop sayin' it?”
“...Negatory.” Soldier shakes his head after a moment of pondering.
“Tell me, why ya sittin' here all by ya own, huh? Ah bet Demo and Sniper would have been glad ta have ya with 'em.”
“Demo snores too loud.” Soldier speaks with his mouth full of sandwich. “And Sniper smells funny.” Engineer laughed at that. “Yeah, ya right about that ah s'ppose.” And then he once again speaks without thinking first and asks.
“Ya wanna come over and sit with me and Scout?”
Soldier lifts his head a little, looking back at the mechanic. He stops chewing, cheeks bulging with food, crumbles dropping from the corner of his mouth. Although most of his head was covered, Engineer could clearly see the off-guard look on his battle-ridden face.
Are you crazy? Scout will kill you! He scolded himself inwardly.
“You...you're offering me to sit with you?” Soldier asks.
Damn his sense of compassion…
Engineer doesn't answer, but without wasting a second thought, he grabs the single bag that rested on the bench belonging to the Soldier and draped it over his shoulder. The clanking and rattling inside told him that Soldier had more weaponry inside there than any other utensils.
“C'mon, hoss.” he opens the door for them. Soldier quickly jumps up to his feet, abandons the half eaten sandwich on the table and follows him down the corridor. Something about him suddenly seemed a little less sad than it was before.
“So, yer training's payin' off nicely.” he smiles up at the veteran. “Medic's been noticin' ah'm loosin' weight.”
“He's a doctor. It's his obligatory task to notice physical changes on teammates.” Soldier said, very unfazed. Again, there was no use in complimenting him, he knows he's doing a good job.
“Well, probably. Ah'm still gonna take it as a compliment though.” And then Engineer chuckled and Soldier stares down at the man with the oddest expression. He wonders what goes through his head. Scout however has a reason less to laugh as he watches the door slide open, with engineer returning, Soldier following shortly after.
“Ah, jeez! What the heck is he doin' here?” the kid asks, neck deep in Heavy's jacket.
“He's gonna ride with us.” Engineer explains, carefully placing Soldier's bag on the bench across from the boy. “If that's a'right with ya.”
“Uh—no?” Scout grunts accusingly. He hasn't forgotten how often the Soldier had beaten him, 'disciplined' him, and shoved his head face-first in his own food. “Anyone, but that old fart!” His finger points towards the helmeted man.
Soldier only cringes, looking like a deer in the headlights. He would have blurted out a comment, yelled, probably even attack Scout, but he did none of these. Engineer decided to chide in.
“Now stop that, Scout, didn'tcha mother teach ya not ta point at people?”
“Didn't his mutha tell him not to be an angry old fart?” Scout was still not dropping his arm. Engineer took a firm grasp of Soldier's arm suddenly and pushed him down, making him sit, next to him, on the bench. Beneath his goggles, he glares at the Bostonian.
“I’m promising yer, he’ll be as meek as a kitten. Ain’t that right Sal?”
“You-“
Engie grabbed the Soldier’s arm and gave him a warning squeeze. Soldier snapped his jaw shut.
Scout sputters, but finds no good reply. Well, considering the choice between staying with Spy and Pyro, Demo and Sniper or Medic and Heavy, he figured the Engineer was still the sanest person in this entire train. And he kept Soldier on a short leash. He grumbles, and turns around giving them the cold shoulder.
“Fine, jus'-- don't start makin' out or somethin', ya old fags.”
“What was that?” Engineer hisses.
“Nuthin'.”
Scout pretended to be asleep, huddled together with Heavy's jacket draped over him like a blanket. To avoid any further conversations.
Engineer didn't care. He turns to Soldier, and sees how …out of place the man was feeling.
“Yer alright, Sal.” Engineer gently places his hand on the larger man's back and gave it an comforting squeeze.
Soldier peeks up at him, shortly, and straightened his back. “Thanks.” he mutters. And he really means it. The touch seemed unfamiliar to him, but it calmed his body and mind down from bubbling anxieties.
“No problem, partner.”
"Men, the worm has turned! We left Frey victorious, and no RED bastard could stop us. I wanna see that same passion out there today!" Soldier snapped his fist to his chest. "Do i make myself clear?!"
Snowplow was exaclty as Miss Pauling had promised them – cold. Lonely. The only reason this was a point of interest was the railway sliding through the dilapitated factory. It sat at a junction between two harbors which imported the finest artillery from Greenland directly to New Mexico. Only problem was, these two harbors belonged to RED and BLU respectively. And RED was going to de-rail that train, seize it, and lead it into their own depot - come what may.
The train was an old thing, long out of commission. This ride seemed to be its last hoorah. The cargo they'd have to get through this junction was a large bomb, half-hazardly screwed onto the smaller train. That thing goes off, and it would surely tear up everything around.
There was not much time for either team to get accustomed to the surroundings, as the doors opened with a loud swing and everyone blindly ran onto the battlefield. Heavy and Demo charged right out of respawn, Medic following both. Spy cloaked right away and followed Sniper, Pyro and Scout, and the last one was Soldier, his rocket launcher cradled to his neck and with a blast to his own feet, he launches ten feet into the air, flying over their heads like a hawk, bellowing obscenities at the top of his lungs and threatening the RED scum with every bodily harm imaginable.
Pyro signs for Engie to come along, mumbles a muffled command, and Engineer is quick to follow. In the security of a wall, Engineer prepares the sentrygun.
“Thanks, Mister.” Engie smiles at his masked friend.
Occasional frantic bleeping echoed then, followed by screams in agony when the sentrygun caught RED's scout trying to sneak past their defense and attack the raging Heavy from behind.
Sometimes teammates gathered around the dispenser to refill their guns and regenerate when Medic was not around, and everyone was given a scrutinizing glance by the Pyro. The firebug raised his flamethrower to check if it really wasn't just a spook disguised as that Demoman that seemed awfully interested in his machinery, or that Scout that took a little too long crouching close to the dispenser. Engineer heard bullets flying in every direction at the second control-point they tried to occupy.
It was taking too long. Everything went too slowly. Before Engineer can check what was hindering the team from further proceed, he suddenly hears the voice of the Administrator, loud and clear, exclaiming.
“The enemy is about to deploy the device.” And then a countdown.
By the beat of one, a large boulder came careening down the mountain side, smashing into the train with an enormous crash. Shrapnel's flew in every direction, the blast alone send three team members of BLU and RED sailing into the snow face-first, the enemies Soldier even hauled over the edge of the cliff and fall into the nearly never-ending depths of the mountain gorge.
“Dammit!!” Engineer growls, flicking the wrench in his grip and throwing it against the dispenser to further level it up. Sniper appears close to them, blood splattered all over his face, panting and sweaty. He slumps against the dispenser to catch his breath.
“Sniper, how's the situation out there?”
“Level three sentry set up in the empty barn, and a Heavy Medic teamwork on top of the point. We can't get past 'em, mate.”
“Ah hell...” Engie growls, watching from the distance as their team's infantryman and doctor tried their hardest to catch up with the continuously shooting around them. The blow of a Sniper rifle echoes over the field, Heavy screams, collapses, burying the german under his weight.
The mechanic looks over his shoulder back to the supply room door. The counter said 16 seconds until full respawn.
“Dagnabbit, we're workin' too slow! Where's that Spah? He's gotta take that Sentry down.” His eyes wander over the field. “A'right we need Heavy and Medic takin' the RED duo down, then we gotta make sure Spah's sappin' everythin' and Demo will blow that thing up, Sniper over there's gonna keep heatshootin' everyone and Scout MUST stay close to the control point.”
“Mmh mm mhh!” Pyro pokes at Engie's shoulder.
“Ah swear, if he's too busy takin' that piss drippin' Aussie down---”
“MMPH!” Pyro yelled through the mask.
“What?!”
Engie turns around, his eyes falling down to the Sniper that leaned against the dispenser. For a monet, he was confused by the Sniper’s body, slack, face frozen in an expression of surprise and shock – and said Sniper, standing a few feet away from them. Quite alive.
Last minute, he notices that shit-eating grin appearing on the doppelganger, before vanishing into thin mist.
“Spah!!” Engineer calls frantically, reaching for his shotgun, and Pyro started throwing fire around their little nest. Slimy bastard must've gotten away!
“Dagnabbit, dammit!!” Engineer growls. Suddenly, he hears another explosion. This time, it's not the train though. And not his equipment, thank god. But RED's sentry blows into a million pieces, some flying through the air and hitting the RED's doc. He cries out, drops the medigun and hysterically runs around, trying to pull out the large sharp shrapnel that is stuck in the right side of his skull. Their Heavy was alone now!
“Go, Go, Go! CHARGE!” he hears an all too familiar voice echo over the field. Soldier flies over their heads, his boots catching fire and midair he swings the rocket launcher back over his shoulder, draws his shovel, and BAM – Heavy down.
Only seconds later Scout joins him and comes to a halt by the control point, followed by the other team members. The bell rang, and the control point was successfully seized.
“Nice goin', partner!” Engie pants into Pyro's direction, and owns a happy wheeze that sounds like a chuckle. “But that Spah's still creepin' around here. We gotta be careful, yeah?”
“Mh-hmmph!” Pyro nods, and together they follow the trains rails into a canopy and outside into an open forecourt. The train came to a stuttering halt, it had crashed and stopped in a barricade of wooden planks. The control point was only a few feet away from them – then he suddenly sees a large, very large and very angry shadow move in the corner of his eyes, and then bullets zinging through the air.
“Incoming!!” Demo calls, and instantly the team scatters in all directions, behind barrels and walls, Engineer drops down flat on his stomach, the toolbox clattering and coming to a halt in the security of the arch of a staircase. The enemies Heavy is growling, bellowing in sheer fury over the battlefield “End of line, tiny men!”
Here they stood, one control point away from victory, and a furious Russian giant in their way. The last one was always the hardest, Engineer remembered. Corner a wild animal and you’ll catch its fangs.
After a few moments of spying around and deliberating and calculating which spot would be the best to set his machinery up, he finds a spot behind a little hill, close to the train. If he can set his equipment up very quickly and without anyone noticing, he could mow down all the RED's that try to attack from behind.
A short railing cuts off the battlefield from the hill. He could set up his dispenser there, giving his men shelter. If no Soldier of Demo came tumbling this way, they should be save. He pokes Pyro, and with sign language (other communication than gesticulation is not possible when standing next to a Heavy in action), he orders them to follow.
And they do, they sneak behind Medic and Heavy and up the small staircase, through a short corridor and outside, ducking their heads and staying close to the fence in case someone saw them sneaking past. Nobody does however. RED is frantically shooting every BLU away that dares to approach. Which is good, it gives them time, and Engineer calls only half as loud as usual “Dispenser goin' up.” tossing the box behind the fence, and the other against the wall.. Pyro keeps an eye on every movement that wasn't their own, here and there their finger would tense over the trigger of his flamethrower, ready to set ablaze whatever dares to approach them. The second the sentrygun is up and ready, it detects movements and shoots. It hits the enemies Scout, right through his skull.
“Whoo-wee.” Engineer smirks. Sometimes the blast of his own weaponry was even amazing himself. Pyro raises his thumb in his direction. Engineer grins.
“We doin' mighty fine, hoss--!”
Suddenly a black shadow flies over their heads and Engineer barely has time to draw his shotgun before it lands in the snowbank before them. Engineer raises his gun, and---
“Sal...good night Irene, ya scared me half ta death!” Engineer puffed out and lowers his gun. The smell of burned rubber and the silent hissing of fire extinguishing in the cold snow follows the man's heavy steps. He crouches next to the dispenser, the healing fumes lashing out and embracing him. He grunts, huffs, and then his eyes fall at both of them.
“How are we holdin' up?” he asks. “Ya got the Heavy down?”
He doesn't answer, only stares at the Pyro who holds his flamethrower ready and pointed at him, just in case. The wheels in his small, adrenaline numbed brain seem to move. His gaze wanders, to Engineer, to Pyro. To the Sentry, to the Dispenser. Then back to Engineer.
“What do you maggots think this is? A tea party?” He is up on his feet again, his rocket launcher strapped over his back so he can roll one hand in a fist, and the other point at both of them. “Pyro, I need you down there. Go, maggot!”
“Mhhphe?” Pyro cocks their head.
“You heard me, sheila! Get your sorry ass down there and help us capture!”
Pyro answers by pulling the trigger. The flames engulf the man's body, licking on his clothes and skin, but never did they set him ablaze. Both Pyro and Engineer were quite surprised to find that this was, indeed, their own Soldier. Soldier stares down at the few last flames that his clothes did catch and watch them die in the cold wind; he's silent for a while, dumbfounded, indignant...
“YOU DARE ACCUSE ME OF BEING A SPY?” he yells, shoving the flamethrower away from his face. “You set everyone on your team on fire, but you can't catch an actual Spy? You are dismissed, smoky joe!”
“Wait, Sal- Pyro did an excellent job.” he defended his friend. “Ah've been safer around ‘em than with–”
“Kid couldn't even catch one spy!” Soldier growls. This really was not the time to argue, especially not when the smoky voice of the Administrator was counting down from ten once more.
“Look, ya can't take ‘em away now, ah need someone spy-checkin'!”
“I will take care of this!” Soldier pushes Pyro away from his spot next to the “Hhu?” Pyro is utterly confused to find themselves dismissed and replaced– by Soldier, out of all people. “Now go, son! Go!”
“Wa-wa---Wait, Soldier, ya can't jus'--”
“THIS IS MY TEAM AND YOU WILL FOLLOW MY ORDERS!”
“Sal, look, ya can't spy check, that ain't your profession--”
“Killing frenchies IS my profession. And if it's not, IT WILL BE NOW!”
Soldier moves his rocketlauncher back on his shoulder. “Dismissed!”
Pyro looks at Engineer, and Engineer shrugs helplessly. Seems like Soldier wouldn't be ready to change his mind so quickly. With a muffled grumble, the firestarter turned around and headed into battle.
“Boy, I shoulda oughta beat ya like a rented mule!” Engineer growls at the rocketman.
“You can thank me later, professor.” Soldier mutters.
“Thank ya? For what? Ya leavin' ya team at their own and send Pyro away ta take your job? Sal, what's the matter with ya?”
“My orders are my own business, is that clear?”
That was ridiculous. Soldier knew, he knew that he was needed in the offense, not in defense! And Pyro was an excellent supporter when Engie was being harassed by the enemy’s turn-cloak.
Engineer watches as Pyro goes off, blasting away rockets and bombs, tagging along Heavy and Medic into the heat of battle - But the firestarter doesn't make it that far. The counter drops to zero again, and another boulder, this time much larger, came rolling down the mountain, smashing into the train. Shrapnel of shattered glass, rocks and bolts scattered in all directions. Where the hell do these dag-nabbin’ boulders come from?!
Pyro freezes up then, eyes to the sky– and is squashed by a large piece of rock. The bloodied nuzzle of his mask rolls down the hill, coming to a halt at Engie’s feet.
“Christ...!” Engie breathes.
“Pah, he gets up in less than ten seconds, anyway!” Soldier waved a dismissal with his hand. Pumped with adrenaline and bubbling anger, he can't stop his hand before it wracks down on Soldier's cheek.
“Ya sonuvabitch!” he howls. Soldier stares at him in utter astonishment at that back-hand. “Ya send the poor kid into battle and see what happened! Are ya happy now?”
Soldier still stares at him like he was facing George Washington himself. Did he... did he just dare to smack him?
“Soldier, go and capture!”
“Negatory!” Soldier roars.
“That is a darn-gosh-dagnabbit order, Sal!”
“YOU CANNOT DISTRIBUTE ORDERS,THAT IS MY JOB!”
“YA GETTING' US BOTH KILLED, YA DARN YANKEE!”
Soldier never got the chance to answer. With a yelp, he sees Engineer suddenly throwing himself into the snowbank as a rain of bombs crashes into his setup.
“Mah sentry!” Engineer whined as one of the bombs detonated and wrecked his machinery into bits.
The RED Demo guffawed with glee. “Yer goona have to glue that bra-washer back together, lad!”
Engie shook snow from his goggles. he saw the red silhouette of the Scotsman, approaching fast. Then a blue blur. Engie heard Demo’s startled gasp, the shatter of glass, clothes tearing – and then a gurgle as the shovelblade sunk into Demo’s skull. Soldier returns and holds out a hand to the fallen mechanic.
“Get up, sissy!” he growls, and Engineer clings to his calloused hand covered in Demo's blood, pulling himself back up on his feet.
Despite their teamwork, they were not moving forward. They lost time too quickly it seemed, boulders rolling down the mountains and crashing into the bomb every thirty seconds and by the looks of it, it was definitely close to either detonation, or completely useless for any usage anymore. RED's Heavy and Medic ubered and mowed down whatever came close.
“Crap!” Engineer hissed as he watches the fiasco down the hill. Looking at his watch, he realized with shock that they had less than two minutes left to capture, or neither the train, the cargo or his team would break through. “Hrrrm!” Engineer growls. His frustration was only growing the more Soldier was standing about, doing nothing but draw his gun and hold it up whenever he suspected movements. He oughta be at the front lines, helping – actually helping! Capturing the darn controlpoint!
“No spy around!” Soldier reported.
“Ain't that a miracle.”
“He's clever enough to not try any spook-business with me around.”
"Shut yer hole, darnit!" Engie hissed at him. "Ya wanna draw all their attention on us, boy?"
That was why he preferred Pyro at his side. They were quiet, docile, and if need be, they could comunicate with signs. Soldier was loud and boisterous, and if he didn't keep his voice down they would surely -
“Control point unprotected!!” Soldier declares, loudly.
Heck it!
"Those pantsies better get to it!" Soldier growls, watching the point like a hawk. "I shall go and guard the teleporter! You, Private toymaker, will stay right here, where I can see -!!"
Engie was gone.
Soldier stiffened, spinning around in alarm. Spy? Had one of those french bastards snuck into their nest and dragged the tinkerer away?
"Damn it!" he snarls, and draws his shovel. No trace of any intruder. Instead, he heard a gasp, a curse, noticably of Texan quality. Soldier wheeled around, the straps of his helmet swinging.
“Engie!” Soldier yells, watching the shorter man scooting down the dune of snow and towards the last, unprotected control point. Maggot! Did he not know how WEAK he was and how STRONG Red was once it tumbled out of respawn?!“Return this instant, private!” Soldier runs after the mechanic.
“We gotta cap, Sal!” Engineer calls, running as fast as his shoes can carry him through twelve inches of snow.
He hears Soldier following him, shout expletives. Engineer tumbles, half-walking, half-rolling down the bank of snow, stirring up a fine white cloud of mist. He comes to a halt by the train rails, and fighting against a sudden violent gust of wind blowing more snow into his face, he slips and falls onto the platform.
The Administrator loudly proclaims over the speakers into the RED's respawn that their last control point is being captured. Engineer stares at the counter.
“C'mon, c'mon...” he mutters. One person capturing is taking a whole lot of time. If Soldier wouldn’t hurry up already -!
“Engineer, you get off that point this instant!” Soldier growls, trips, rolls through the snow and lands with a thud on the floor. He shakes himself down like a wet dog.
“Jus' ten more seconds, Sal, help me!”
“You are not obligated to capture!!” Soldier yells now, furious, as he gets back on his feet. “If you know what’s good for you, you get your sorry ass back behind your goddamn machinery!”
“Dang-nabbit Sal!” Engie slams his fist down on the ground. He hears the shutter of the RED’s spawn point slide open.
“THAT IS AN OR--!”
Soldier’s lungs deflated.
Behind the Texan, a figure materialized, arm raised, a shining blade in his hand and a shit-eating grin sprawled over the masked face.
“Spy!!” Soldier yells. The sentry gun bleeps frantically. Engineer just has enough time to cast a confused gaze at the military man and begin to turn as a sudden ice-cold sting pierces through his body. The blade sinks through skin and muscles and flesh, grazes bones and cartilages, and penetrates his lung. Engineer cries out, every power sucked from his body as he slumps down.
He couldn’t see anything. Didn't see the moment he collapses on the hard cold metallic platform a gush of blood bursting from his lips, didn't see the rocket flying and exploding. Didn’t notice the fine rain of blood on his face.
He doesn't see or feel Soldier slumping to his knees and gripping his shoulders, shaking him, propping him up, calling for medic.
“Don't you die on me, you goddamn cow-herding Canadian!” Soldier rumbles.
Engie opens his mouth. Tries to speak.
Blood fill his lungs. Breathing hurt. Speaking hurt. Moving his hand that grips on Soldier's shoulder hurts. A calloused, oddly warm hand tilts his head up to look into his eyes beneath the helmet. He sees the man talking to him, his lips moved, but he hears nothing. He doesn't hear the Administrator announcing their victory, and doesn't see the train breaking through the last barricade, doesn't witness the bomb being carried through a narrowed dark tunnel. Doesn’t notice the pandemonium of cheers and flying bullets around him.
He doesn't notice any of it. He’s already dead.
Chapter 4: Misconceiving
Summary:
Warning: Very gay and weird NSFW ahead.
Chapter Text
“Sniper, noo!” Medic rebuked. “Feet off zhe table! Ve vant to keep zhis place clean, it's not ours after all – and stop drilling your knife into zhe surface!”
Sniper snarled darkly under his breath, but unceremoniously removes his legs from the desk and places the knife back into its holster at his belt.
“Pyro, please put zhe cutlery into zhe Schublade, eh...drawers, ja? And Scout, vould you put zhe laundry into zhe washer, please?”
“Oh, c'mon, why me?”
“Because I ask you nicely.” medic said with the placicity of a man that's gone through this conversation a thousand times. "And because you skipped laundry duty last time."
Scout scoffs “Fine, MOM!” Scout groused and picked up the basket filled to the brim with shirts and pants and socks soaked with sweat and blood. "Ugh, this stinks!" Scout grumbled, scurring off to the wash rooms.
“Demo, be a sveetheart and help Heavy vith bedmaking. I'm not sure he can get it done on his own vith... vell, he has large hands.” The german quickly set the birdcage between Spy and Sniper on the table and opened the hatch. Archimeded hopped out, shaking its plummage. It sprayed a splash of bird poop on Snipers newspaper.
“Oh, I'm so sorry, mein liebling Archimedes, did zhe journey bore you much? Did you miss daddy much?” The bird gently bobbed up and down on the doctor’s finger, purring and cooing up a storm, rubbing his feathered hea against the doctor’s cheek. Medic cooed right back at his little feathered friend. Scout rolled his eyes and made a fake gagging sound.
“Daddy promises he’ll take you with him in zhe cabin vhen ve go home.”
“Ees bird okay?” Heavy asks. He knows how much the pigeons mean to the German. They were his anchor, his most beloved ones. If something would happen to them, to his precious pets, especially Archimedes, that's it, he'd be done. Not even a medigun would fix that hole in his heart then.
Medic chuckles softly. “Ja, ja, just a little clingy, it seems.”
“Must have bored bird very much.” Heavy concluded.
"Must've been car sick," Sniper grumbled and tossed his soiled newspaper into the trash.
But preparations doesn't leave much time for Medic to comfort his dove, he sees as Pyro sets each cutlery neatly on fire, before placing it in the drawers.
“Pyro, noo!” Medic cried out and quickly disposed the mess the firebug started in the kitchen.
This base was small, sparingly furnished, and derelicted for at least five years. The tap groaned when they turned on the water, a brown sludge spewing, before clear water followed.
They had a tiny kitchen, and one simple table that worked for dinner, battle preparations and poker. And remembering how messy the merc’s left the play-table after playing poker all night, it wouldn't surprise him if they would find pokerchips in their food. But the probably biggest problem wasn't the small environment, or the fact that this little facility was definitely not made for nine fully grown men.
They had, in fact, two problems.
First one was the bathroom. It was one. One bathroom, with one shower. And after their more or less successful mission, everyone just hoped for a nice relaxing shower to brush off the sweat and blood from their exhausted bodies. It was an utter mess, deciding who was allowed to go first and who the last. And who was more willing to shower with all the warm water already gone.
And Engineer needed a hot shower. His last respawn felt like a terrible hangover.
The second problem was the sleeping arrangements. The rooms were tiny. And as far as the mercenaries could judge as they opened the doors, none of them was heated. Why in heavens name would someone build a base in the middle of nowhere, in a land of snow and ice, and then forget to heat the place properly? Not only that, but seeing as space was rare down here, they were not going to indulge in the luxury of single bed rooms.
It certainly was no problem for Medic and Heavy, they could certainly share a room, as they usually did. And Engineer had hoped to be the lucky one to share his room with Pyro, so they could keep them warm. But for Scout and Spy and Sniper, it was a nightmare. All three appreciated the minimal privacy they still had, living with the rest of the team. And the idea of sharing it with a crazed war veteran or drunken Scotsman was certainly too much.
“Let's draw lots.” Sniper suggested, wrote their names on cards and shuffled them inside his hat. He drew Pyro. Sniper's tanned face grew a little pale at that, but the firebug giggled happily, and dragged Sniper by his hand towards the next door, locked it, followed by deathly silence. Only god knew what was going on behind that door.
"Well. Cannot be worse zhan zat." Spy drew Demo.
“Ay, ow'laddy!” Demo slurred and swung his arm around the slender frame of the Frenchman. Spy looked like he had bitten into a lemon. "Merde."
"Aw, what's the matta, tough guy?" Scout sneered. "Couldn't get any worse, ya said? Haha!"
Scout's eyes popped open when his hand retreated from the hat. "Whu--? No! Agh, absolutely freakin not!!" he tossed the card aside, like it had caught on fire. Spy laughed. Demo laughed. Scout stared at the Spy's neat handwriting in horror.
"Ayy, we goona have us sum foon tenight!" Demo slurred, throwing his free arm around Scout.
This was hell, they thought, simultaneously.
Engineer wasn't very happy with his drawn either. He had Heavy. And Medic even made a startled “Ach!” sound as he drew Soldier.
Soldier stared at his own card, long and hard. “Question,” he raised his hand. “There is no person with the name Cidem in this base.”
Medic rolled his eyes, grabbed the Soldier’s card, and flipped it.
Soldier cringed. “The Fritz?!” he asked, incredulously.
Heavy stares at Engineer's card, rumbling a low, thoughtful “Hm”-sound.
“Dis should vork.” he says then. Engineer plays with the idea of asking Medic to switch their roommates, judging by his “help-me-i'm-dying-here”-gaze he throws at the tinkerer, but Heavy is fine with it, Heavy likes his new freshly announced roommate, and as long as Heavy is okay with the situation, everyone around him was obligated to agree with him. He grabbed his huge suitcase and threw it in the last room far at the end of the corridor, claiming it as theirs before anybody else could.
“Ve sleep here.” he says gruffly.
“Guess we’re sleepin’ here.” Engineer says meekly, and followed Heavy's example in preparing their beds for the night.
The sun outside hadn’t risen once today, and the entirety of the fight had been plunged in semi-darkness. The northern parts of the globe tended to do that, Heavy had explained.”Eef lucky, ve see aurora borealis.”
It’s finally Engineers turn to shower. The water is luke-warm at best, luckily Pyro had showered before him and probably heated up the cold water for their taste.
He feels freshened up at least, but utterly exhausted; and remembering he was spending a night with a man he had more respect towards than any of the team members - which meant quite a lot for the man who befriended Soldier – he felt even more drained.
And god, that darn scar on his back was stinging. Usually, bruises from battle would have either faded by now or healed. This one was nasty though. It was barely closed, and blood oozed from it sometimes when Engine through respond. This one was persistent, though. Hopefully, Engineer deliberates while putting on his shirt and slipping into much more comfortable pants, it wouldn't get infected. Or had Spy coated the blade with some kind of poison that decelerates the healing process?
The shuffles of heavy boots and the sudden white-coated wall in front of Engineer's eyes after exiting the bathroom caught him off guard and out of his thoughts. He looked up and sees a helmeted face stare down at him with his earmarking scowl.
“Hell! Sal. Ya gotta stop sneakin' up on me like that.” Engineer puffed. “This old fella's heart ain't the fittest anymore.”
“You left some warm water? Or did you take too long shaving your legs, sissy?”
Soldier had a towel draped over his neck and the blue blood-soaked coat was gone from his shoulders. The helmet stayed.
“Err, well, ya can ask Pyro ta heat it up for ya.” he suggested. Upon hearing the firebugs name, Soldier seemed to quickly re-think the idea of choosing the cold water rather than getting into his way.
“Pah, you princesses are all the same. Uhh, the water's too cold. Uhh, the water's too hot.” here, Soldier had changed his raspy gruff voice into a mockingly high-pitched girly tone, as he pushed past Engineer. “A real man takes what he gets. And if I am left with nothing but iceblocks to clean myself, then I WILL take them, and I will LIKE it!”
“Well, ya can ask medic ta thaw yer up when ya done with ice-dippin' when ya two git to y'alls room.”
Soldier's already earnest expressions darkened. “I'm not going to share a room with that kraut.” he says.
“And why is that?”
"I'm American."
"And?"
“Well -This is America, and I am going to share a room with an American!”
“Sal, first'o'all – we're in Canada. Second; it's either Medic, or sleepin' outside in the snow.”
“Then I shall sleep in the snow.”
"Shucks," Engie dragged his hand down his face. Oh lord. Not this. "So yer gon' go and freeze ya nuts off instead of sharing quarters with him, am I hearin' yer right?"
“You cannot trust him, Engie! He's European!"
"The hell does that even mean, Sal?"
"He's gonna insert some prezel-serum into my veins when I'm asleep that's gonna turn me into a goddamn bavarian that loves beer and oktoberfest, and then what? I'm going to run around in Lederhosen?”
“Soldier...” Engineer raised his fingers in warning. Nope. They’re not having that argument tonight.
“No Sir, over my cold dead body. I am an American in a free country and I am going to share my room with a red-blooded all American fellow.”
“Ya do realize that Scout's already assigned to a room, yeah?”
“Who says I was talking about that beanpole, Tex?”
Oh. Of course.
“Well, Sal, if ya suggestion ya gonna switch me with Medic – I'm not so sure if Heavy's gonna be happy about that?”
“And why not? He gets his 'Herr Doktor' to play around with and I get you.”
“Because I already tried to talk it outta Heavy, and he ain't to fond of sudden changes in his plans, ya know?”
“Oh really? Hah! Stars and stripes are gonna beat hammer and chisel! Taking you for hostage? I'd like to see him try.”
“Gosh, ain’t yer just keen to have me all for yer own,” Engie crossed his arms. “First Pyro, now this?”
Soldier had the decency to look caught.
“P-Pyro is weak! He… or she, or, IT hasn't caught one Spy this mission! Not a single one! That kid wouldn't see a spy if he was standing right IN FRONT of them! That duty fell upon ME alone, while Smokey Joe kept on dying from some wussy rocks! HAH! I'd say, they have grown old of his position next to your sentry. That kid needs to feel the real war. They gotta learn to fight, like men do! Like I do! From now on, I'm going to take over their task and secure your sentry, and they’re going to take over my place. A certain HONOR, if I do say so myself. There aren't many people I would trust to fill in my position.”
Suddenly, his brain had a little click-moment. Engineer would have laughed, if it wasn't ridiculous enough thinking such about a man like him. Like Soldier. But it all added up. It all added up perfectly and Engineers lips curled into a smirk at the realization.
“Say, Sal...if I wouldn't know it any better, I'd almost say ya jealous?”
Soldier froze once again. His posture stiffens like he just heard the utterly worst insult towards America a human being could say into his face. He turns his head to look over his shoulders. It takes a second or two, before Soldier gathers himself. Bingo.
“Negatory.” he says then.
“Oh, ya sure about that?”
“Affirmative.”
“Affirmative my foot, Sal.”
“Y-You little maggot DARE thinking I'm jealous?”
“Yep.” Engineer's grin widens. “I'm pretty sure ya damn piss-jealous I'm spendin' more time with Pyro and praise ‘em a damn lot. That's why ya dismissed ‘em. Ya wanted me ta laud ya like ah'm laudin' Pyro, all along, now didn't ya?”
Soldier fixated him with drawn up lips, an expression of deep contempt. “I gotta hand it to you, professor – you've got some big mouth for someone hiding behind his little toys all day.”
“And I'm pretty sure ya wouldn't want Heavy ta have me all for himself, yeah? Oh, I'm pretty sure ya jealous a'right. Ya eyes are all green of jealousy.”
“I NEITHER NEED YOUR STUPID HIPPY-PRAISES NOR DO I CARE IF YOU SPEND THAT NIGHT IN THE PRESENCE OF THAT ROTTEN SPUTNIK!” Soldier bellows through the hallway. It's a testament of Engineer obvious fortitude that the tinkerer doesn't even flinch at the deafening volume.
Soldier's face is flushed, either from embarrassment or from the strength it took him to roar that loud and not even being rewarded with a shriek, a cringe or an expression of fear. No, Engineer just stands there and smirks. After a few more moments, Soldier straightens his posture again, chest heaving lungsful of air inside. He reminded Engie of a vexed bull, puffing and huffing.
“You think I won’t dare to share my living quarters with the Kraut? You think I’m too weak to share my living quarters with the Kraut?”
Not really.
“Pretty much,” Engie replied.
Soldier looked like he was going to combust.
“I will share my quarters with the Kraut-maggot, and if it's the last thing I'm going to do! You will see, you greasy fruitpie! Me, jealous? HAH! And besides - My eyes are NOT GREEN!”
It's late at night and Engineer can't sleep. No, it's not only because Heavy is sleeping in the bed next to him and snoring louder than an old tractor. It's also the fact that the bed he is lying inside is too cramped and the springs wheeze and creak under his weight whenever he moves even slightly. And, especially the fact that Heavy had taken Engineer's blanket without even so bothering to ask beforehand, just so his beloved gun Sasha had it warm in the night.
He didn't dare to remove it. Heavy was a light sleeper. And if he would find out Engineer takes the comfort from his gun away in order to warm himself, it might be his last wrong decision.
“Ya chucklenuts better pull on sum' two pairs'a'socks.” Scout had proclaimed after watching the news on the tiny television. “It's getting' fresh outside. 12 degrees maximum.”
“And minimum?” Soldier asked.
“Sumthin' 'round six?”
“Celsius or Fahrenheit?” Demo asked, with more than half of the crew looking up expectantly.
“The heck is a ‘Celsius’?” Scout shrugged.
Engineer felt them. Oh did he feel those twelve degrees. He wore two shirts plus a sweatjacket, and he was still shaking. Even if he could wrap himself up in a blanket, Heavy’s enormous vocal cords were still vibrating like the engine of a chainsaw. Engineer tried. He tried falling asleep, tried forcing himself to close his eyes and endure it.
C'mon, Conagher, you have had it worse, he reminds himself.
But his body is restless. His mind is restless. He looks over to the watch and tries to make out the time in the darkness, illuminated by nothing but the lights of the moon.
It's 2 am something. He groans, flops back into his bed, and even that seemed to rattle Heavy temporarily out of his slumber.
He snorts, murmured something in Russian and then continued to sleep soundly with his arm draped over his gun.
How in heaven's name does Medic live with that noise? Most of the times these two shared their living quarters and Medic had to be partially deaf. At breakfast, doc always looked relaxed, happy, fresh and well-rested.
I should've just switched with Medic to begin with, he thought.
He forces himself out of his bed, trying to make as little noise as possible as he throws on his cardigan, and then tip-toes to the door. He opens it only a tad wide and slips out and into the bright corridor. To his surprise, he finds Medic, clutching his pillow to his chest and glasses in his hand, closing the door to his own domicile. They recognize each other.
“Oh...Err. Guten Abend, Herr Engineer.”
“'Tis a bit late ta run around the base on ya own, ain't it, doc?” Engineer offers a weak smile. He can surely imagine why Medic had fled his bed.
“Ach...Soldier is keeping me avake. He keeps telling me he isn't going to fall asleep before I do. And even if I do, he vill stay avake so I von't inject...some...oh, I don't know.” Medic rubs his temples.
“Prezel-serum?” Engineer asks.
“Ja, genau.” Medic rolled his eyes. “And he keeps trying to catch poor Archimedes.”
As if on command, the dove peeked his head over the medic's shoulder. “He has done nozhing to deserve zhis. Now did you my little sunshine? Nein, you didn't, no no.” Medic cooed and rubbed his cheek against the birds head. Engineer arched an eyebrow.
“Err, y'know, Soldier ain't too fond of birds. He's scared of 'em.”
“Ach, nobody needs to be afraid of my little Archimedes.” Medic clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Vhat about you, Dell?”
“Ah...well...Heavy's got some mighty set of lungs.”
Medic sighed. “Ze snoring, ja? I assume he took your blanket avay too?”
“How did'cha know?”
“Sasha. Ach, I could never talk him out of zis behavior. Sasha needs good rest too, he says.”
They shared a small chuckle. A knowing glance, a nod, and the deal was made.
“Hope you get some rest. Good luck.” Medic gave him an amiable pat on the shoulder, before vanishing in Heavy’s domicile, Archimedes in tow.
Compared to Heavy's domiciles, the lights were still on in Soldier's room. And, compared to Heavy, Soldier was wide awake. A shotgun clutched to his chest, he sits on his bed and seems to be alert and ready in case one of the fluttering white bird monsters would dare to cross his path again. His head his tilted upwards, his helmet sways with every jerk of his neck.
“HALT!” he calls, shotgun raised into his direction. Engineer flinches and presses his finger to his lips.
“Shh! Quiet, ya motherhubbin'---!”
“FRIEND OR FOE?”
“Dagnabbit, Sal!” Engineer swiftly closes the door behind him, just so the rest of the team wouldn't wake up from the booming in Soldier's voice.
“The whole base is sleepin', ya dumbass! Quit that shoutin', will ya--?”
Soldier still holds the gun up to his face.
“Prove that you're not a spy, you french barguette-inhaler!”
Oh boy, here we go…
“America is the greatest, America is the best. Praise America, I hate Paris and slugs and I'm not a crouton.” Engineer speaks with a lack of enthusiam. "Good enough fer ya?"
“Spoken like a true patriot.” Soldier grunts, and rests the gun on the bed. “What are you doing here?” he asks. “And where did Anne Frank go?”
“Ya bullied him away, Sal.”
“Bully him? Hah! That Fritz just can't handle true patriotism!” Soldier crosses his arms in over his chest.
Engineer ignored him and settled into the new room. Medic had abandoned his utensils, several glasses of medi-fluid, his bonesaw, a golden cage, his gloves and uniform hanging from the open wardrobe. Soldier’s side of the room was cleaner, tidier, his clothes neatly folded and ready for use come morning.
“Medic told me ye’ve been spooked a mighty sum by his dove?”
“I don't like that bird.” Soldier commented sternly. “It keeps staring at me.”
“Worry none, Soldier-boy. Medic took him over to Heavy's.”
“That's good, very good, otherwise I would have taken that little rat with wings and plucked every feather, one by one, off of that filthy ---”
“Soldier, did you drink the medi-fluids?” Engineer noticed two empty jar next to the soldier’s bed, residue of blue liquids gathering at the rim.
“Security control, hardhat! It could have been poison. Or, the prezel-serum I told you about.”
“Dagnabbit Soldier, these weren't for you!” Engineer groans and rubs his forehead.
“It tasted like honey! It could have been honey, for crying out loud! How should I have known?” Soldier defended himself.
“Boy, first of all – Honey ain't blue. And it ain't glowin' in the dark, now does it? Besides –!“
Engie stopped his explanation as his eyes threatened to close on him. Darn, he needed to sleep, and quickly. He suppressed a yawn.Well, he may be stuck with the rambling patriot - But at least, he has a blanket now. With a blissful sigh, Engineer wraps himself into the blanket and closes his eyes. The light on the table is irritating, but he doesn't say anything about it. He's tired. He's cold. And he just wants to sleep.
“What do you think you're doing, maggot?” Soldier hisses nevertheless. “This is Medic's bed! You have your OWN bed!”
“Didn'tcha listen ta what I jus' said?” he mutters. “Medic's at Heavy now. He lets me stay here.”
He hopes that ends the discussion, but it doesn't.
“So the coward has ultimately retreated, yes? Hah, I should have known!”
“Sal...”
“A true man never backs off, even in the face of reality. If I would have---”
“Sal.” Engineer says. His voice is a warning, enough sharpness recognizable for Soldier that if he uttered one more word, he would witness texas' ugly side.
Soldier closes his mouth.
“Jus' go ta sleep, Sal. We've got a long day tomorrow, hm? Wouldn't want'cha ta fall asleep on me guardin' mah sentry.” Engineer murmurs. Man, he really had to give his apologies to Pyro come morning.
But if this is what it takes for Soldier to be quiet, he’d promise the Commando a permanent place at his Sentries’ side. Soldier placed the tattered copy of Art of War by Sun Tzu and shotgun on the floor, and did as the tinkerer did, switching off the little light on the table and nestle his body into the sheets. The room finally fills with silence.
And in the silence, Engineer lets his mind wander.
First it’s just some petty topics, what he's going to wear tomorrow, what the mission will bring them. He heard tomorrow’s battlefield would be set at an old factory behind the mountain they faced from their cab. What would await them? And where to put his sentry up – and would Soldier stay at his side again and defend with him like he said he would? Engineer turns around to face Soldier lying on the other side of the room. Should he dare to thank him? Thank him for helping him today?
He always assumed Soldier really didn’t want compliments or gratitude. Perhaps he was one of those people that didn’t really know what to do with it.
But then again…
‘You want me to laud you like I’m lauding Pyro,’ he had said. And Soldier denied it so vehemently, it was laughably obvious.
He’ll get his flowers when he proves himself out there, tomorrow.
The rooms is silent and Engineer falls asleep eventually. Not for long however, as he wakes up and feels cold again. God, how he hated missions in the cold areas. Barnblitz. Coldfront. Viaduct. They were a goddamn nightmare, especially when their domiciles were dilapidated and the heater was broken.
Engineer groans softly, curling up further, fighting the involuntary chattering of his teeth. If only he had drawn Pyro’s name from that stupid hat!
He hears a shuffle of sheets across the room.
“Are you cold?” Soldier asks.
Engineer raises his head. “Ah...sorry hoss, did I wake ya up?”
“I asked you a question first.” Soldier is wide awake. In the dimmed moonlight, he sees the harsh contours of his angular face that stares at him skeptically. “Are you cold?” he repeats.
Engineer hunches his shoulder. “Well, it ain’t particularly tropical in here, huh?”
Soldier moves out of his bed and grabs his blanket. He drapes it over Engineer's trembling body, before returning to his side of the room, clad in just his undershirt and woolen pants
“Now sleep.”
“Wha---Now hold on there, mister.” Engineer sits up, looking between the man across the room and the second blanket now draped over Engie’s legs. “Ya can't jus' gimme your blanket. What about you?”
“The weather has no control over me or my body.” Soldier grunts raucously. He swivels his body on the cod. “There’s much to do tomorrow. Get some rest.”
Engineer doesn't feel all too happy even though warmth slowly begins to seep into his bones. He watches the man, his back turned to him, the even rise and fall of his chest with every breath he drew. Mot long after, he noticed the man trying, but failing, to suppress the first shudders raking his body.
“In tarnation's name.” he mutters, grabs the blankets and moves over to Soldier's bedside. He drapes the blankets over the Soldier’s body, and with a grunt, settles into the narrow space of the matrress, his side pressed into Soldier’s sturdy back.
It's a bold move and hell, if he wasn't so damn tired, he would have tried to find an alternative way, but he just wanted to get some darn sleep now.
Soldier moves his head to face the man in agonizingly slowness.
“You better explain yourself right now, before I snap your goddamn neck.”
“Well, y'see, in times of great duress, sometimes it makes sense to, err, 'share warmth'."
Soldier's mind rattled like an old engine, the cogs turning.
“You are suggesting to cuddle?” he sounded less outraged than Engie had expected.
“Ain’t no cuddlin’ happening. Unless yer wanna wake up with pneumonia, I suggest yer shut it now before I change my mind.”
“I am NOT going to cuddle with you, you greasy fruitbasket!” Soldier moves away from Engineer. “This is MY Bed. You have your own. And you better return to yours this instant before I push you into your own grave.”
“Stubborn like a rented mule, ain'tcha, Soldier-boy.” he mutters. He snatches the Soldier by his hip and draws him in again, his arm draping around the man's large body and closing the gap between their bodies. Soldier twists in his grasp.
“Let go!” Soldier growls.
“Nope.” Engineer hums.
“That is an ORDER!!”
“Nope”
“IF YOU KNOW what's…!” Soldier's voice dies down as warmth began to build up beneath the blanket. The Soldier squirms and shifts a little under Engie’s grip. He growled a few times, mutters under his breath. But eventually, he does what a self-respecting man like he would do – he gives in.
The tinkerer smirks. Gotta be the unmanliest thing on earth, but heck it!
“FINE, you NANCE. We are going to cuddle.” Soldier grunts, turning his back to the other again. “But we will cuddle like men do!”
“Mh-hm...” Engineer mutters. He rests his face against the man's lats and rasps his unshaven jaw against the rough fabric of his shirt. This is how men cuddle, then, huh?
Men don’t cuddle, he figured.
Then again, men don't go around and kiss other men either, like Soldier had done.
Engie hadn’t had much time to ponder on it. He wondered if this was just port of Soldier-esque antics he shouldn’t put too much thought or emotion on. Maybe he does that with everyone, occasionally? The idea of Soldier going about the base giving everyone a complementary smack on the lips for a job well done was both hilarious – and odd.
Odd?
Why odd, Conagher? Hm?
Was it odd to you because it was just odd, or because the idea of the man going about and smooching any random person within reach makes you…jealous?
He wanted to laugh and then slap himself.
What the heck has gotten into him? And what the heck has gotten into Soldier? The sudden interest in training the tinkerer, the clumsy attempts at what Engie guessed was bonding, the insistence taking over Pyro’s position at Engie’s side on the battlefield.
Maybe he’s lonely, he thought. Maybe he desperately needs a friend.
Friendship was a dangerous thing among the mercs. Soldier learned this the hard way, once before.
If I’m not careful, I’ll be next, he warned himself.
“Solly...?” he mutters after a while, when he is sure the Soldier is already fast asleep. But he isn't, and he turns slightly, head tilted over his shoulder.
“Jus' wanted ta thank ya for t'day.” he mutters. “For uh, defendin' me out there. Fer getting’ that Spah, too.”
Engineer itched at the stinging slash in his back.
“Don't mention it, private.” Soldier chuffed, turning around again.
“No, I mean it, really. If ya hadn’t taken care of that Demo, I doubt we would’ve made it today. Red’s gotta be pretty pissed.”
Soldier says nothing. For a second he believes he had fallen asleep, but he hears him puff out a sigh through his nostrils and knows he is still awake and...waiting for something. Engineer knows exactly what.
“Ah, well, err...I should have told'cha long before, but – ya did some mighty fine job out there, pardner.”
It seems like that feeds the Soldier's ego well enough. He chuckles in his throat, a low 'hmm-hmm' before he adds: “I know that, maggot.”
Not even close to a thank you. But it’ll do.
Engineer closes his eyes again, inhales Soldier's scent, a strange but pleasant mingle of gunpowder, aftershave and leather, and closes his eyes again a second time.
Until he feels the man shift again and his cheek meets warm, exposed skin. Engie opens his eyes anew and lifts his head.
Soldier’s shirt had drawn down enough to expose the thick canvas of the other’s nape. Sturdy through ages of carrying heavy artillery, it was just as firm with muscles as the rest of him.
Scars littered the tan skin. Big, small, white lines of deep gashes in all shapes and forms. There’s a long one that draws up to the base of the man’s head. The short, dusty blonde hair that ought to grow there was gone. Instead, the pale ravine extended from up there and down his body and vanishing somewhere along his shoulder blades. Part of his left ear was gone.
Must’ve been an axe, Engie thought. Or Demo’s sword.
It must have hurt. Hurt a damn much.
Drowsiness made his head mush, and he hooked his finger into the collar to draw his shirt down further, peering at the skin below. It was like a landmark of injuries, some healed up better than others. Some were rather fresh. Maybe from this morning. Some were ancient.
The one running along his nape must’ve been somewhere in the middle.
I have to sleep, he tells himself, eyes threatening to fall close again, when his hand comes to a rest at the Soldiers nape, absent-mindedly running his index across the scar, along the short, cropped hair, feeling it bristle against his palm -
He hears the other inhale suddenly. Sharply. He turns at an alarming speed. Engineer lets go of him instantly. They stare at each other, only mere inches between their faces. Soldier’s breath comes in warm, quick puffs that brush over Engie’s nose. He’s wide awake now.
“I-I’m…err,” Engineer's mouth opens and closes again. “I'm sorry, I...”
Soldier's face hardly softened at his words – he stares back at the man in a mixture of surprise and confusion . And then, Soldier suddenly lifts his hand, grabs the Engineer by his arms, and there is a shift in the bed. Engineer finds himself gasping, pressed against the mattress hard, face buried in the pillows and Soldier leaning on top of him.
“Soldier, what---?” Engineer tries to pry himself away from the man and sit up, but a hand roughly closes around the back of his head and pressed him down again. A sense of sudden fear flooded his mind.
What was he doing?
Was he going to hurt him?
Or, worst of all – could it be a Spy?
Cloaked as a Soldier and simply waiting for his chance to strike?
The tinkerer stiffens in fright, waiting for the Soldier's next move. Frantic fingers pulled on his shirts, pushed them over his body. Fuck – The man on top of him WAS a spy! No doubt. They had let in an intruder. And he would kill him, then the others, in the dead of night, when respawn was deactivated for the day.
The man atop him had completely immobilized him, he struggled against Soldiers weight and grip at his wrists but the more he moved, the deeper Soldier pressed him into the sheets.
It doesn't happen as Engineer feared though.
Soldier pushed Engineer's shirts up and over his shoulder. His back is exposed and instantly prickled with gooseflesh. There, the Soldier stops. Inspecting, it seemed.
Engineer holds his breath. A gentle, touch scoots over his neck and down his spine, tracing the same scar he had done, back then in the washrooms. Traced the same scars, brushing over them in silent awe, paying particular attention to the fresh, new remnants from today's battle on top of his neck. Fingers are replaced with the sharp edge of teeth, scratching along the skin there. Engineer arches into the touch with surprise and sensory overload.
“Soldier...?” he breathes.
“Those damn spies.” he hears him snarl against his shoulder, the hairs on his neck standing at full attention.
“It ain't that bad, Sal.” Engineer speaks, and finds his voice oddly calm, now that he realized the man atop was most definitely not a Spy. Still, he was highly aware of the solid wall of muscles pressing down on him.
“Does this still hurt...?” Soldier asks, exhaling damp and warm breath over the small hairs on his nape. Engineer's breath hitches in his throat.
“N-Nope...can't say it does. At least not anymore now.” a shy smile slinks its way on his face. Soldier grumbles and murmurs something. His hands, close to each side of Engineer's head, bend a little and he feels him press down further, slotting his chest with Engie’s bare back. “I am going to make sure... myself ...that no spy will dare to put a hand on you again ...” he growls, lowly, into his ear shell. A shudder of fear, ( or…fuck, was it arousal? ) trembled through Engie’s body.
“Heh...ain't that mighty kind of ya?” he drawls.
He lets the wave of relief wash over his mind that he wasn't going to ultimatively be stabbed and die by the hand of a cloaked spy, and Soldiers dark, deep breaths brushing over his skin and into his bones, making his limbs shudder. Pleasantly. Tingles of excitement rolling down his skin -
Darn.
Darn, darn, darn.
Didn’t he plan on getting this sorted out? Find a bar, find a chick, bang it out. Fuck away his memories of Soldier’s heated skin on his and large, muscled arms encasing him snugly and securely. Fuck away the urge to touch and be touched after years of nothing but work.
Fuck away the idea that this was just a passing thing and it was definitely not some sort of awakening that Engie could not believe was happening to him. Now. At the half-way point of his life.
And with him, of all people?
Engie twists underneath Soldier's body to look up at him. Helmet on, even during resting hours, Soldier’s face was covered in shadows. But he could still see his eyes. They seemed uncertain and his jaw tense, and his shoulders taut, and he looked more anxious or confused than anything else, and –
Engie exhaled, slowly.
To hell with it.
He places his hand on Soldier’s nape, and gives it a little tug. Lips crashed together, clumsily and awkwardly. It takes some maneuvering, before Engie has his slotted into Soldier’s that feels just right.
He hears Soldier give a comfortable moan as Engie moved his mouth along his. They break apart shortly after and Engineer grinned "Was that yer first kiss?" he asked.
Soldier looked away, and doesn't say a word. Either in anger, or shame, or perhaps in sudden doubt, but hell no, Engie was not gonna let him get away that easily now. He craned his head up and catches the man’s mouth again. When Soldier finally reciprocates, its wilder than before, lips savaging each other, teeth grazing and nibbling and tongues playing, and it takes Engineer a considerable amount of willpower to draw away for breath.
“Now ya gotta explain me why ya been doin' this, mister...” Engineer mutters. His voice is soft and small.
“Do what?”
“The whole kissin' me deal in the shower and all. That ain't nothin' ya should do on every random guy ya meet.”
“I ... I am not here to answer questions.” he growls against the Engineer's mouth. It involuntarily makes him shudder a little. He presses them together once again and robs Engineer of any sneer he could have prepared.
He feels those sturdy arms crawl beneath his form and the mattress and claw at his skin, short clipped nails drawing lines up and down his sides. Engineer hears himself moan into Soldier's throat at the sensual feeling, and returns it, now fully succumbing to his kisses and touches, his arms looping around his neck and grabbing his terribly thin shirt and tugging on it. Soldier stops a little confused.
“What do you think you're doing?” he snarls deep and breathy.
“Sharin' warmth.” is Engineer's sneaky answer and he pulls it out of the seams of his sweatpants and over his body, pushing it over his shoulders.
“You're way out of line, cowboy,” Soldier rasps. “I didn't give you permission to undress me.”
“Boy, ya better get that darn thing off now or imma beat the livin' daylight outta ya!”
Soldier’s jaw snapped shut. Engie helped him ride the shirt up and over his body and then discard it somewhere in the room, his fingers reaching out and feeling hot, bare, furred skin on his palms. Soldier’s stomach cringes as Engie slips his hands lower – darn his cold fingers! He just couldn’t help it. Once he had given in, it was like a dam breaking, and now he couldn’t get enough. Soldier was a beast in the flesh, firm, broad, strong, covered in a fine film of sweat, and he just had to taste. Engie lowered his head in the crook of Soldier’s shoulder and inhaled, and kissed, and when he nibbled teasingly at the skin there, he could swear the man above him was struggling to suppress the noises of surprise and appreciating.
A stray hand found its way beyond Soldier’s sweatpants, catching the fabric of the man's underear, moving lower - The man above him tenses, then freezes. His hand snaps down and takes a vice grip of ENgie's wrist, stilling him.
Uh oh. Had he just killed the mood?
Without forewarning, the Engineer is suddenly flipped around with Soldier pressing him into the mattress with his chest and burying his face in his neck, growling against his skin. Engineer melts against the warm wall of muscles and chest hair and hums satisfied into the mattress, followed by a gasp when Soldier starts rolling his hips along his backside. He is not gentle, heck, tenderness is nothing the Soldier knew, and he nibbles and bites into his skin and pushes his crotch against the Engineer in a demanding fancy.
“Slow down there pardner.” Engineer nearly felt a chuckle tumble from his lips at that desperate grinding of the man on top. Soldier snarls, canine-like and very frustrated.
“Patience is the key to success. Sun Tzu said that.” Engie reminded him.
“He did not say that.”
“Boy, I read Sun Tzu, and understood it, unlike you.”
He knows he shouldn't push his luck, but teasing him is quite fun, especially when it gave him that opportunity to watch the man bow to his consent.
“I’ll show you where your books will get you.”
The threat did nothing but shoot excited tingles up and down his back. Please do, he nearly said, and bit his lower lip instead.
Two strongs hands hook on the waistband of Engie’s pants and pulls him closer, and Engie does the rest by kicking them off his hips and to his knees. Way too late does he realize what he was doing, but there was no time to feel embarrassed. Soldier pushes his hips against his backside and Engineer feels him through the fabric of his boxers, thick and rigid and warm rubbing over the small of his back and he swallowed dryly. Oh wow. this was really happening, huh?
“You've been the only one daring to set against my orders. Multiple times.” Soldier hisses into his ear. “I am hoping kindly that this COCKINESS is something you learn in Texas...”
Engineer chuckles with his voice now a mix of trembles and the same sassy spark he always kept. He could feel the hardening cock against him pulse slightly with every friction against him, even through the layer of fabric still separating them.
“Ya learn quite a few useful things in Texas, alright.” Engineer looks over his shoulder to meet Soldiers gaze. “Ya better be showin' me then what'cha learn in the midwest.”
“Sir, yes sir!”
That was a mistake. Oooh, hell,it was a mistake to say that to the Soldier.
Engineer is used to the gentle, teasing, slow paced hanky-panky he engaged in during college. And his previous married life.
He had considered too late that Soldier wasn’t much of a man of sweet words, handholding and the arts of making love, seeing as he was never the romantic type of character.
Soldiers grips the Engie by his hips, fingernails dig into his flesh, and hold onto. And now, there wasn’t the merciful barrier of fabric between them. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it – thick, warm, almost hot to the touch - and very, VERY nude.
“C-Careful, Soldier, ya wouldn't wanna---Gah!”
Soldier shoved inside him, ignoring the resistance, pushing in with a strangled grunt. Dell never experienced such pain. He had broken several bones, got cut, burned, shot, fallen off cliffs or killed by fists and shovels. This all felt like gentle nicks compared to the pain he feels in this very moment.
His jaw drops in a silent cry of surprise and pain. His eyes pop open so wide they threatened to spring out of their very sockets. His body cramped at the intrusion. He hears the man above him give a frustrated snarl, trying to readjust himself. He huffs, then places a hand on Engie’s shoulder, and waits for the man below to relax.
“Take it like a man.” Soldier hissed.
Engineer held tightly onto the sheets beneath him, breathing through his nose, breathing through the sting – and then Soldier began moving, an arrhythmic, graceless pace that just couldn’t possibly feel good. For either of them.
“S-Slow down.” Engineer panted, and fell on deaf ears. Soldier snapped his hips back and forth, with no warning or gradual gradient. He only seemed to hear the Texan beneath him gasping, feeling him quiver and shake and his body throbbing around his cock, causing Soldier's hands to tighten around his hips and grunt loudly at the feeling of pressure building within him.
The bed creaked and shook and started thumbing against the wall, mixed with his own grunts, and Soldiers deep, raucous groans and puffs that grew louder. Engie feared the entire base would hear them, so unabashedly loud was Soldiers voice.
“S-Soldier keep it down!” He hissed, his voice thin.
The man In question doesn’t answer, but instead pushed his chest against the Engineer's back and pushing him into the mattress, his hips falling into a wild spasm as he ventures towards completion.
Engineer groans at the weight on top of him and the strange and contiguous feeling of their coupling that comes with every stroke inside him. When the pain subsided, Engie desperately hoped pleasure would follow, but he could barely touch himself, what with that beast of a man atop of him. The sheets alone offered some minimal friction that helped little, if at all.
Shucks, he had roused the bull and now felt its horns, alright!
Suddenly, he felt a set of teeth sink into his shoulder and he jerked, both in pain and bewilderment, and quickly bit down on his knuckles.
Soldier’s breath comes in strained, deep puffs against Engie’s cheek, growing more frantic and harsh in tandem with his hips, snapping one, twice, three times – and he let out a sharp noise close to the Texan’s ear, a noise that rattles through both men, through skin and bone alike, shaking Engie’s insides up in all sort of funny ways.
He sounds in pain, Engie thought, deliriously.
He felt Soldier’s release coating the inside of his guts, the taller man’s thighs shaking under the aftershocks of his peak. Then, blissful silence.
They stay like this, frozen to the spot, Soldier holding the trembling body close to his own as they bathe in the lingering heat. Well. At least they were thoroughly warmed up now. The room is filled with harsh pants that die down gradually. Everything was burning, his skin, his insides, especially his backside, and he feared this may gonna follow him throughout the next few days, too.
When he feels the man on top weighting him down too much, he starts squirming.
"Hoss, ya gettin' a lil heavy up there...” he mutters muffled after his bones start to ache from two hundred pounds of muscles resting on top of him. “Ya hearin' me, boy?”
He was asleep. Silent snores rumble in the depths of the man's throat, his eyes closed shut.
“Yeah...sleep well too...” he mutters with defeated sigh, before struggling his way to freedom from beneath the resting Soldier. He gives a puff in exhaustion, feeling the aches in his body buzz lazily through him.
Hell. He needed another shower...
Chapter Text
The first rays of sunlight tickle the Engineers nose. He creased his face, before slowly opening his eyes.
The first thing he sees, after the blur of sleep fades from his sight, is the clock on the nightstand, reading 6:17 in the morning.
The first thing he feels is...warmth. He was quite sure the last time he was awake he was still freezing, considering they were currently residing somewhere in the middle of Canada’s deepest tundra.
He stirs in his sheets, rubbing at his face and stretching his limbs with leisure – and feels something rasping along his arm as he does so. A look to his right, he sees a hill of covers, and something moving underneath.
Broad shoulders are turned towards him. Rough, scarred skin stretch over a muscular back. The covers gently lifting and sinking with every breath the man next to him draws
It's Solly. Engineer slowly recollects the events from last night that lead to this situation.
Something, Something Medic, something something sharing warmth, and …
Lifting his leg, the pain that follows brings all the missing memories back into his brain. Yikes. He remembers now. What a convenient way to share warmth, huh?
For their friendship however, this was anything but convenient. And Engineer repeats that internally.
Have you gone doggone mad, he think. He is your friend! Your colleague! What you just did was...well, actually, he started it!
If dad could see me now…
No. He was not going to think about his father now.
He had to get out, now. Out of this bed, out of this room. Hell, he’d need a long walk outside this base as well! Engie pushed the covers from him and sits up, seeing the clothes scattered heedlessly all around the room.
He’s still wrapping his mind around whether what happened last night was a dreadful mistake, or a necessity – when he hears the man next to him shift.
A muscled arm moves over his face, grumbling something under his breath, itching at his bare chest. Despite himself, Engineer had difficulty taking his eyes off the other. And to think, he’d been clawing at this man’s body like a love-drunken teenager just a few hours ago.
“ALERT!” The Administrator growled down into her receiver, the speakers blaring angrily through their small hut. “Activity detected by the depot. Get ready for deployment.”
Soldier wakes up in a less gentle way. His body reacts before his brain can, he sits up swiftly, a harsh breath pressed between closed teeth that resembled an alert growl.
“ATTACK! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!” Soldier yelled at the top of his lungs. Engineer yelped, dropped his underwear. He wheeled around and stared at the Soldier like a frightened bunny. Eyes wide, a hand on his erratic rising chest.
“Dagnabbit, Soldier...” he panted. Themismatched helmet perched on top of Soldier’s head was spinning slightly, his eyes seemingly roaming the room for the intruder – finding Engie instead. Even with the helmet on he could feel the other staring him down, he looked like he was glaring right through Engies bones.
“What are you doing here?” He hissed. Engineer blinked.
“I…You…?
“IS THIS HOW YOU GREET YOUR SERGANT, MAGGOT?! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK, DIDNT YOU HEAR?”
He snatched the underwear from his flabbergasted bed-mate.
“This is MY underwear! You will not take MY underwear!! You are not WORTHY of my underwear you scumsu---”
Soldier freezes, coming to a sputtering halt in his tracks. His eyes fell from his underwear in the tinkerer’s hand – down his own body. And down Engie’s body. And back at the underwear in Engie’s hand.
“Whu...?”
“Ye better get into 'em.” Dell muttered, rolled his eyes and turned around, instead looking for his own underwear. “We are late.”
“...Private I have some questions.”
“Keep 'em fer later, hoss.”
The absolutely last thing Engineer wanted at this moment was to address the obvious scenario they were caught in. They hadn't had the time. And Engineer hadn't had the nerves.
He supposed, or hoped, Soldier’s mind would eradicate this memory anyway, maybe as quick as possible. Once the heat of battle began, both of them would surely forget.
And never bring it up again.
“D--Do NOT ignore me!!” He yelled. “Ive got questions, and you will answer them-!”
“ALERT! MISSION BEGINS IN FIFTEEN MINUTES! GATHER AT PICKUP AREA!” The female voice echoed loudly through the intercom.
Engineer was swiftly putting on his gear, boxers, shirt, overalls, hardhat, and buckled his belt and straps. “Ye heard the lady, we oughta--”
He was knocked almost over by the force of Soldiers body rushing past him.
“OUT OF MY WAY, HARDHAT!!” He yelled. “ASIDE, SMOKEY JOE!!” his voiced echoed through the corridor as he rushed to the breakfast table – naked.
Engineer meant to warn him about that, but while his brain was quick, Soldiers actions were even quicker to catch up with.
Pyros startled noise had ebbed into angry grumbles, Engineer looked into the corridor to see the gas-masked person picking up the content of a plate they accidentally had spilled on the floor.
“Aw, pyro did ya done went and get me sum breakfast?” Engineer smiled lopsided at them.. The firebug nodded in excitement, handing the plate over. Most of the bacon bits were burned to inedible crisps, and the pancakes were now covered in hair and dust from the floor they had tumbled to.
“Aaw, ain't that nice of ya...” Engie smirked. “Buuut, ah think imma take 'em with me to the battlefield, what ya think?”
Pyro clapped excited. “Bmmptthmphffmhht!” he cheered. Seemed like Sparks was pumped for today, huffing a mumbled snicker. The two of them entered the kitchen to find it in a mess of broken eggshells, flour everywhere, Pyro’s chef hat soaked in syrup, unidentifiable spots and splashes on the corners, walls, ceiling.
They found the other mercenaries, some still half asleep, others wide awake, stacking pancakes on their plates.
Engie’s body hurt. It hurt everywhere. Speaking hurt. Moving hurt. Walking hurt the most. And darn he was goddamn tired.
He puffed out a labored breath as he dragged himself to the washing rooms to brush his teeth and maybe manage a quick shave before deployment began. Demo was whistling cheerfully under the hot stream of water.
Darn, he had a hard time even keeping his eyes open. Maybe if he could fake a fever…
Engie pressed a hand to his forehead. Cold. He certainly had no excuse to skip today then. But never had he ever felt more like staying here, in the non-heated base, than going out and fight and run and have Soldier as his personal Spy-checker.
He splashed ice cold water into his face. He scrubbed the gunk from his eyes, gave his cheek a few smacks with his hands. C’mon, Conagher. You gonna pull through today,
“Mission begins in five minutes!”
Engineer pulled the flaps of his jacket further over his face, to endure the gust of winds that swirled around the team.
Scout seemingly had learned his lesson and wrapped himself up from head to toe, frozen snot sticking to his nose. Just as Medic had warned him, the kid caught himself a nasty cold.
Sniper had pulled the hood of his jacket far over his head, pulling the straps close so only his eyes and nose would still be visible. Snow covered his yellow sunglasses and thawed into cold water dripping down his nose and chin. He was shivering too, yet didn't show any signs of it besides a nervous twitching in his legs.
So did Spy, covered in his fur coat, and hands slipped in thick gloves. Heavy, on the other side, didn't freeze at all. He was born in snow. Raised in snow. Heck, he might as well have been conceived in snow, too. Medic had buried himself into Heavys jacket, looking like a kangaroo sitting in its mothers pouch. A funny image yet anybody commenting on it received a deathglare from the giant at the germans side.
They were waiting.
In the gray and dark dusk and heavy snowfall, it’s impossible to tell one thing from the other. That movement behind the silvery wall of snowfall could be a RED – or a bear, for all he knew.
From what he had gathered, RED had managed to ransack BLU’s depots, loading everything up on a cart, and ready to sneak it past their defenses.
But…where the heck were they?
His sentry was beeping softly, turning from right to left. Engineer turned to look at the giant clock hanging above his head. It’s supposed to arrive soon, he thought.
Barnyard used to be, as the name implied, a depot for grains, later on used for observations in the Mann twins era. Sentries guarded each side, doing nothing more than to spy out the other and prevent intrusion into the enemy’s territory. Like most, it ended up abandoned.
So far, everything seemed quiet. He had found his spot behind a big boulder and a few planks of wood to protect him, sentry up right in the blind angle of the enemy’s sniper shooting range, dispenser in a small niche behind protruding rocks.
Pyro had been rushing forwards but nevertheless, Engineer had asked him to stick around. Maybe Soldier had forgotten about his newly acquired ‘Spy-checking’-duties.
A wise decision. As not a few moments later, the entire map seemed to be flooded with spies.
He knows that’s not even possible, as every team had only one. But goddamn, seemed like that snake had started doing some intense Deathringer training.
Whenever he seemed to be killed off, he reappeared somewhere else, and struck the poor Pyro down. Which had been bad, seeing as RED had made progress in pushing the cart along. They simply appeared out of the snow, pushing the cart with combined forces. And all hell broke loose.
Pyro kept an alert eye out at all times, until a shadow came careening down into their nest, and with fire licking at his boots, Soldier landed before them. Blood stuck to his clothes. He was bleeding out of a hole in his right side. Damn, Egie thought – his kidney must’ve been obliterated. Still, the man made no sound of discomfort.
“Enough playing dollhouse, muffin-top!” Soldier grabbed the Pyro by their collar and physically shoved them out of the Sentry nest. “This is MY sentry and I will defend it! Dismissed!”
Pyro made a confused gesture with their hands, looking from Soldier to Engie.
“You heard me, Sparks! Move out!”
“Sal,” Engie tried. He didn’t listen.
“Are you slow or just deaf, hombre?!” Soldier yelled over the chaos of battle. “Move your ass!!”
Pyro protested. Engie barely saw the masked person become this visibly infuriated. A gloved finger pointed at Soldier’s face, just inches away from his nose. The Commando actually looked visibly taken aback for a moment.
“SON, I UNDERSTAND NOT A SINGLE WORD TUMBLING OUT OF YOUR SISSY MOUTH, BUT I UNDERSTAND THAT IF YOU DON’T GO DEFEND THE CART RIGHT NOW, I WILL SHOVE MY BOOTS SO FAR UP YOUR ASS YOU’LL TASTE RUBBER!!”
Above Soldier's yelling, Engie heard the familiar ‘zwwwish’ of a Spy, uncloaking. He hadn’t even had the chance to speak, as moments later, Pyro gave a strangled cry in agony, a gush of blood running from the nozzle and the firestarter collapsed to the floor.
“SPY!” Soldier yelled, drawing his shotgun and blasting a load of bullets into the Spy’s body. The Frenchman looked surprised at first, looking down at himself, red suit drenching in crinsom. He stumbled backwards, collapsed – but Engineer saw the cocky smirk stretched across Spy’s face.
Darn-dang Deathringer!
“Danger eilimnated!” Soldier announced. Engineer gave the round, oversized helmet a smack.
“Yer egg-headed goddamn yankee! He’s still alive!”
“Impossible! I just send him back to Quebec, where he comes from!”
“He’s got a danr deathringer!”
“WHAT IN THE RED HELLS IS A DEATHRINGER!?”
He had no time to explain as RED materialized behind Soldier, blade aloft.
“Spah!” Engie pointed. The blade came down, cutting through fabric, flesh and muscle tissue – and into Soldier’s neck. A nauseatingly large amount of blood came gushing out of that cut, but Soldier barely made a sound – instead he dropped his shotgun, drew his shovel and took a swing, the metal singing in the wind.
Spy’s head came clean off his shoulders. The body slumped in slow-motion, knees simply folding underneath him. The head rolled to Engie’s feet. The man had not even had time to look surprised upon his decapitation.
Soldier’s jacket turned red, then dark red, then purple. He made one step, two steps, then began swaying.
Engie caught him. Arms beneath his shoulders, he dragged the larger man behind his sentry, towards the dispenser. He knew it was a lost cause- He was bleeding way too much for the dispenser to catch up with.
“Yer gosh-darn idiot!!” he yelled at him, hands curling around the flaps of his coat. “What the HELL were ya thinkin’, sending Pyro away, again! Don’cha get it THI is why I gotta have ‘em around? Not YOU?!”
“Let…go,” Soldier muttered between labored breaths. “Must…defend…sentry!”
Blood poured down Engie’s gloves, sticky, warm.
It was too much.
“Boy, if ah see ya close ta any of mah tools again, boy, I'm gonna stuff yer full of bullets and serve yer as Christmas dinner! Do ya hear me?!”
Engineer didn't mean to be this harsh with Soldier. He knows, his intentions were good. But damn, it was so, so hard. A lump forms in his throat, threatening to choke him. His knuckles clenched hard around Soldier’s coat.
When Engie finally let go of Soldier, the man was long gone.
The memory was still lingering on his mind when he opened his eyes again and found himself back at the train station, surrounded by luggage, equipment and his teammates.
He let go of a breath he didn't realize he held. It puffed out into a white puff of steam. Thick snowflakes had caught on his safety goggles. He pulled the flaps of his coat over his face to shield his earlobes from the biting cold.
“Oy, take a look a' that.” Demo snickered next to Engie. The texan blinked through the heavy wall of snow. On the other side of the rails, he saw RED, heads hanging low, disappointment written openly on their faces as they dragged themselves onto the adjacent train platform.
They were beaten up, wearing casts around arms and legs, thick bandages wrapped around their Heavy's head, their Medic wore a cone around his neck, making him resemble a particularly vexed poodle. Once the Red's noticed the snickering from BLU's side, they started scowling back, grumbling like angered animals, some yelled and threatened to come over there and beat them up, some made rather obscene gestures with their hands.
The most blatant differences between RED and BLU had to be the obviously uneven distribution of respect.
“We showed them who is boss, huh?”
“Mhhph mh!” Pyro nodded.
“Yeah! They goonna think twice next time they try to steal from oos! Ye hear?!” Demo called over to the RED's. “Go ta hell ye buncha big ugly garls!”
“Eat shit, juicehead!” RED Scout yelled.
“Ach! Who ye callin' a juicehead?” Demo bend down, picked up a bunch of snow, formed a ball and threw it with full force across the platform. And into Scouts face.
Laughter spread among the BLU's upon seeing the speedster’s surprised sputtering and spitting, tripping backwards over his comically large luggage and landing bum-first in more snow.
“Im gonna getcha!!” Scout threatened.
“Then come over here!”
“I might just do dat!!”
“Do it!”
“You think I won’t?! I’mma do it right freakin’ now, you –!“
RED had to physically restraint the Bostonian from jumping across when a large light broke through the dusky snowfall, whistling low and huffing and puffing along the traintracks. Tow trains arrived at the same time, each heading in different directions, but both with the same goal – back to New Mexico.
“Boys, c'mon, our ride's here.”
Everyone heaved their heavy luggage inside, soaking the carpeted navy blue floor in snow and mud as they boarded the train. Noticeably no separate cabins this time, only rows of seats that stretched over long distances in one and the other direction.
Heavy threw his giant bear-fur coat over one of the seats to 'reserve' it for himself and the medic, before Scout would take it and put his muddy shoes on the table – which the Speedster did across from them, his feet propped on the table.
“Am I really a juicehead, Sniper?” Demo asked, his chin rested on the table between the Scot and the Bushman, his one eye watering already a little.
“Nah.” Sniper shook his head, opening his newspaper.
“But that slimy weasel called me a juicehead.” Demos voice was cracking.
“He's a wanker, Demo.”
“Ye just think uf me as a one eyed bloodeh monster too, dunye?”
“Nah.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Nah.”
“I killed me foster parents...”
“It was a mistake.”
“Ye think of me as a mistake too, ye?”
“Nah.”
“Ye just not tellin' me to not hurt me feels.”
“Sorta.”
Spy rolled his eyes. “Fantastic. I'm excited to 'ave zhis drama going on for se rest of se trip.” he rumbled and flicked the barrel of his lighter, igniting his cigarette and taking in a deep breath.
There was a sudden crackling noise, and the speakers began blaring.
“To the gentlemen in the balaclava in seat 104 B, smoking during the ride is prohibited in every section of the train, thank you.” the voice sounded, and then died down with another cracking sound.
“Connard.” Spy growled, pushing the lit cigarette against the wall to extinguish it.
“Ahem, extinguishing cigarettes at any carpeted part of the train is prohibited as well, thank you.”
Engineer didn't realize he had fallen asleep until the felt something heavy leaning against his shoulder, followed by a soft buzzing in his ear. For a drowsy moment he was sure it was only his suitcase, threatening to fall from its overhead-compartment and onto him with the next upcoming curve.
He blinked, finding the previously lively train now very quiet. Sniper and Demo were leaning against each other heavily, a string of saliva dripping down onto Snipers shoulder, and Snipers hat slipping from his head onto Demo's slightly. Scout had his arms crossed and his head lulled back in the seat, suckling on his thumb. Pyro had curled himself across Scouts lap and coughed happy little snores.
Heavy had pulled the hood of his bear coat over his face and his hands folded over his lap. Not even the rattling of the train could drown out the man’s thunderous snoring.
Medic and Spy were the only ones still awake. Spy suckling on an unlit cigarette to quench his urge for a smoke, playing a round of Rommé with the German. They were speaking in low, hushed voices, and as Engie regained consciousness, he could hear snippets of conversation.
Something about quitting smoking. Spy making a comment about inhaling medi-fluids. Doc sputtering.
For a moment Engineer entertained the idea of joining them. His body felt too restless to sleep more, and other than staring outside the window, there was not much to do anyway. So, as he slightly moved to stand, he felt the same heavy pressure on his shoulder than he did as he woke up. He looked up.
Soldier was sitting next to him. His chin resting on his chest, arms folded over his body, legs spread apart into a firm stand, even in his sleep. The softest rumble of his snores tickled at his ear.
He hadn't noticed Soldier had taken a seat next to him. So close as well – shoulder to shoulder while the train swayed them to and fro ever so slightly.
They hadn’t been this close since, well…
“We must share warmth” Soldier had said the night before their departure.
“Huh?”
“Share warmth. It's cold. Your tenuous civilian body can’t compete to the cold nights.”
Engineer had furrowed his brow in confusion, until he realized what the man was saying. Sharing warmth.
Was he...?
“It ain't that cold tonight Sal. Me and mah 'tenuous civilian body' gonna handle it, thanks.”
There was a pause.
“Those are the orders.” Soldier had countered. “Sharing warmth in time of great … uhh...”
“Those ain't orders, Sal, jus' basic human survival instincts.”
“Sir?”
“Jus'...let it go, yeah? G'night.”
It had been like a slap to the face when Engie entered their shared domiciles and found the other’s cot with two pillows, two sets of blankets and Soldier’s body pressed against the wall to make space for him.
Heck.
Heck, heck, heck.
This was bad.
Engie had taken his pillow from Soldier’s side, as well as his blanket, and tossed it onto his own bed. Wordlessly, he had crawled underneath the covers and let out a long, strained sigh as his over-tired body could finally rest.
“In times of great...uh...gizmo,it makes sense to share warmth. Those are the orders.”
“Solly, let it go already, those ain't no orders.”
“But you told me to.”
Darn this man to hell and back, he thought, the lump in his throat returning to nearly cut off his air supply again.
Don’t, Conagher, he told himself. You know if you do, you’ll never pull your neck out of this again.
He had pretended to be asleep, to avoid any further conversation regarding that topic. Soldier had stayed there, staring back at the Engineer and waiting for a reaction. When none came, the man had obviously given up, and rolled to his side as well.
Engineer didn't mean to hurt the man’s feelings. He never meant to treat him like this, like something disposable after it served its purpose. He pushed his face into his pillow and wanted to yell. But not with Soldier close by.
First I call him an idiot, then I reject him.
You’re an asshole, Conagher.
He had to. This was already going way too far for his liking. Whatever Engie had done to encourage the rocketman into this sudden, erratic behavior, it was teetering at the edge of something far more serious, and dangerous, than amicable comradery. Gradually scraping away the line between a friend and a liability to the company. Did Soldier learn nothing from his short-lived friendship with Tavish?
Heck, did Dell not learn anything from their short-lived friendship?
This had to end. If not for the company’s stability, then to quell whatever raging confliction was going on inside the Engineer.
If Dad could see me now…
Any more, and that’s it, he wouldn't be able to keep that professional dynamic up anymore. He would kiss the Soldier, again. And again. And again, and again and…
Back in the train, Engie contemplated what he should do now. He could try and scoot away, but Soldier would surely just slump out of his seat if he did so. And that would just be plain mean.
Besides, the soft press of Soldiers expanding torso with each deep breath he drew in rhythmic intervals served a somehow calming ambiance.
So, he stayed. Just a bit longer, he told himself. No rush. They’d be travelling for the next two days to come before arriving at the next base.
Outside the window, the landscape bore little but endless snowy landscapes. No trees grew here. No animals roamed here. No people lived here. Thick snowflakes pitter-pattered against the side of the train, thawed and turned into streaks of water running along the window pane.
Engineer looked to the Soldier.
The lights fluttered slightly as the train rolled over an unevenness in the rails.
Engineer looked to the Soldier.
Engineer heard the Medics and Spies hushed voices at the other side of the train, and suddenly they felt very far away and their conversation very boring.
And Engineer looked over to the man again.
Soldier hadn't shaved in days. Stubble formed around the man’s jawline, dark and spiky, tough to the touch. He knew, for he had raised his hand to stroke them with the back of his fingers. He only stopped, once he caught himself doing so, and retreated his hand again. Christ, if Soldier was awake, his fingers were mangled at that point, he was sure.
But somehow, he could not have helped himself.
When he was sure the man was still softly snoring, and no other set of eyes was observing, he found himself reaching out again. To his neck.
He brushed along the skin there, felt the pulse of the man thumping steadily beneath that thick layer of skin. The memory of blood rushing through that open wound made it hard for him to look, but he still did. There was a fine, fading scar running along the man’s jugular.
He looked back at the dark short hair building on his face, to the trimmed stubble of his graying sideburns. He never had seen the man without that helmet. Not even in the showers. The man always wore it, wherever he went. He never had seen the man’s eyes. Never seen the color of his hair. Or any other expression than anger on his weather-beaten face.
He knew Soldier wasn't any older than he was, perhaps one or two years older, give or take. Well, he himself wasn't the youngest fella on earth either; constant fighting took its toll on his body. Should he ever grow his hair longer again, he wouldn’t be surprised if his usual honey-blonde complexion would turn silver.
If he scooted his hand upwards, carefully, he could easily lift that helmet and reveal the man’s face -
Suddenly, the train came to an abrupt stop. Everyone was nearly thrown out of their seats by the powers of centrifugal force; Engineer was awkwardly thrown against the Soldier, banging his head with the man’s helmet, the clanking echoed inside his skull like a churchbell.
“A-ATTACK! WE ARE UNDER ATTA--”
The train screeched and wheezed as it slowed, and slowed down – until it came to a full, sudden stop. Luggage tumbled from its compartments and skidded along the carpeted floor.
Everyone was shaken awake, looking around confused, holding aching body parts that had either fallen asleep or banged during the sudden stop.
“Whot happened?” Sniper yelled.
“WE ARE UNDER ATTACK! HIDE THE WOMEN! HIDE THE CHLDREN! HIDE THE BIBLE--”
“Soldier, shut it!!” Engineer had given the man a slap on his helmet to get him out of his panicky state.
“Who voke Heavy?!” Heavy growled angrily as he scrambled away from the small wooden table he had landed belly-first on. He cracked the knuckles of his curled fists.
“What se hell ...?” Spy opened the window bnext to him, glancing outside. A harsh gale of wind blew into the warm cabin. Medic shielded his eyes against the ounslaught.
“Vhy did ve stop...?” he asked after a moment of complete silence that had spread among the confused and drowsy mercenaries.
“Ve can't possibly be zhere yet, right...?”
Engineer blinked, turned in his seat to stare outside the window as well. He was right. They were still caught in some snowy, cold wasteland. Definitely not New Mexico.
In lieu of an answer, the door at the end of the train compartment opened instead and a lanky, red haired boy stalked down the corridor. “E-Err, S-Sorry gentlemen.” he crowed with a terrible juvenile voice break. “Th-The conductor s-said we have r-run out of gravel, a-and...”
“Speak clearly son, we aren't in Russia!” Soldier growled and stood from his seat to tower over the pimple-peppered redhead. The kid shrunk visibly under Soldier’s scowl.
“A-Ah, I-I--”
Medic pushed past the veteran. “Ve ran out of gravel?”
The kid nodded. “Y-Yes, t-to, to fuel the e-engine.” he stammered, his eyes twitching over to the Soldier from time to time.
“Hold ya horses, son, ya sayin' you've been throwin' Gravel into the furnace?”
“Y-Yes.”
“GRAVEL?! INTO THE FURNACE?!” Soldier barked. “Wait, what’s wrong about that again...?” he added, less loudly.
“Y-Yes. Gravel f-for the engine.” the boy pleaded in fright.
“But- we’re in a gravel war. How the HECK do we run out of gravel?!”
Scout chimed in. The kid shrugged, helplessly.
Soldier grabbed the ginger by the collar. “Answer the question, maggot!”
“I-I don’t know! W-We ch-checked triple times, p-please sir, don’t whoop me, Sir.”
“He ain't gonna do nuthin' to ya, boy.” Engineer gave Soldier a warning glance, and Soldier grumbled, but obliged. His hand unfurled around the kid’s shirt.
“But without fuel ...” Engineer stared outside the window.
“Oh, crap, does that mean we...” Scout looked over to Demo and Sniper.
“Goona die here in the freezin' cold?” Demo finished, his voice thin.
Silence.
“OH NO! I KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN! I FORSAW THIS!!” Scout broke into panicky screams.
“Thus is the revenge oof mah dead foster parents! This is whit I deserve! Waaaah! “threw his hands into his face and howled like a dog.
“You’re not gonna doy, Demo.“ Sniper patted the man’s back.
“Yes, I will. Jis’ let me die here!“
“Vell, it was a displeasure to know all of you. Adieu.” Spy said, leaned back, and started smoking again.
“No, Sniper's right.” Engineer turned around. “We ain't gonna die today, fellas.”
“Then how you wanna get us outta here, huh?” Scout stared at him with wide scared eyes. “Have ya looked around ya for a moment?! We are in the freakin’ nowhere, snow and ice everywhere!”
Scout was right, sadly. Who knew how far the next civilization was away from here...
“But fine, yknow, jus go outside and get eaten by a friggin' Yeti, then. Imma stay here.”
“How far's the next town?” Engineer turned to the teenager.
“U-Uhm...” the redhead gulped.
“Where?!”
“T-Two hours from here, to the East, please stop shouting at me.”
Engineer huffed. Two hours from here...through the icy landscapes.
“Fine. Ah'll go and get us help.” Engineer moved to his luggage and opened it, grabbing a second jacket and a pair of gloves.
“Mmph!” Pyro was instantly up on his feet, hands stretched out, shaking his head. “Mph-Mmph!”
He did not want him to step outside there.
“Ehm. Engie, are you sure you...”
“Ah christ, Engie, I was jokin' jus' now, c'mon, ya wouldn't actually--!” Scout was up, hands raised, to stop the approaching Engineer. He was pushed aside.
“Leetle Engineer not go outside.” Even Heavy looked grimly out the window. “Winter ees hard and cold.”
“Well, one of us oughta do it!” Engineer hissed back. “Either we gonna get help, or we really gonna freeze ta death in here. And ah'm not supposin' any of yall fellas gonna volunteer, huh?”
The group of men started adverting their eyes, awkwardly rubbing arms and hands.
“I will accompany you.”
Engineer turned to look at the Soldier. He had stepped forward, hands on his back, one fixed at his forehead in a stiff salute.
“At your service, Sir.”
Engies eyebrows furrowed over his tainted goggles. “Sal, ye ain't need to. Rather one of us goes missin' than too many.”
“You are a fellow comrade and red-blooded American, and Americans don't desert each other.” Soldier's arm flung back to stick stiffly at his side. “I will go with you.”
“Mph!” Pyro suddenly wheezed angrily. “Mhp wphh'll gmho!” He proclaimed.
“Pyro, buddy please stay here, a'right? Ya know ya ain't used to the cold.”
“Mph hmn't mmh!” the firebug growled, which sounded an awful lot like ‘I don’t care!’
The tinkerer's shoulders squared. “Pyro, ya gonna freeze out there! Don't ya remember last time ya got lost in the woods at Christmas time?”
Oh, Pyro remembered alright. So did that pack of wolves Pyro had encountered on a snow-hynosis trip. Pyro's shoulders slumped into a sad bow. He looked like one of his balloonicorns, out of air.
“Your firebug friend will not be any help for this mission.” Soldier commented dryly. “This is a task for real Soldiers. Sense of coordination, navigation, survival – and maleness.”
Pyro growled beneath their mask at the Soldier. Yet, sadly, Solly was right. Pyro was too easily distracted. That could cost both their lives. Engineer swallowed, and looked around for a moment. He knew nobody else would take Soldiers space by own choice – or accompany them. He bit his lip.
“Fine. Get yer jacket.”
Engineer himself rolled the zipper far up beneath his nose, pulled down his cap and threw the scarf around his neck, moving to one of the compartment doors. He slid them open, frost cracking as he did so.
“Mmphie!” Pyro literally clung to the man's sleeve, softly sobbing. “Mmease dhmpnt gmho!” They pleaded. Augh, they were not making it easy. Engie gently patted Pyro’s hand.
“Hey, Py, Ah'll be alright, yeah?”
“Do not fret, Smoky Joe.” Soldier patted the arsonist on his back; nearly knocking him off his feet. “I will protect your frilly friend with my own life.”
When Pyro’s grip around his sleeve didn’t loosen up, but tightened even further, Engie pulled the firebug into a tight hug. “Don’cha worry. It takes more than a bit of frost ta unsaddle this cowboy.”
Notes:
Sorry this chapter is a lil' unspectacular, i have had some issues with separating all this in chapters, But next one will be more exiting i promise !
Also happy new year, folks!
Chapter 6: Protecting
Notes:
To celebrate comic issue #6, i just go ahead and post the next chapter a bit earlier huehue.
I might take a while to get to the next one though.
Chapter Text
The cold bit at his earlobes and the tip of his nose. He constantly pressed his gloved hand against it to prevent it from freezing.
Latching the scarf over his nose only fogged up his goggles, and that was mighty inconvenient if he had to navigate them with that compass in his hand. Eastward, two hours. He gave the rope around his hip a tug, confirming it was tightly secured. Once it ran out, he would hammer a hook into the nearest surface, latch a new rope into it, and continue. That way, they would find their way back easier.
At the beginning, those two hours had sounded manageable.Now, that he actually went ahead, he felt worse for wear with each step.
He had lost count of how long he had been walking so far. An hour? Maybe two already? Maybe just a few minutes?
He had been able to see the headlights of the train at least for a few minutes after he left, and heard the engine growling and huffing as it cooled down. And then the next moment he looked behind him, he neither heard nor saw anything anymore, besides snow falling and wind whistling. He had gulped, but then he had collected and forced himself to proceed. Towards East.
He was on the right way. Or at least, he hoped he was.
He gave the rope a testing tug and felt it go taut.
Good.
Engineer was busy with brushing off snow from the compass, as he heard a familiar sound. Cartridges pushed into the shell of a gun.
Engineer turned and stared at the larger figure that had been at his side from the beginning of the journey. Soldier was loading his shotgun, cocking it back.
“Ya brought a weapon along?” the mechanic asked amused.
“If that's what Scout said is true, then I shall not stay unprepared if we encounter a Yeti.” he held the gun at his chest.
“There ain't no Yeti's round here.” Engie sighed, and looked at the compass again.
“I am not running on the chances that there might be one and let that hairy maggot eat me.”
“The chances ye would run on a yeti are practically zero. He's never been seen, 'least not around Canada.”
Soldier pondered a moment.
“We are in FULL LOCKDOWN and I can't leave our perimeters unprotected.” he finally exclaimed, angry and determined. He ground his teeth and went ahead of the Engineer.
“Hey, Sal, stay with me, will ya.”
“I do not walk with men that deny or ignore the dangers at hand and jeopardizing EVERYONE.”
Engineer shook his head in anger. “Ya kiddin' me?! What the hell ya think I'm doing right now? Havin' a lil relaxed walk in the freezin' cold?”
“The snowstorms in the tundra of Poland are relaxed walk. This here is goddamn cake walk!”
Soldier’s steps were long and quick, Engineer actually had trouble catching up with him.
“Would ya goddamn wait for a second!”
“Put your training to good use and walk faster!!” Soldier growled from ahead. Engineer could see him slowly vanishing behind the wall of snow.
Goddamn he couldn't lose him! If they separated now, one of them would go missing for sure.
“Soldier, hold on this instant! You wanna get us killed?!” Engineer cried out. Panic began to bubble inside him. “Soldier!!” he started running. Hasty, heavy steps through inches of snow.
“KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN! THE YETI MIGHT HEAR US!”
“THERE AIN'T NO YETI YER PIG-HEADED ---”
Crack!
Engineer froze. Did...did the floor just...Give way beneath his foot?
He looked down, lifted his boot – noticed small bits of snow that seemed to...sink into the ground beneath. Not sink, more like...
Falling. Into the floor.
“S-Soldier...” Engineer stammered. The man either ignored him or couldn’t hear him. And he couldn’t see where he was.“Soldier!!”
“WHAT IS IT NOW, MAGGOT!?”
Engineer flinched as he heard the angry voice of the veteran close to his right side, and he jumped, tripping over his rope and falling into the snow.
Panic burst through his mind like a bomb, he quickly scrambled back onto his feet and away.
“It's just SNOW, you sissy! Stop whi--”
“This ain't just snow, Soldier...” Engineer wheezed, and pointed straight ahead. “Look.”
“Huh?” Soldier tilted his head. The wind slowly die down and the hazy snowfall slowed down, revealing several yards of frozen ice. It glistened, even without the sun out.
“We're on a glacier.” Engineer whispered. He stared down on his feet, saw the small cracks that developed beneath his weight. Now, Soldier finally looked down as well, staring at the sunken spots his boots left. They exchanged an alarmed glance, and then almost simultaneously, they jumped backwards, away from the rifts in the floor. The heavy impact of boots made the ice crumble more and more, and slowly, the two men started literally dodging the cracks following them, opening up beneath them.
Engineer suddenly felt the heel of his boot banging against a solid object, he tumbled and landed back in the snow.
Soldier’s hand snapped for the man's collar and pulled him back on his feet again, half-dragging him along. And then, as fast as they came – the cracks stopped. Seemed like they had reached the border or the glacier, and stood on solid rock again.
“N-Not that way.” Engie panted, pushing off patches of snow from his pants.
“Not that way...” Soldier agreed with a thoughtful nod.
They continued circling the glacier. It might take a few more hours until they would have reached the town they hoped to arrive at.
Engineer prayed that they would get through swiftly. And that they would be back before the rest of the team would...
He didn't want to think about that option. At night, temperatures fell, and he knew the engines of the train wouldn't be able to keep the compartments heated forever. He fret he would return, seeing everyone sleeping, frozen – and without repawn in close range. Oddly enough, the idea of his team dying occupied more space in his mind than the other, more likely scenario of the two of them dying out here.
Soldier had taken on the task to coordinate them around the glacier. If Engineer trusted Soldier in anything, it was navigating. Oddly enough, while Engie would have lost himself at least twice, Soldier always had an excellent sense of navigation. Maybe that compensated for his general inobservance.
“We shoulda oughta grabbed a map...” Engie growled. If there was any map that actually showed the way around the glacier.
“We are no pilgrims, private. We may have descended from them. But we are independent. We will find our way without a map.”
“I ain't too fond of circlin' the same glacier fer hours and then realizin’ we've been walkin' in circles.” Engineer griped, and wrapped his arms a bit tighter around his midsection. Icy wind constantly cut through the clothes he wore.
“We will not come off our path. We have been following the instructions clearly, two hours footmarch.”
“Well, now that we have the glacier across...make that three hours. Maybe four...”
“Two, Three, Four hours, what difference does it make? We take what we get and we take it like men!!” Soldier snarled, and flicked the case of the compass open to check their directions. The red needle trembled above the word 'West'.
“Hrrm. Two hours to Weast, we will make it!” Soldier said with determination.
Engineer and Soldier began to take much more cautious steps now, lightly pressing their boots into the snow. Whenever the smallest cracking or crumbling sound echoed, they flinched and moved further away from the path they had walked on.
They had continued their journey in silence mostly. Talking against the howling wind was pointless anyway, the only way was shouting really loudly, even when they were walking next to each other, and Engineer did not intent to set off an avalanche. They further crossed the edge of the glacier, fighting against the heavy storm. Engineer wondered if it was day time or evening. He looked above, but that turned out to be a mistake, as his scarf started flapping wildly into his face once his chin stopped keeping it down.
It was dark, and cloudy above them. Fog wavered over their heads and thickly around them. The storm increased now. Wind became harsher and harder to breach through without holding a hand up and shield the eyes from snow covering his goggles completely.
“Yer holdin' up, Sal?” Engineer called loudly through the lashing wind.
“Roger.” Soldier replied almost instantly. Engineer breathed calmer now. For a moment he had feared he would have lost him, he couldn't see anything closer than a foot in front of him.
“Sal, hold on a sec.” Pulling his strength together, he marched a little faster to catch up with the Soldier. His marine blue coat appeared between thick snowflakes.
“Sal, we gotta stay together!” He called. It didn't seem the Soldier could hear him, so Engineer reached out a hand. His fingers wrapped around the thick material of Soldiers jacket.
“Wh--?!” Soldier flinched. It didn't appear as if Soldier had noticed Engineer had been right behind him. And then, out of nowhere, his thunderous voice pierced through the wind.
“Y-YETI!! YETI RIGHT BEHIND ME!!”
Engineer jumped nearly as Soldier wheeled around and hauled the hard shell of the compass right against the frame of his goggles.
“Gah!” Engie gasped.
“Engie there was a yeti attached to my jacket!!” He frantically flailed his arms towards his back. “He grabbed the back of my coat!”
“That was me ya moron!! “ Engineer yelled back. “There ain't no yeti, goddamnit!!”
“There was a yeti, I'm positive! The coward snow-ape attacked me from behind!!”
There was a sudden small red flash breaking through the gloom, and a loud, echoing 'Bang!' that echoed over miles. Soldiers shotgun was smoking, the bullets had barely missed Engineer's head.
“HAVE YA LOST YER DOGGONE MIND?!”
“I SAW SOMETHING MOVE BEHIND YOU!! WHAT IF IT WAS TH--!”
“WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SHOOTING AT ME?!” Engineer's insides cramped from the shock he just witnessed, and Soldiers yelling was silent compared to the racing heartbeat inside his ears.
“I SAID I SAW SOMETHING MOVING BEHIND YOU!”
“I TOLD YER ALREADY IT WAS ME!! AND STOP YELLIN', YE HEAR ME!?”
“WHAT?!” Soldier yelled back.
“AH SAID YOU OUGHTA STOP YELLIN', WE'LL SET OFF A GOSH-DARN AVALANCHE, YOU DUMBASS!!”
“I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!”
“I SAID! STOP! YELL--!!”
CRACK!
Engineer instantly fell silent, as the noise echoed for miles. Loud, and angry, and right beneath his feet. There was no time to dodge. No time to run.
The ground beneath them simply gave way, and the word was a spinning white and gray blur.
Soldier awoke. He opened his eyes so quickly, his eyes had troubles adjusting. Darkness filled the corner of his eyes. It slowly faded from his sight like thawing ice. And a headache set in. He groaned softly, tried moving, sitting up. His head was throbbing violently.
“Urgh.” Soldier growled. Somehow, he managed to end up sitting upright, leaning on his arms. Snow fell off his chest and into his lap. What happened? Did the Yeti get them after all? Had he been knocked out? He surely felt like he had been knocked out. There was a painful throb at the left side of his brain. Something hot and wet stuck at his short hair and the side of his jaw.
Soldier moved his hand beneath the helmet, a biting pain rushing along his temples. When he withdrew his hand, there was blood. His conclusion was that the yeti must have punched a dent into his helmet as he had knocked him out. Besides that however, he seemed unharmed. Once again, he found, this here helmet has saved his life. People have mocked the obvious large size of the Kevlar, but if this lovely thing hasn't been on his head, he would surely not move right now. He looked around. The wind and the snow had stopped falling. In fact, there was just a low whistle above him. And the world looked even darker than before.
Was this the Yetis den? Had he carried him all the way to his cave to eat him later?
He glanced around. The walls around seemed to shine in blue shades, huge pillars of solid ice. He followed the length of the wall and up above him, so far until his head started banging with pain again and his sight blurred. He realized that he was in a sinkhole. The sky above him seemed farther away than ever.
A piece of broken rope tangled from the brim above. That's where we came from, from up there, Soldier realized. Seems like the Yeti's cave was very far down in--
We?
Soldier suddenly jumped as he remembered that he wasn't, in fact, alone.
Engineer. Where did Engineer go?
“Engie? Engie!” He called. His brain was pounding inside his skull with every movement. There was no Engie. No sign of the blue coat the man wore. No yellow glove. No hardhat...
Soldier started moving. He moved to his side and felt a dull pain in his ribs. He recognized a broken rib when he felt the pain. Maybe two broken ribs. No matter. He came to his feet and stumbled down the bank of snow, further down into the sinkhole.
“Hardhat, where are you?!” He yelled. He dug through heaps of snow, hoping to find him there. He finds a pair of goggles, a lens broken. Followed by a groan, somewhere behind the man Soldier wheeled around. There was a small hill of snow he hadn't noticed before, an arm sticking out from beneath, which now moved.
“Engie!”
Soldier scooted over to the knolll, fell to his knees, and started digging with his bare hands. He shoveled away the snow as fast as he could. “Stay with me private, I will get you out of there!”
He shoveled until the blue coat was visible, and quickly took a hold of it. “I will pull you out, three, two--” He started pulling. Engineer's head appeared beneath another layer of snow, hanging low, moving only slightly.
“S-Soldier...?”
“You better stay with me, you piece of garbage.” he growled as he took hold of the tinkerer’s armpits, jerking the man’s body out of the snow. Suddenly, the man started wincing badly in his grip and yelled out in pain.
“Aargh!!”
“Wh-What, what is--?”
Soldier, unsure what he had done, slowly lowered him onto the snow again, raised his head to inspect him. There he saw Engineers right leg, crooked in an odd direction. Definitely not in a direction a leg should be.
“Hnngh, fuck!” Engie cursed. “I think its broken...”
Engineer growled between pained huffs. Soldier slowly turned the man around, Engineer whimpered as his leg was put into a different position, his head resting heavy on Soldier's collarbone.
“I got you cadet, let's get you out of there.” He put his hands beneath his shoulders, and pulled the man out of the sinkhole of snow, and into a snow-sheltered area.
“Ow, ow...” Engineer whined. He was shaking badly, not from the cold, but from the immense pain. Soldier leaned the poor man against the cold wall.
“I'll inspect your wounds now.” Soldier declared, as he moved to the bruised leg. “Is there anything else that hurts you?”
Engineer shook his head. Probably there were many spots that hurt inside his body right now, but none even came close to the amount of pain in his leg. It drowned out all sort of feelings inside him. He bit his teeth harshly as Soldier began moving the fabric up his leg to expose it. The biting cold on his skin felt like a fresh breeze compared to the hot, angry ache in his flesh.
“S-Soldier, you're bleedin'...” Engineer said, startled.
Soldier, seemingly brought out of his silent staring, huffed shortly, and moved his hand to brush away the stream of blood that trickled down his jawline. A sudden noise echoed sharply through the ravine and Engie flinched. Fresh pain shot up his leg and into his hip and he groaned loudly.
It sounded like fabric ripping.
“S-Soldier, how bad is it?” he asked. Soldier did not answer. Engineer blinked at the man through hazy eyes, saw the Soldier’s parka unzipped, a piece of his shirt beneath was torn away…
“Soldier talk to me!”
Instead, Soldier fumbled with the loop of his belt. Once opened, he pulled it out from his pants, folded it and held to towards the injured Texan.
“Bite onto it.” Soldier growled. Engineer hesitated, too long to avoid the forceful push against his lips.
“Open your mouth!” Soldier demanded. Eventually, Engie did, having no choice but to. His heart was threatening to beat out of his throat.
He felt the man’s grip around his shin, and around his knee. “W-Wait, wait!” he mumbled behind the object in his mouth.
Snap!
Engineer's jaws contracted at instant, teeth clenching around Soldier’s belt and a broken cry in anguish tumbled from his throat. Tears shot to his eyes almost at instant. He thought moving his leg was painful, but this, this was a goddamn nightmare of pain, as bones clicked back in place. He was shaking hard, so hard, he lost control of his muscles. He breathed hard and audibly.
“Your sissy shinbone was broken in half.” Soldier informed him, while he placed pats of fabric on the open wound, before he wrapped more stripes he had ripped from his clothes around the mans leg. “I have set it back in place. It will heal now. No worries, private, this looks worse than it is! There is no broken bone that won't heal itself again. Try stuffing five meters of intestines back into your body, then we will...Engie...?”
Engineer’s eyes fluttered under his eyelids. His body went slack, he slowly slumped to the side. Soldier grasped him before he could fall into the snow again, removing the belt from his mouth. He’d have his dental records imprinted on there for the rest of its life.
Soldier moved him back to lean against the wall.
“Private.” he muttered. Engineer didn't answer. Not even as Soldier gave him a few claps on the cheeks. He was knocked out completely, and Soldier believed, for a moment, he wouldn't wake up again. He pulled his gloves from his hand and held his fingers to the man’s neck, feeling for a pulse. There it was. Weak, but it was there. Holding the back of his hand against the tinkerer’s lips, he felt warm air caressing over his knuckles-
He was still breathing. That was good.
By now, Soldier had lost count of how long he was sitting down here. It could be hours, or just minutes. Often he had tried calling out towards the small opening in the sky, for someone to hear them over the howling wind. He even tried climbing up the rocky ice walls to try to reach the surface. He was close, very close already, or at least he hoped. With all his powers, he clawed onto protruding rocks and iceblocks, until he slipped, and fell down back into the snow below.
“Son of a cussing cussword!!” Soldier snarled angrily as he fought himself out of the snowbank for the fourth or fifth time already.
“Don't bother, Soldierboy...”Engineer said. His voice was raspy, and he coughed a lot. Coughing seemed to hurt him as well. He cringed when he moved his body in jerks. “Ya ain't gonna make it up there.”
“This scum-sucking, maggot-eating, snow-mutated traitor of a Yeti! This hairy mutt better get down here and face me like a man, I will protect any wanderer from this kidnapping coward!”
“Soldier, how many times more ah oughta tell ya...?” Engineer sighed and pulled his coat tighter around his body to shield his body from the cold wind. “That was no Yeti. The sound of yer shotgun -”
“It got scared and then did the most rotten thing a man of his species can do – take the ground away from our very feet!”
“Yeah...yeah, sort of that...” That's when Engineer began to cough again. Harder this time. He held his gloved hand to his mouth and tried to muffle it.
Soldier looked over to the injured man. He was pale. Eyes cloudy with pain and fever. Even though Soldier had stopped the blood loss from his leg, he was still looking like a corpse that had been brought back from the dead. Comely features twisted in pain and worry.
Soldier growled – and started digging through the snow. “I will start a fire.” he said.
“A fire? Here...?” Engineer laughed weakly. “This is the deepest tundra, how would ya get a fire started here?”
“How do you think I have survived five winters in Poland, greasemonkey?” He rumbled, and proceeded to pick up sticks he finds beneath the snow.
Engineer watched with heavy eyes. He closed them, just for a minute to relax them, and as he opened them, Soldier had, somehow magically, produced a small flame on a pile of sticks, close to them in the wind-sheltered corner of the glacier. The veteran was kneeling next to him and warmed his fingers on the meek flames.
“H-How did you...?” Engineer asked. His voice was even thinner and his coughing louder.
“Patience is the key...” said the military man, as he continued to gently blow into the burning sticks to keep the flame alive. “Sun Tzu said that.”
“He did, didn’t he?” Engineer coughed again.
“You need water.” Soldier said.
“You do too, Sal...” Engineer smiled softly at the Commando. It was somehow honorable to have him being the man’s number one priority for the moment, but Soldier was also neglecting the fact that he hadn’t eaten since they left, as well. The wound at the side of his face continued to weep fresh, crimson tears.
“How will we acquire water in here?”
“We could use your...your helmet, and put some snow in there to melt it over the fire.” Engineer suggested.
It seemed merely mentioning the man's helmet made him flinch a little. He sunk in his spot, frozen for a moment, before he spoke angrily: “I am not going to take off my protection! This helmet has protected my head from missiles, bullets and Yeti fists.”
“Fine, then take mine.” Engineer took off his own helmet, and reached it over to the military man. He stared down at the yellow hardhat for a moment, then he muttered something beneath his breath, but took the offered object and began filling it with snow. There was an instant cold rush that brushed over Engineer's bald head. He shivered and pulled the hood of his coat over his head. Soldier held the helmet over the flames, and watched as it slowly thawed. It was agonizingly slowly, and judging by the coughs that came from Engineer, he was in need of it very soon.
“You're still bleeding...” Engineer mumbled as he noticed another small drop of blood had dripped off the man's jawline. “Are you in pain?”
“I need to feel this.” Soldier replied. Engineer didn't understand what he meant by that, yet before he would be able to ask, Soldier continued: “If I hadn't had my helmet on and, in fact, if YOU didn't have your own helmet on as well, you would be stranded in this cave with a broken leg while my head would be split in half. I have escaped death, I may have it take a taste of my undying spirit. Death can touch me, but it cannot take me.”
This made absolutely no sense to the Engineer. But he hadn't had the energy to question it further.
His eyes had begun to feel heavy again, growing old from staying open and observing the flickering flames. He felt a hand that touched his nape, lifting his head.
“Drink.” A voice spoke. He opened his eyes again, and saw Soldier leaning over him, holding the helmet close to his lips. The Texan understood almost immediately. He grabbed the helmet and began to drink. The water was still cold, but it felt good to calm the scratching in his throat. Once he had almost drank up the entire content of the helmet, he stopped, sighed deeply, and then sank back into the wall he leaned against. Soldier let go of his nape, and instead, placed his hand on the man's forehead. It was burning up.
Soldier let out a low huff. He did not want to show the concern he felt. But he knew, the situation was becoming worse by the minute. Engineer was in no way able to move, climb, or even stay awake for more than a few seconds. He had been switching between being conscious and asleep for the last few hours ever since Soldier had brought his leg back into place.
Soldier was aware that, if they stayed here too long, they are going to die. He may be oblivious to most situations – but survival was his forte. Without proper equipment, just his rocketlauncher would suffice, he could bring them out of here. Alas, they had a bit of rope that still clung to Engie’s hip and nothing more.
He couldn't leave Engineer behind. He couldn't. He was his teammate. His colleague. If this meant they both will die down here, then so be it.
“Ain't that jus' pathetic of us...?” muttered the Engineer. “We promised ta be back by now, with fuel for the train too. They are gonna be stuck in the coldness, like us. What if...What if they all freeze ta death in their sleep? What if they get attacked by wolves or bears or anythin'?”
Engineer coughed, softly. “I promised 'em. I promised Pyro ta be back as soon as even possible. And now look at us. They'll find us frozen at the bottom of this glacier.”
“No more words of death, cadet!” Soldier said. “This here situation may seems forlorn, but fear not, I will get us out of here.” he said, after a while. “I, too, have promised the team to bring you back safely, and I will keep to that promise.”
Engineer doesn't answer. He was fast asleep, leaning heavily against Soldiers shoulder.
The two mercenaries stayed like this, for the rest of the passing time. The flames of the fire flickered over their faces and the walls, dyeing the blue walls in soft orange tones, and the shine reached the small hole in the ceiling above them. Would anyone see the shine of the fire between the heavy snowflakes falling? Who knows.
Maybe there were several gracious gods up there that would send down an angel who would see the soft light in the thick heavy snowstorm and save them. There was a shift in the winds, certainly...
Shortly before Soldier would fall asleep, he noticed the body next to him moving. Not moving away, not moving closer, but rather...in small jerking movements. Shivers. Engineer’s voice trembled between clattering teeth. He was freezing, his hands grabbing for the ends of his jacket to pull them closer to his chest, shielding his already maltreated body from the cold.
Soldier noticed that too.
The wind had started to make the flaps of his helmet sway ever so slightly against his cheekbone.
Ague had set into the Engineer's feverish body. His muscles ached badly by how cold he felt. His eyes stung. His skin stung. Everything felt like a force was pressing his body into a shivering cube, and he wished he could pull his leg close to his body, but he could barely do that.
If only we were on the battlefield, and I could just hurry to the nearest dispenser, Engie thought. Or just wait until a stray bullet ended his misery, and he’d be spit out by the next respawn point.
The pains never lingered all that long.
This, however? This lingered. It ate him up from the inside out.
An arm suddenly looped around his shoulder. Engineer opened his eyes once more to blink through the blur of fever and exhaustion and see Soldier’s hand opening the zipper of his own coat. What was this about now, Engineer wondered, but couldn't do anything else besides letting himself be dragged up into Soldier’s lap, his upper body resting against the Soldier’s. He winced as his leg was slightly re-positioned. His arms naturally curled around the massive wall of muscles and warmth that was Soldier’s body, fearing he’d slip away. Soldier closed the zipper of his coat around the two of them– and then, he was cocooned in soft, soothing, wonderful warmth.
Engineer let out a long, deep breath. Fever clouded his mind and his brain did not register for a long time what exactly he was leaning against. Someone touched his back. Was it his mother? Was it Dad?
Was it someone he thought he’d lost, long ago? He tried lifting his head, stirring.
He caught the scent of leather, gunpowder, aftershave -
“Sal?”
“Stop fidgeting around, maggot.” Soldier snarled irritated. Engineer gave up eventually, at least until the last bits of energy his arms had were blown out of him; and he literally slumped back into the Soldier's chest. He breathed loudly and exhausted with his head resting on Soldier's collarbone, surrounded by the thick jacket the Soldier had closed around both of them.
Engineer listened to the Soldiers respiration, to the steady and soft beating of Soldier's heart. Each breath he drew lifted the Engineer up a few inches on the man’s chest, and sunk back into him as he exhaled. For the first time, in the last hours, trapped like two mice in a hole, Engineer felt safe, and comfortable. The low whistle of the wind above them echoed through his ears.
For a moment, his broken leg didn't exist. This glacier gorge didn't exist. The cold didn't exist.
It has been a whole day since they had gone missing. The pimple-faced kid kept reminding them to stay calm, while he himself seemed more restless than all mercs combined.
“Dangit, I feel guilty,” Scout confided in Sniper. “I think I egged him on, y’know.”
“Yeh did,” Sniper said.
“Oh, gee, thanks, that makes me instantly feel so much better.” Scout crossed his arms.
When he failed to get more of a reaction from the Australian, he huffed, grabbed his gun and scarf, and announced: “I’m, going out there.”
“No, yer won’t.”
Scout scoffed. “Oh, you think I won’t? I totally will! Just see!”
“Yeh not going,” Sniper closed his newspaper, and grabbed his thermos-can. “Cuz yer not going out there alone.”
Scout bounced through the snow with ease, while the Bushman seemed to instantly regret his decision of shuffling his way through knee-high snow. They followed the rope the two merc’s had left with, and followed it until it ended, blowing in the wind.
“Crikey,” Sniper growled.
“That’s not good, is it?” Scout frowned.
Sniper began searching along the floor, looking for tracks, indentions in the snow that would indicate where the two were going, or if something happened to them. Sniper liked his finger and held it up in the air.
“Oh c'mon man, we don't have time for ya ancient Aussie-tribe-hocus-pocus. We gotta get movin' a'ready.”
“That oughta be 'em.” He rumbled, ignoring the Scout who now began jogging in circles just so his toes wouldn't freeze off.
“What?” Scout frowned.
“Two trails. 'Bout foive feet ten high, hard shoe-work, a good one-twenty kilos. The other 'bout foive feet foive, a lil' nimbler than the other, round ninety kilos.”
“What the heck is a kilo?”
Sniper dismissively waves his hand about.
“It’s them, alroight.”
“Ya really able ta see that through footprints? That is actually kinda friggin’ creepy, yknow that?”
He shouldered his sniper rifle on his back again and started moving. “Yo, man, are ya sure those are them? I mean what if we end up lost as well? Yo, Snipes, I'm talkin' to ya.”
“Oi'm sure.” Sniper answered.
They followed the tracks along the mountain range. When he noticed a change in the ground. Footprints seemed to overlap. Several times.
“They went in circles,” he concluded.
“Pff, dumbasses!” Scout scoffed. Sniper gave the kid a smack behind the ears.
“That ain’t funny,” Sniper reprimanded, and dragged the kid along. “Could be lost. Could be dead. C’mon, get moving! N’ stay by my soide, yeh hear? There’s a glacier ahead.”
“A glacier? Where?”
An ominous crack beneath Scouts shoe answered the speedster’s question.
They continued, all the while the wind was howling louder than ever. It was so dark, Scout could barely see his own hand before his eyes. Ugh, why had he thought this was a good idea? This friggin’ SUCKED BALLS! And while Scout openly let off steam about the situation, Sniper stayed quiet and focused. He saw something in the distance, partly drowned out by the gray mist gathering around them. Almost looked like light.
“Scout,” he pointed at it. “Yeh seeing that, too, right?”
“Uhh, yeah! Looks like light.” Scout cocked his shotgun. “I’mma check it out!”
And with that, he ran off. Sniper warned him not to separate, but the kid would, or could not hear him. “Piss,” Sniper grumbled and followed, only half as quick as the other with snow up to his knee pits. He desperatle missed the baing heat of Asutralias outback right now.
“Can yeh see anything?” he shouted into the speedster’s direction. When no sound followed, Sniper became worried. Crikey, bet the kid fell into a bloody lake, he thought. Until -
“Here! Over here!”
Sniper quickly fought his way through the snow to catch up with the speedster. “They're down here.”
Sniper saw what Scout meant with 'down here'. Catching up, he came to a halt at a large gap in the frozen floor. The hole was deep, but he saw what Scout was pointing at. Down there, next to a slowly dying flame on a fireplace, sat a pile of clothes. Curled up tightly in the shadows, sheltered by the huge walls from wind and snow. Sniper did notice the small dried puddle of blood a few feet away.
“Yo, Engie! Engie, Egghead, are ya down there?” Scout called. The pile of clothes didn't answer. Nor moved.
“You think they're dead...?” Scout mumbled.
“No.” Sniper shook his head.
“Engie, c'mon man, wake up!!”
Sniper swiftly slapped his flat hand against the speedsters head.
“OUW!!” Scout yelped girlishly.
“Quit blubberin' yer twitchy lil mongrel, or do yeh wanna join them down there!” Sniper hissed.
“But they can’t hear us!” Scout complained. “What do you WANT me to do?”
Sniper had no reply to that. Instead, he sank on his knees and then to his stomach and inched over the sinkhole.
“Soldier? Ye down there?” Sniper called, his voice echoing through the cavern. Something moved down there.
Soldier seemed to speak but the wind echoed too loudly.
“Whot?!” Sniper called again. “Christ man, speak louder!!” Scout shouted. There suddenly was a loud crack echoing behind him, so scout winced back and kept his mouth shut with his hands.
“Leg...is...brok...Hel...”
Sniper understood.
“Scout, run back to the others. Get Heavy here.”
“I—what?”
“Jus' do whot I say!”
Scout was frozen. “Y-You want me ta go back through this effin' snow storm?!”
“Ye the fastest of us. Get Heavy here. He can get them outta there.”
“But--” the kid looked behind them, and back at the Aussie, anxiety written on his face.
“Jeremy,” Sniper took hold of the kid’s shoulders so he would look at him. “i believe in ye, alroight? Just follow the footprints, and the rope. Do it! Or they gonna die.”
“Y-yeah. Yeah, I'll get ya the Heavy here, no problem.” he quickly mumbled in feigned confidence, before he was off, running faster than he ever ran before.
Sniper cursed under his breath. They must’ve been down there for a day by now. Bloody idiot, the lot.
“Heads up!” he called down, and tossed his thermos flask down into the ravine. It landed close by Soldier’s feet, sinking into the snow. Maneuvering himself and Engineer around without hurting the man was difficult, but once his hand grabbed the bottle, he quickly opened it. The scent of tea filled his nostrils. He’d been sure the cold had burned off all of his senses of smell by now.
“Drink.” he mumbled as he held the cup to Engies lips. The texan winced and opened his eyes with a sigh. “Huh…whu...?” was all he could say. Soldier coaxed the tea down into Engie’s mouth and the tinkerer began sipping slowly, warmth flooding his body so suddenly, he shook violently.
“Dhey down here?” Heavy asked.
“Ye.” Sniper waved the mercs over to have a look themselves. Medic and Heavy leaned over the opening and spied down. The flame had gone out by then, but the blue coat of the Soldier was still visible in the darkness.
“Oh no! Herr Soldier! Do you hear me? Is zhe Engineer with you?”
“His leg is broken, Doc.” Sniper said.
“Gott im Himmel...!” Medic ran a hand over his face. “P-Please, do not vorry. Ve vill get you out of zhere, immediately.”
“How?”
“Heavy vill pull dem out.” he unwrapped the rope he had put around his shoulder.
“You can't pull zhem bozh out zhere, Heavy.”
They debated for a moment what the best course of action would be. Heavy offered going down there, but Medic vehemently denied. There was no use to it, sending the big man down there, since no one would be able to pull him back out again. And sending a lighter man down was just as useless as no one could carry the Engineer.
Someone suggested a human chain. That idea was just as bad.
“Mmahbwahst?” Pyro suggested, translating to ‘Airblast?’. But that just seemed too dangerous.
“Yo, Spy, can’t yah cloak into, like a ladder or something?”
Spy cast him an incredulous look. “I beg your pardon?”
“Like, you can cloak into RED’s, right? Maybe that works with objects too!”
Demo guffawed at this.
“Scout, zis is the most idiotic thing I have ever ‘eard.”
“Well, you’ve never tried it, right?”
“OF COURSE I’ve neveur tried it, it wouldn’t work!”
“But how would you know?”
“You—“ Spy clenched his jaw shut and heaved a frustrated sigh. “Zis is a waste of time.”
“Hrrm,” Heavy tapped his chin, deep in thought. “Ladder…”
Soldier could barely hear what was going on above, but he knew it was the rest of the team. Talking. Talking meant no actions, and no actions meant going AWOL!
“Those coddled maggots are having a damn birthday party up there!” he growled. Sorry sacks of scum! This was no talking matter! This was a matter of life and death!
He looked down at Engie’s leg and saw the makeshift bandages he had torn from his undershirt were steadily soaking with blood.
Damn it!
Soldier clenched his fists. Fresh blood drippled down his temple into his ear and soaking his coat.
Damn it all! If these mollycoddled princesses up there wouldn’t come up with an idea, then to hell with it all – he would claw his way out of here!
Soldier withdrew his shovel. With utmost care, he maneuvered the sleeping Engineer onto his back, grasping his arms and slinging them over his shoulders. Even that wouldn’t stir the tinkerer. Probably not even asleep, Soldier thought grimly. Probably passed out.
Taking the last bit of rope they had still, he tied the smaller man to his body, looping it around the man’s overalls and tying it close in front of Soldier’s stomach. The extra weight didn’t bother him. He’d carried heavier before.
But climbing, with extra weight...?
Soldier slammed the blade of his shovel into the ice. Tested its durability. Then, he climbed on top of it, front pressed to the cold wall. His other hand fished for one of the hooks for the ropes. With all the might he still had, he slammed it into the wall, tested its durability, and pulled the shovel from under his feet.
Soldier grunted loudly as he suddenly found himself dangling above the ground, carrying himself and Engineer. Sweat beaded down his face already. Taking another powerful swing, he wedged the shovel into the wall anew, and pulled himself up by the other arm.
Engie slipped. Quickly, Soldier let go of the hook, and grasped the Texan’s arm, before the poor man would fall. His arm was burning. His fingers cramping. His body rebelled against whatever the hell he was doing here – but his determination was unyielding.
His arm shook as he draws himself up, Engie in tow. He puts his boot on the hook and pushes upwards.
He repeats this process a few more times, until his body was covered in sweat and his lungs burned – and then a hook comes loose, just as he tries climbing onto it. He yelps, and like that, he hangs in the air, both hands wrapped around the handle of his shovel. The cramping in his fingers became unbearable – but if he let go now, they would both plunge back into the gorge below, and then…
With a strained cry in pain, Soldier manages to draw himself and the Engineer up until he has his body leaning over his shovel. The fact that it stayed intact through all of this was a miracle on its own. Shaking, drenched, and feeling his powers leaving him, Soldier knew he could go no further now. The last thing he could do was strap the engineer to the handle of his shovel, and hope someone managed to grab him from here. But as he looked up, he knew it would be nearly impossible. He still had a long way to go up.
Blood and sweat mingled on his brows.
“Hold on tight!”
He was. He just didn’t know for how much longer.
“Keep going!”
Soldier scowled. The voice was mocking him! What an unpatriotic thing to do!
“Just a bit further –!”
“Keep your mouth shut!!” he growled at his shovel. Of course it was shovel. The loudest, angriest, nastiest voice of them all. Mocking him relentlessly, whenever he stared too long at the blade. Under his weight, it began to slowly, very slowly, bow downwards. The handle groaned. Any second now, it would surely break.
“I can see them! Grab them!”
“I SAID KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT, YOU USELESS PIECE OF FARM EQUIPMENT—!”
“Who Soldier talking to?”
That was not Shovels voice. That was the voice of the Sputnik. Soldier looked up, that movement alone nearly robbing him of all his spare energy. Above him, the Artillerist hung from a make-shift ladder, formed of ropes and knots. Above, he could hear the other mercs straining under Heavy’s weight as they tried to keep the ropes aloft.
Heavy reached a hand out, unbuckled the Engineer’s unconscious body from Soldier’s back, and lifted him by the collar of his jacket. “Get him back to the train. Quickly.” Soldier asked. “And get the nurse to him.”
"Dha.” Heavy promised, before he started climbing back up, Engineer in one of his immensely strong arms.
“Pull!!”
With a unified yelp, the other mercs pulled the ladder and Heavy ascended to the top, vanishing behind the gap.
Soldier’s sight grew spotty.
“Hold on, lad!” Demo’s voice echoed from above as the ladder was thrown down towards him a second time. His fingers were blistered and bleeding when he unlatched them from his shovel and curled around the rope.
“Pull!!”
He reached the edges right at the point, where every molecule of his strength was blown out ultimately. He feels hands grasping his collar, dragging him from the pit below.
“Get him to the train.” Soldier growled. “Get the Medic. He must fix him up. He must. That is an order, you hear? An or...duhh...”
The spots at the corner of his vision bloomed into beautiful black flowers, clouding his senses. He barely noticed his body collapsing in the snow.
Chapter 7: Straining
Notes:
Soo uhm. I'm back! Yay!
I sincerely apologize for the lack of updates for, well. Half a year. The only excuse I have really is that I have been outside my home country since summer of 2016, been mostly writing stuff on my tablet, and writers block happened. But i'm back, and i hope to update much more frequent now.As always, this isn't beta'd, i'm not a native speaker, and there's some trigger warnings for yall, this is dealing with death. Alot. Oh yeah, also porn. Enjoy!
Chapter Text
Strips of scenes appeared before his eyes, vanishing back in a sea of darkness. He sometimes heard sounds, but couldn't quite identify them. It was all blurry. The minute he thought he grasped it, it slipped from his fingers like a slippery fish.
Engineer was, so he believed, in respawn. Somewhere stuck between reality, and death. He knew what dying felt like. This certainly came close to it. A warm embrace that bore coldness. A cold release that brings warmth.
He was, and he wasn't, at the same time.
When he opened his eyes, everything was and wasn't, too. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, even though he was very aware that he was awake. And alive.
He pawed about, at this point his hands being the only limbs he could actually move. They moved over softness, curled, grabbed.
Fabric. A blanket. He raised his other arm, once he gained the energy, held it in front of his face. His thick coat and gloves were gone. Instead, bandages wrapped around red, irritated skin, a tube attached to the crook of his arm. Had he been burned? He couldn’t even remember running into fire.
After a longer moment of staring, and figuring out just where the hell he was, and what was going on, the puzzle pieces inside his mind slowly fell into place. His eyes moved around. This was one of Medics infirmaries.
Gadgets were scattered all over tables and trays and he could hear the soft buzzing of machinery with x-ray pictures pinned on the wall. He squinted at the x-ray picture for a while. It had to be the Heavy. There was a Sandwich stuck horizontally inside his thick throat.
How the hell did he get in here? How did he manage to survive?
What base was this?
Engineer tried to wreck his mind over it, as he heard a door open, somewhere.
A voice echoing, speaking, but Engineer didn't understand it. Not until said door fell close again, and silence set in.
“Oh! Herr Engineer, you're avake.”
Medic. That was Medic for sure.
Engineer tried to speak, but nothing but a small pathetic croak broke free from his sore throat.
“Now, Now, Engie, don't talk. No need to talk.” Medic approached the cot and placed a blue gloved hand on the man's shoulder, leaning far over him.
Engineer stared back. Doc looked exhausted; more than he usually did. His usually neatly-formed tuft of black hair hung over his brow, and his glasses a little crooked.
“Ohh, your IV bag is empty.” The doctor mumbled. IV bag? Engineer turned his head to each side. He did notice the tall metallic frame holding a bag of fluids and the tube but only now he realized it actually had been attached to him. Medic changed the bag with a new one, and gave an excited little breath of air when the first few drops of concentrated medi-fluids dripped into the tube.
“Now, I believe you have questions, ja?”
Engineer nodded, weakly.
“Yes, I zhought so already. Vell..” The medic grabbed his chair and rolled it close to the Engineer's cot. “You do remember vhat happened, do you?”
Engineer hesitated.
“Zhe train, you and Soldier leaving for fuel, zhe gorge and all?”
Engieer nodded again.
“Gut. Vell, You and zhe Soldier, ve found you a few miles avay from zhe train. You have been walking into zhe wrong direction for approximately an hour, you little dummkopfs.” Medic have an amused chuckle. Seeing as Engineer furrowed his eyebrows, he cleared his throat and continued. “Err, vell, you vould have reached the town by zhen already, but...I must be fully honest, I have no clue how you two have ended up around zhat glacier.”
Medic cleared his throat once more. “Yes, anyvay – Scout and Sniper ran after you to track you down, and called me and zhe Heavy for help. Ve found you – well, you and Soldier were apparently attempting to climb up to ze surface. That being said, we brought you two back to ze train. Turns out they still had a cache of fresh gravel to use.”
Engineer blinked slowly. Oh goodness gracious – if this was true, did this mean that Soldier and him had nearly died for absolutely nothing?
He should be angry. God, he should be doggone mad! He should beat up every single person that has even so touched this god forsaken train, and then scrap the old rusty soupcan on wheels in a goddamn meatgrinder.
But Engineer couldn't be mad. Not at the others. They saved his life, after all. They brought him back home.
Engineer croaked another tone, and raised his hand, slowly spinning his finger.
“Vhere ve are right now you ask?” Medic blinked. Engie nodded.
“Vell, we are only a few miles avay from Saw Mill. Isn't it funny seeing zhis place vhe zhe sun is out for once?”
Saw Mill, huh...?
They were really far away from their last base. How long had he been out, he wondered.
Medic left for a moment, to come back with a glass of water. Gently resting his hand beneath Engineer's head, he lifted it up to let his lips meet with the rim of the glass. Engineer drank greedily.
“You vill be alright in no time, Herr Engineer. I have healed your leg, as far as zhat has been necessary. Herr Soldier has done a surprisingly swell job in setting your leg back into place, I must say. In my medical opinion--”
Soldier.
Had Medic just said something about him and Engie climbing up that ravine?! Engineer sat up and the world was spinning, He groaned,
“Now, now, Engineer!” Medic placed his hand on the man's shoulder, and gently pushed him down into his cot again. “Easy, mein Freund. Ve do not vant you to break your ozher leg, do ve?” he laughed. But Engineer didn't feel like laughing at all. He had to know if Soldier was alive. And if he was alive, how he had survived.
“S-Soldier...” Engineer managed to rasp.
“Ohh, Herr Soldier? He is fine, do not vorry.”
Okay, but where is he?
“He has been vith you zhe whole time down in zhat gorge, hasn't he? Oh, he really does come close to a hero, sometimes at least, doesn't he?”
“W-Where...?” Engineer wheezed.
“Oh, vhenever he is not pulling his IV cords out of his arm and starts doing sit-ups and pushups and all zhat nonsense zhat certainly does not help his healing process, he is pulling zhrough. I should strap him to his bed...” Medic pondered “He's right next door. Don't vorry, you vill see him, eventually,”
Engineer blinked tiredly He wanted to ask more. But he was so, so tired.
He slept most of the time, unless one of the mercs came to visit him. They filled in the blanks for him about what happened. Pyro had left a few pieces of candy for Engineer, a big colorful lollipop, sour drops and chocolate, all the sorts of candy that Engineer did not actually like, but he would eat it, once he would get better.
He did get better. Slowly, but at least, he recovered. His fever stopped wreaking havoc inside his body, leaving him fresher during the day.
The nights were still difficult. When he was lying alone in the infirmary, he gradually came to the conclusion that, if Soldier had not been there, Engie would have for sure died down there.
He doesn’t remember much. But he remembered the feeling of his belt between his teeth and the pain when Soldier had set his leg back in place.
He owed this man his life, he knew that. Again.
Darn.
And there he was again, with his face pressed into his pillow, unbidden thoughts and emotions tugging at his sanity.
Don’t, Conagher. Don’t, don’t, don’t.
But there was no hope this time. The memories persisted. When the Engineer fell asleep, he fell asleep to the feeling of Soldier’s chest against him. When he closed his eyes, he smelled the other’s scents, aftershave, gunpowder, a hint of sweat and leather.
Engineer woke up. He heard someone approaching. Medic...? No. No, this was...
Soldier stood in front of his cot. He looked down at him, believing he was asleep. Soldier didn't wear his jacket, nor his shirt. In the darkness, and with one, half-opened eye, he bandages wrapped around his torso, and one around his head, albeit obscured by the helmet.
Once he noticed all this and his hazy mind caught up, Engineer instantly wanted to straighten himself and ask if he was alright. If everything he heard was true. Ask him how the hell he managed to climb up the gorge, with Engie on top, and no climbing gear.
When he did, pain shot up his right side, and he hissed.
A hand on his shoulder gently pressed him back into the mattress, squeezed lightly, before slipping away again. Footsteps echoed, as the man left again.
Engineer believed, he was going to go for the door again. But no. Soldier moved over to one of the chairs carelessly pushed to the side, the metal slightly creaking under Soldiers weight. And then, silence. Nothing but the sound of Soldier's deep respiration.
It had to be somewhere, very early in the morning, when Engineer woke up once more. He heard sounds again. The sound of the chair creaking, footsteps. They moved past him. Stopped by his bed, for only a moment, before continuing towards the door. The door opened, and then closed.
When Engineer came around, he was instantly send straight back to the front line, his first mission after his off-duty period being at Goldrush.
It was a nice little change, having to fight in ice and snow, and now fighting in the baking heat. Engineer was born and raised in this weather of what Pop’s used to call 'the devils armpits'.
Hence, the heat was nothing Engineer bothered a lot.
He did however hate the dust. Dust, dust everywhere. Texas was forty percent dust and the rest, at least, consisted of small grasses, horses and cattle, sometimes a palm tree, sometimes a cactus. If you were lucky, even a fully grown oak.
Soldier gave his usual lecture before the fight, throwing words like 'Victory' and 'YOu better not disappoint me, maggots!'
Had he ever had the chance to actually thank the man in the first place? He couldn't remember.
It did feel awkward and unprofessional to simply approach him like this and go 'By the way, thanks for letting me sleep in your jacket, I surely would have died if it wasn't for your what you'd probably call unmanly behavior that you surely wouldn't like to admit in front of the rest of the team.'
Nah. That didn't sound right. It didn't feel right. He wanted to thank the man, one way or another, but how? He hadn’t figured that out yet.
And before he could further deliberate, the gates opened, and the team rushed out. A rainfall of missiles, bullets, and grenades greeted the team upon entering the area.
BLU Sniper was instantly struck down the moment he held his head in reach of the red dot dancing around his forehead, followed by a ‘Blam!’, and Sniper collapsing.
Heavy and Medic rushed out, pressing their backs to the back of the cart, and pushed. Rusty, screeching wheels began moving, sliding across the tracks at an alarmingly slow pace.
Scout rushed past the Engineer, followed by Soldier's rocket striking against the wall and catapulting him up into the skies. Scout dodged, jumped, shot, hit the enemy's Demo point blank in the face, dropped a comment along the lines of “Beat it, creep!” and send the cart twice as fast down its tracks.
Engineer rushed out as well. He set his sentry up, guarded by the team slowly beginning to push their way through enemy lines.
The cart was pushed towards the small passage inside a foundation of wood and cement. From right and left, RED's appeared seemingly out of nowhere, mowing down heavy and Medic, and from there on striking down anyone daring to approach the cart. Engineer saved himself and his packed-up sentry behind a wall. The others followed suit, pushing against the concrete to find shelter from bullets and rockets.
And from above, a shadow came flying towards them. Engie drew his wrench, believing a venturous RED had snuck behind their front lines – But no.
“Maggot!” A familiar raucous voice growled. “We are in the minority. Those RED bastards think they can shoot down MY army?!”
Soldier was covered in a sheen of sweat and dust, breathing in deep puffs of air against the baking heat. Just looking at the opened collar of the other, Egie could see the man’s usually white shirt drenched in sweat. His eyes were fixed on him, watching muscles strain and move under that taut blue coat, saw the spots of sweat around his exposed neck, his large torso expanding and lowering again and making the buttons creak with how deep and hard he was breathing.
Engineer's throat felt so dry, he had to gulp – twice.
“WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT, RODEO CLOWN?!” The Soldier bellowed after a short moment. “Deploy a sentry here! Dispenser here! Pick your damn daisies later, AND GET YOUR SORRY ASS TO WORK!”
This time, Engineer flinched enough to drop his toolbox, and the sentry started opening up. Not necessarily where Engineer had intended for his equipment to be, it was either gonna be a secured area like this, or at the front lines. When he looked up, Solder had vanished again.
He set the sentry up, immediately followed by its alerted bleeping and the sound of bullets being hauled into someone’s body. A cry erupted, and Engineer was not quite sure who he just shot - sure was, however, that his sentry had taken damage. Small bullets, shrapnel, whatever came its way outside from behind the cart, his sentry was hit, minimally, yet it lead the Texan to abandon his slowly erecting dispenser to rush over to his sentry.
Heavy and Medic were still up and pressing themselves against the wall opposite of Engineer, waiting for the ubercharge to build up.
“How much, Doktor?” Heavy bellowed.
“Not much longer!” The doctor called back, leaning into the hallway –
Blam!
“Guaargh!!”
Engineer flinched at the sound coming from the German. Shotgun shells blasted past the Engineers face, searing hot, and nearly missing the tip of his nose. Medic was holding the bleeding stump that once might have been his arm.
“Doktor!!” Heavy cried out in panic. Blood gushed onto the dust and the German whimpered, pressing hard against the wall. He had dropped the medigun. And Engineer could hear heavy footsteps echoing through the corridor, a similar voice with a thick German accent calling “I am fully charged!”
RED's Heavy was approaching. And they had their uber ready.
Quick-witted, Engineer rushed over to his dispenser construction, jabbed his hand into the slot.
“Heavy!” he called. “Catch!”
Through the air, past flying bullets and drops of blood, a sandvich tumbled through the air. A slice of tomato sadly slipped from between the two slices of bread, and landed straight in the remaining eye of the enemy's demo, who just had the courage to rush outside and into their frontline. The scotsman staggered back in confusion over being now completely blind, before Engineers sentry blew him into smithereens.
Heavy caught the sandvich with his massive hand. “Engineer ees credit to team!” he cheered.
Engineer tipped his hardhat.
Once Medic took a generous bite, his arm instantly grew back into its original form, with clothes and glove and everything. The doctor picked up his medigun.
“I am fully charged.” RED Medic's voice echoed from behind the cart.
“I am charged!” BLU Medic added.
“They're comin'!” Engineer called, one hand at his helmet as he quickly hid behind the sentry.
And then, both Heavy's collided. One coated in a glowing blue shine, the other in a searing hot shimmer.
“Grryaaah!” both Heavies bellowed, so loud the ground beneath Engineer was shaking. Bullets spew in all four directions.
BLU used that momentum, and broke a way through them, past their defenses, and into their base, pushing the cart simultaneously. The moment the RED Medics ubercharge dropped, BLU Spy appeared from thin air, ramming his knife first into the Germans back, then into the Heavy's. For once, Engineer was glad Spies existed. Especially theirs.
Engineer kept a glance at his teleporter - and squinted, suspicious.
Something wasn't right. Usually, the teleporter took, depending on the upgrades it received, a little less than a few seconds to bring someone from a to b. His current one, however, stopped rotating in between, meaning no one could enter. Those that did finally enter looked immensely pissed.
"That thing's broken!" Scout complained.
"Teleport is poot!" Heavy growled.
"Eugh, I feel nauseous." Demo held his stomach as he tumbled from the teleporter.
“An issue with the teleport traffic, labourer?” Spy hissed.
“Ah dunno. Seems like it's malfunctionin'. I never had that issue.”
Spy, seeing as the current situation wouldn't allow him to step outside anyway, since their gate was spammed with sticky bombs, he crouched next to the engineer.
“No sappeur.” he muttered.
“I know, this ain't no sapper's work.” Engie furiously clanked his wrench into the metal, until it showed an angry dent. Pyro finally emerged, and tumbled out from the platform with a startle squeak. Obviously, the sudden transportation came rather unexpected to the firebug.
“Ah hell, sorry Pyro. Teleporter's actin' weird.” he apologized.
“Mhhph!” they wheezed at the two with anger, and then turned again to join the team. Engineer noticed something odd, there at the back of Pyro's head.
“What in tarnation...? Ya seein' this too?” He looked to the spy, who indeed, noticed the strange green lump on the back of the Pyro's neck. Not beneath the mask, but straight on top, and Pyro would scratch at it sometimes. “Looks like the kid's comin' down with some sort of infection.” Engineer muttered.
“I really do not believe we 'ave ze time to worry about zis at ze moment.” the Frenchman muttered, as he watched Scout trying to slip past the enemy's line, Bonk! in hand.
He did manage to slip past the sentry with a glorious 'Can't hit what ain't there, pal!' but the large, strong hand of the enemy's soldier closed around the boy's neck behind the next corner – the exact moment the bonk lost its power – and with a sadistic grin on the madman's face, broke the boy's neck with a loud, disgusting 'crack' and a satisfied “Huttah!” echoing across the field.
The speedster slipped from his grip, but Soldier wasn't done with him, not by far, starting to grab his shovel and –
Now, he was sure their Soldier was batshit crazy. Lovable, still crazy. But there was no way he would ever exchange him with the red-clothed psychopath across from them, who started digging the blade of his shovel into the boy's neck until his head was separated with a sickening crunching noise, and held it up into the air by the scalp like a trophy.
Only moments later, the entire RED Team, respawned, and overhealed, stormed at the small gateway the BLU had gathered in.
The battle imploded so fast, it took Engineer several seconds to realize what was going on. The sudden pain of a thin, burning bullet piercing into his arm startled him into action.
In the heat of the moment, and with a gust of sense left, Demo and Sniper slipped on the floor, hid behind the cart. It moved. And Sniper and Demo saw their chance, using the cart as their own shield to progress further.
Bullets and bombshells spew into their direction, hitting the payload, but not the Aussie and Scotsman behind.
“Stop shooting the cart you maggot!!” RED Soldier yelled and smacked the RED Demo upside down. “You will blow it up right in our center! Scatter!! Grab them from behind! KILL THEM IN THE NAME OF GEORGE WASHINGTON!” he spat.
Stickybombs galore came tumbling towards the payload.
The teleporter made a ‘swoosh’ noise, and Engineer found himself face to face with the Soldier once more. The other didn’t even notice him. He scowled at his RED counterpart.
“This scum-sucking hippie,” he hissed, words dripping like venom from his split, dirt-covered lips, brushing past Engineer's neck. The Texan shuddered involuntarily. “Giving out orders?! LIKE A DAMN SEARGANT?! I AM THE SEARGANT HERE!!”
And with that, Soldier squeezed past the wall of bodies that Heavy, Medic and Pyro formed to press further into enemy lines, into the chaos of bullets and rockets. Engineer called for him to come back, but to no avail – Soldier practically launched himself into the battle.
The cart proceeded to move along the rails, towards the last point. They still had time, Engineer reminded himself, Still time. He had to move his equipment, now.
Packing up dispenser and Sentry, he ran into a secured corner, behind the wooden tower, right at the enemy's vulnerable, unprotected side. The sentry set up, instantly, it shot down unaware RED's, while Engineer hurried to get his teleporter. He knew his sentry was in a sensitive place, guaranteed to be sapped or blown down, but so be it, the teleporter was more important. Then, his PDA began frantically blinking.
“Spy's sappin' mah telepor – What in the heavens?!”
He had rounded the corner. Indeed. There was the RED Spy. Obviously disguised, he had used the teleporter to sneak up from behind – but there was something awfully wrong with him. Green lumps, blisters all across the man's face and suit. The Spy frantically scratched at them, hoping it would ease the pain and itch, he screamed and squealed. “Aide! Aide-moi!!!”
Yeah, Engineer helped him alright – pulled his shotgun and send a salve into the spy's skull, brain splattered into the walls and the body slumped to the floor. Engineer shuffled to him, staring down at the damage. Green blisters throbbed under the Spy’s skin, even after his brains were blown out. When he poked it, it popped open like an overripe zit, green go pouring out. The stench was overwhelming.
What in Sam's hill was that? It looked the same as the lump Pyro had on his back. Just much, much worse.
Engineer stared at his teleporter.
Something was absolutely not right. He cocked his shotgun anew, and fired.
Medic leaned down. Adjusted his glasses. Gave an interested humming noise. When the heat of battle had calmed and everyone packed up, Engineer pulled the Medic aside for a quick look at his teleporter – and the remains of the Spy. New green blisters had formed on his skin – even after death.
"Fascinating," the German muttered.
“What'cha thinkin', doc?”
“Vell.” Medic hummed. “Ve should take zhis one back home. I have a theory. But ve vill have to prove it.” he took a firm hold on Engineer's shoulder. “Mein Freund, it's time to practice medicine... and science! Ve vill need your teleporter, lots of clipboards – and bread!”
If Engineer, or Medic had known the actual reason for this chaos, neither would have been so cheerful as they were at the beginning. They teleported bread. Nothing happened. They teleported again. Nothing happened. Engineer was confused at first as to how this was possible, seeing that he had clearly witnessed the enemy's Spy writhing in pain, just moments after leaving the teleporter.
And then, at the third piece of bread – it happened.
“How long before zhese tumors kill us?” Spy inquired. Engineer felt a lump, thick in his throat and didn't answer. Luckily, he didn't have to. Medic began rambling down a few statistics.
“Let's see, we use zhe teleporter, let's say, six times per day. Times four years, minus, we're not bread...” And then he turned to the group of confused, startled, devastated mercenaries.
“Zhree days. Yes. Ve all have zhree days to live!”
Not really three days anymore by this time; At least sixty-eight hours left.
Three days weren't much. Heck, in fact, it was practically nothing. His life, compared to those last sixty-eight hours, suddenly became small. Small and petty. How often had he complained he was growing old and weak, already living too long on this rotten planet – and suddenly, he had only limited time left. Engineer tried not to let this come between his work. He had to figure a way out of this. This was new. In the last ten years of his work, he had never encountered something like this. There had to be an explanation for this, he just had to find it, and he had to find it quick.
Engineer leaned over his working table, either alone, or with Medic helping along. Calculations, tests, more calculations, theories and adducing reasons and arguments, and then more tests, and so on and so on; stretched over hours. Engineer didn't sleep, but that was hardly a bother to the man anymore. He had survived many days without sleep, with constant work and loads of cups of coffee. Sleep deprivation was still only a small problem, compared to the one ahead of them. Forty hours or so were left. Engineer stopped checking the deathwatch on his wrist. It was too distracting.
Medic, despite not sleeping a single minute either, looked much, much better than him. He was surprised how easy the physician dealt with the news of his certain death. Engineer wasn't sure if talking about such things during working hours was inappropriate, so he casually implied something, about what he believed would come after death and so on. Tedious theories he didn't even believe in since it defied all reasons and all logic of science.
And like him, Medic was a man of science. So the answer he received after asking him how he was so calm in this dire situation, Medic curled his lips slightly.
“See, my hard-hatted friend; I know a certain someone down in hell...”
He snickered a little, and began flicking with a pen over his knuckles. Engineer didn't understand entirely, though, seeing as Medic's grin was edging towards manic almost, he didn't ask further.
Though, he trusted the man to have his reasons to be calm. In fact Engineer should take a page out of his book.
There was someone else who was awfully calm about the due date – and it was Soldier. Engineer, advised to take a break, walked along the corridors towards his quarters. That's when he noticed Soldier was sitting in the hallway. A teleporter in front of him, he was shoving loafs of bread into the entrance, which then popped back up on the other side of the room. Engineer didn't understand how this man was just wasting the last few minutes of his life, doing nothing but this. He wasn't making calls, like Sniper had done. He wasn't writing his testament like Demo, or tried fulfilling his dying wish, like Scout did.
He was just sitting there. Doing what he liked to do most.
Teleporting bread.
Engineer couldn't tell why, probably the lack of sleep, but he felt sad watching him sitting there, and giving a gruff giggle whenever bread tumbled out of the teleporter exit. The bucket in his arm, he shoved pretzels, toast, buns and cinnamon rolls from one side to the other.
“Hey, Sal,” Engineer greeted. His voice sounded awfully thin and soft, like he was talking to a child rather than three-hundred pounds pure anger and muscles. Soldier flinched, and looked over his shoulder. The giggles were gone. He looked caught. Then stern. Engineer was almost glad to see anything besides casualty on his face, but on the other hand, he feared he was not welcomed in whatever strange last-hours-ritual Soldier was currently engaged in.
Engineer carefully approached.
“So, uhm.” he coughed. “Teleportin' bread, ah see?”
“Affirmative.” Soldier said. Engineer sat down. Crosslegged, like Soldier, and watched as the army man placed a wholemeal bread on the glowing blue teleporter. It popped up, seconds later, on the other side of the room. Covered in green tumors. Engineer gulped heavily. It seemed Soldier was beginning to place bread more carefully onto the teleporter, now that he had an audience. More precise and adjusting it further, until he let it slip away.
“I have done nothing but teleport bread the entire day.”
“That's...nice, Soldier.” Engineer grinned, forcefully. "Well, keep at it, pardner."
He wanted to yell at him. Wanted to smack him and yell to wake up, do something, anything to enjoy the last hours of his goddamn life he had Was his life really not worth it? Because Engineer's was. But instead, he worked to find a solution. And Soldier just...sat there, on his own. Gleefully watching bread popping up in various places.
And yet on the other side Engineer wanted to wrap himself around Soldier and comfort him, tell him it's going to be alright. That's what Soldier had done for him in a situation where they knew they would be dead by sunlight. So, Engineer placed a hand on Soldier's shoulder. Soldier stiffened. Stared at him; angrily? No. Confused? Not really. Apprehensive, yes. He actually flinched just the tiniest bit.
“How you feelin'?” He asked after a moment. “You holdin' up?”
“What gave you the impression I didn't, greasemonkey?” He hissed.
“Well, jus' askin'. We got about twenty hours left, not even a day.”
“I am aware of the time, hardhat. I, too, have a deathwatch.” he held up his wrist, the deathwatch strapped around his left arm.
Engineer nodded. “So I noticed.”
A pause, neither spoke, but Engineer watched the man tending back to the task he found most important, and that was teleporting goods to the other room and back.
“Now, this is...somethin' new, eh?”
Soldier paused and looked at him. “What is new?” he asked.
“The, uh, the thing with the tumors. Dyin', yknow? I mean - We been close ta death on a daily base, ain't we? And now, well, now it's the real deal.”
Soldier gave a grunt, fishing another loaf of bread from his newly acquired bucket and slipped it into the glowing blue lights. It tumbled to the floor, ten feet away from them.
“Ya oughta think, yknow? ‘Bout what could have happened. What's gonna come and so on.” he hoped he would be greeted with realization from Soldiers side. But no - Not even a budge. So he went further. “Some folks get scared of that, y'see?”
“I do not condone such trivial things, hardhat!” Soldier shoved a bagel into the teleporter. “If I have to, I will stare death in the eye and give that flimsy son-of-a-bitch a taste of my undying American spirit.”
Engineer sat still. Not answering that string of incoherent thoughts coming from Soldier's mouth. Maybe he was truly not afraid of death. Like the rest of the team seemed to be. Maybe, he simply hid it well, so well, not even a single wrinkle on the man's face strained.
Or, which Engineer found to be most plausible – Soldier did not understand the gravity of the situation. For some reason Engineer envied that. Ignorance is bliss, after all.
“I remember ya once told me death ain't touchin' ya.” He said, absentmindedly, and his thoughts trailed back to the icy pit, blood pooling down the man's temple, and the following collapse the man endured due to the grave concussion. He knew about this, since Medic had told him. Of course, nothing he would not have been able to fix, but the sheer amount of power this man seemed to have to overcome such a thing as a full-force blow to the head, and still be able to carry him, half-way up an ice wall– it was a miracle.
“Death can touch me, and now, if it is inevitabe death shall take me – if that slim bastard dares to!”
Engineer paused. Caught in thoughts, he watched cinnamon rolls pop up on the other side of the hallway.
Something told him that he shouldn't leave Soldier alone for the next few twenty hours of their lives. True, if Soldier wanted to spend like this, he wouldn't pry, and instead, perhaps, worry about more important things. But for some stupid reason, Engineer would rather have him in the company of anybody. Nobody in the team would be willing to put up with him, he was sure about that.
He gently squeezed the man's shoulder, giving a fond smile, and then told him: “Say, could I interest yer in a cold beer and cigar at mah workshop after lights out?”
Soldier stopped staring at the teleporter, and looked up to the Texan.
“Ah still have a crate of Blu-Streak bear and well, would be a shame if'n I let it go to waste when I'm...dead.” he actually hesitated speaking out that word. “Jus' for, you know – for old times’ sake.”
Soldier made a thoughtful growl and placed the bucket aside. “I shall arrive at your workshop then, at 2000 hour, approximately.”
“Great.” Engineer nodded with a forced, toothy grin. “Well, I'm leavin' ya to it then. See ya later...” He gave Soldier a friendly pat on the shoulder and got back up on his feet, moving to his room.
His vision clouds. His hand holds onto the wall, before he could collapse and fall down the staircase.
He was sleep-deprived. He was probably running low on nourishment but he couldn't bring himself to eat anything. Suddenly, the idea of skipping work and sleeping, just for an hour, or maybe two, was tempting. So tempting that Engineer actually, automatically, moved towards his bed - He stopped, and shook his head like a drenched dog. No, he couldn't sleep. He still had to find the cause of this malfunction in his gadgets. He was the one who put all of this on his teammates, he had to set it right again.
He forced himself not to head to the bed, but straight back to his desk, to the large stack of paperwork, to the blueprints and scrap metal and the teleporter he had to disassemble and –
Engineer made it half way across the room. He collapsed, luckily, landing softly on the couch instead of the hard concrete floor.
Wait. No. NO!
He couldn't sleep. Not now! He had to return to his work, right away! With a huff, he pushed himself off of the couch, and shuffled towards his desk, his hardhat put aside and his goggles pulled down around his neck. His vision was swimming for a few moments until the focused again.
Blueprints. Right. He remembered. He looked outside the tiny basement window and saw the sun as setting. He had to hurry. His head felt cotton-stuffed but he couldn't skip work. “C'mon Conagher.” he said, fished for his pen, the cold and tasteless cup of coffee he left there last time he as in his room, took a huge gulp. “Concentrate.”
Where was he? Right. Medic and he had completely disassembled the teleporter he had used on the battlefield and found nothing, besides a few loose bolts and some minor scratches along the casing. Then that mean it had to be somehow related to the teleportation itself –
I'm starving.
Engineer shook his head. You can eat later, he told himself, and continued.
Creating a wormhole inside the construction wasn't that hard, but in order to find tumors in your body – Engineer knew how different universes worked, and perhaps, he wondered, this said wormhole was somehow connected to a timeline where his entire team had tumors to begin with. He knew the mercenary that stepped into the teleporter was the same mercenary that appeared on the exit side. Did that imply –?
I'm so tired.
Engineer rubbed over his head, his sandy hair rasping against the yellow glove. So, a different timeline, he recollected. Teleporters were able to pick up different timelines by codes that changed gradually. Maybe the one he currently had was …
No. This was not possible either. This timeline had to have gotten those tumors from somewhere as well. You don't just develop metastasizing tumors all over your body, not this many, and not in such rapid velocity.
Which means, he was back where he started.
I still have that blueprint Medic handed me.
Engineer stopped rubbing at his heavy eyes. He looked over to the pile of old scraps and spare blueprints. He shouldn't. He wasn't allowed to get distracted. In less than fourteen hours, he would be dead. And he still had no results.
But – oh hell. If he was going to die, he could at the very least take a look, right? He pulled it from the stack and placed it on the desk, spreading it out and smoothing it down with his flat palm.
It was a design for a sentry that was small, and handy. It was tiny, compared to a level one sentry gun, with red and white checkers on the casing, and a red spinning light on the top. Medic had handed him the blueprints he 'borrowed' from Saxton Hales office, after another unsuccessful match.
“Mein Freund!" he had caught up with the Engineer, and had pressed the blue schematics into his hand. “Don't tell zhe mustache man – but I found ZHIS atz his office. Don't tell anybody.” Medic winked.
Engineer had been immensely grateful, he studied the construction plans and circuit boards. The sentry would be only half of the usual resources he needed. He could easily pick it up, carry it around, place it somewhere new. He could finally catch up with the others, effortlessly.
“Well, sometimes you just need a lil' less gun, eh?” he had joked and laughed. “Doc, this is amazing! Looks like I'm not gonna be stayin' behind from now on, eh?”
“Yes, ah…” Medic tugged nervously at his collar. “You should read the, uh – fine print, too.”
The 'fine print' turned out to be a warning message at the far top corner. The sentry was too fragile for the usual wrench. Which means, he had to use a different tool.
He gulped, as he read the instructions.
“The amputation of the hand starts by cutting off essential blood circulations going into the hand. First, the layers of skin and muscles are separated from the bone. – Consult your local medic for the procedure, and do not, at any circumstances, try said steps without the supervision of a physician (with or without a medical license).“
That was about as much as he was willing to read. No wonder he had conveniently ‘misplaced’ it, considering what tzhis blueprint was asking of him here.
Cutting off his own hand…His dominant one, too. Could he actually do that? He had asked Medic’s opinion.
“Mein Freund, I am alvays interested in zhe morbid pleasures of amputations. But ve are talking about permanent loss here. You should think about zhat.”
And he was right.
He had forgotten about it, that was, until Goldrush. When he watched from afar as the RED Engineer moved out of respawn, equipment in hand. When he slipped off his glove to wipe at his sweaty brow, Engineer saw it for the first time.
The man’s wrist was fused with a metal casing, and five long, metallic fingers poked from an iron roll-joint. It was a fascinating sight, watching those metal digits curl and uncurl so naturally, as though they were of flesh and bone. It was only bested in grotesqueness by the sudden teleporter malfunctioning.
And now, what does it matter? He may not find his answer for the faulty teleporting system – but perhaps he could spend his last few hours building this little gunslinger’s toy. He liked that name. Gunslinger…
He lost limbs all the time – it would hurt, sure. But he could handle it, surely.
It must have been his caffeine and sleep-deprived mind that drove him down this road. His body was twelve steps ahead of his mind, as his hand reaches for one of Scout's cleavers hanging on the wall across from him.
He strips off his glove.
Are you mad, Conagher?
“Maybe I am,” Engie laughed. Maybe I finally have gone off his rocker. His chuckle is hollow. And he didn't know how to stop himself now, as he places his right arm in position. The cleaver dangled there, between where his arm ended and his hand began.
If you’re gonna do it, Conagher, he chided himself, then you better cut that piece of crap off clean.
Pow, pow, pow, the door trembled with every heavy knock on the door. Engineer flinched, retreating his hand and dropping the cleaver on the table.
Who the hell was this now, he wondered? Didn't they know he was busy?
Grunting, he hauls the cleaver into the desk, and it sunk deep into the wood, trembling from the impact as Engineer heaves himself up the small staircase and to the door. For a moment, he was a little surprised to see Soldier standing there.
He straightened, chest out, clicking the heels of his boots together. “Engie.” he said.
“Sal.” He nodded. “Uh, can ah help y--?”
“It is approximately 2000 hours.” Soldier interrupted him. “I've come to report for debriefing.”
“Debr-- oh!” Engineer slapped his hand to his forehead. “It's eight alright, isn't it?” he peered to the clock. It was indeed. “Gosh, yes, come in then.” he quickly closed the door after the Commando stepped down the stairs, and he followed.
Obviously, Soldier stopped and started looking around. He couldn't truly remember the last time Soldier actually had ever come down into his workshop. A few times, to deliver a malfunctioning weapon or to excitedly knock on every door on every important American holiday morning.
But that was just short trips for him, and now, he was down here and soaking in his surroundings.
“I'm very sorry, must have forgotten the time. Heh.” he grinned sheepishly. “Uh, make yerself at home, Sal. Ya can take off yer jacket if ya wish. Oh, uh, I'm apologizin' fer the mess. I'm a lil' scatterbrained today, I must confess.”
“Negatory.” Soldier said after a while. “Do not apologize. NEVER apologize for manifesting your hard labor.”
Engineer couldn't help but grin softly. “Heh. Am jus', yknow … tryin' ta fix some things.”
“What is this?” Soldier, with the attention-span of a five year old, ignored him, and marched over to the drafting table, instantly picking up the stack of blueprints.
“Ah, uh those are, err -!”
“I see you are working on new inventions?” he asked.
“Well, sorta.” Engineer quickly followed the rocketman, fearing he could scatter important documents. “This is jus' uh, well, I'm still tryin' ta fix the teleporter, yknow.”
Soldier lowered the blueprints, like they were too valuable to be touched.
“Roger that.” he said gruffly, hands at his back. “Engineer, if my presence is hindering you from accomplishing your works--”
“Oh, nah, nah, no worries, Solly.” Engineer chuckled, bending down to open the small fridge, and pulling out a crate of beer. “Been strugglin' ta concentrate the last few hours anyway. Guess takin' a break fer now should be alright.” he passed the beer to the Soldier. “There ya go, Sal. Fresh n' ice-cold. Glad ya agreed ta help me finish this crate. Would have been a waste ta see this beer, well, not bein' appreciated after we, eh – Die. Now, hol' up a sec, where did ah take that bottle opener...?”
Smash!!
Engineer flinched so hard he nearly dropped the crate on his foot. He wheeled around, and spotted Soldier, grimacing as he stared down at the broken throat of the bottle in his hand. He had simply smashed the neck at the table to open it.
“Dagnabbit dammit, Sal!” Engineer breathed. “Yer givin' me an early death.”
“An early what?” Soldier lifted the broken bottle to his mouth.
“Sal, no!” Engineer quickly grabbed the man's arm, and Soldier flinched back.
“This is MY bottle!” he growled.
“I ain’t gonna have ya swallow pieces of broken glass on my watch.” Engineer quickly fished out his wrench from his belt, and opened the cap of his own bottle with a skillful flick. “There. Much safer, ain't it?”
Soldier stared a little dumbfounded. It seemed that literally any other way to open a bottle never occurred to the man, and that this was probably the closest to a magic trick Soldier had ever seen.
Engineer kicked two plastic chairs into the center of the room. “'tis been a long day, I'm completely spent. Ya mind?” Engineer removed his hardhat, but left his goggles on. He slumped down into the seat. Soldier didn't. Beer in his hand, he just stared back at the Engineer inquisitively.
“Well, c'mon then. It ain't bitin'.” he patted the chair. Soldier slowly approached. Each step felt like he was cautiously avoiding landmines while trying to walk as straight and normal as possible. He sat down, emphatically slowly. The plastic creaked softly under his weight. He eyed the drafting table across from them, filled with scrap metals, notes hanging on the wall, empty coffee mugs stacked into a tiny dish tower.
“Are you and the Kraut making any progress?” he asked. Engineer wasn't sure if he should lie to him or not. He could rattle down all the things he has (or hadn’t) solved, and end up with a frustrated Soldier due to not him understanding all the complex details. Or he could tell him how it was – that after three days with little to no sleep, he was approaching his limits.
“Well, ah suppose we are getting' there.” he said, and took a long drag from his bottle. He didn't like the sound of this sentence all by its own, so he added. “The doc and me been takin' apart loads'a teleporters recently. Funny enough, there seems absolutely nothin' wrong, really. Nothin' outta the ordinary. It's jus' the ol' teleporter I've been usin' all along. Of course there is the possibility that this has been an issue from day one and now it's decidin' ta become a problem.”
He ran a hand over his face. Then, silence. Neither spoke a word for a good amount of time. There was the softest buzzing of machinery in the background, and occasionally movement above them when another merc stomped along the base. Engineer scvoured his mind for a topic to talk about. Sure, he enjoyed the quietness. But quietness is unlike silence. For quietness is gentle and soft. And silence is forceful.
“So, uh. Enough ’bout me - How's the bread-teleportin' goin'?” he asked.
“It's doing well.” Soldier nodded. “I have teleported five hundred breads by today.”
“Wowee. Five hundred eh?” Engineer took a big swig from his bottle. “If that ain't some number. Ya sure are pumpin' up mah teleportin' rate for the entire month.”
Engineer chuckled a little, an attempt at dissolving some of the awkwardness left between them. It felt like the very oxygen was replaced with heavy, awkward cotton. Engineer drank.
“So, uh. May I ask ya, uh. Why?”
“Why what?” Soldier asked.
“Why teleportin' bread?”
Soldier tapped a finger against the neck of the bottle, then takies a sip. “Classified.”
“Oh?”
“I'm not entitled to tell you my business, civilian.”
“Well, this business is involving mah teleporter. Yer don’t s’ppose I do have some right ta know?”
Soldier's grunted. He noticed the man was not looking at him at all, and his free hand began clenching. Engineer assumes he's uncomfortable. That's not his intention. So, he places a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I'm jus' kiddin'. Ya don't have to tell me.”
But Soldier looked thoughtful. They both finished their beers, and opened up new ones. “If you are so interested, you can join me teleporting bread later.” he said.
“Hm? Oh, uh. Well, I'm probably goin' back to work after --”
“It may be of use to you.” he pressed.
“How so?” Engie frowned. Soldier's jaw clicked. It always did when he was particularly frustrated, or angry. Engie realized he might have upset the Soldier by questioning his actions, but instead of lashing out, he muttered. “You and Medic teleport bread all the time.”
“Well, yeah. that's true. But we're doin' that for, yknow, scientific reasons.”
“So am I.”
Engineer paused before the bottle reached his lips. With all due respect, he believed intelligence was not a matter of who you are, and he gladly gave the benefit of the doubt to anybody, no matter how smart they appeared. But Soldier? Doing science? That felt unreal and, simply said, ridiculous. The man had trouble reading. How was he supposed to even know what he was doing?
He pondered if this was Soldier’s way of attempting to contribute. He didn't ask him. He knew Soldier would instantly grow sour, and right now, Engineer enjoyed sitting and talking to someone else for just a while, and the fuzzy bubbling inside the pit of his stomach was slowly lulling his body and mind into a state of relaxation. Along with his tongue.
“This is nice.” Engineer said, and slumped deeper into his seat. Soldier grunted again and drank. “Makes ya almost forget we gonna die tomorrow.”
The fact he said this without instantly going into a panicky fit felt like insects in his mouth. Unfamiliar and alien. Like it didn't belong there. SHOULDN’T belong there.
“Honest ta god.” and Engineer didn't know why he chuckled at that, “I'm pissin' mahself with fear.”
Soldier looked at him, but not for long, because he went back to drinking. He was at his second beer at that time – Engineer just finished his fourth.
“Guess ah'm the only one though. The entire team is oddly calm. Calm like this is jus', what? A class trip?” he turned to the commando, grinning. “Tell me, what's your secret Soldier-boy?”
Soldier took a deep breath, almost as if Engineer revealing his deepest fears was offending him. “I do not devote myself with such filth like death.” he growled. It's what he had said before. The exact same thing. Nothing changed in his demeanor. Death was approaching fast. And he didn't care.
“Solly, ya gonna die, you know that?” Engineer became blunt all of the sudden.
“Yes.” Soldier said. Still, nothing. No reaction. No fear, no anger, no sadness – nothing.
“Ya gonna leave family behind and loose friends and loved ones...” Engineer propped further, hoping to get to the core of the man.
“Some will. Others won't. Those that have been blessed with my acquaintanceship will remember me as the abounding image of a true American.”
A bitter thought settled in Engineer's mind.
What if Soldier hadn't had any family? No parents, no siblings. No wife, or children or friends? What if there simply was nobody he could say goodbye to?
Engineer sneered. It angered him. It fucking angered him that there was nothing, not a single trace of fear this man showed. Nobody did. Nobody. Only he. He was stuck in a tornado of simmering panic, of denial, of despair. Fear. Sadness. And now, rage.
“Boy. You're dumber than a carpet-corner.”
Soldier spat the gulp he had just taken back into the bottle. He coughed, then, turned to Engineer so sharply, the chair nearly collapsed under his weight. Engineer didn't flinch. There’s anger behind those tinted, unreadable goggles.
“What did you--?” he hissed.
“You're dying, you dumbass!” Engineer growled, and smashed his bottle onto the floor, beer pouring onto his overall and the floor. “Everyone's dyin', and I'm the only person givin' two shiny shits about it! I am tearin' my very ass apart fer this! I’m not jus' givin' up! I'm not jus' sittin' here and thinkin’ 'Oh death, who cares about death anyway when I'm American'?”
Soldier's hand curled into a fist. Engineer knew Soldier would surely sock him any second now. But he didn't. Instead, he did what he was second best at.
He yelled.
“HOW DARE YOU INSULT THE SOUL OF A TRUE AMERICAN!? DO YOU KISS YOUR MOTHER WITH THAT FILTHY MOUTH?!”
No. I kissed you with that mouth.
“A true American will not turn their backs on their destiny. If this is what will await me, I will not fight it. I will let death feel what patriotism is! I will let that sonuvabitch break his teeth trying to gnash my spirit!”
“Well, I'm not acceptin' this! And I'm not gonna have you tell me to suck it up!”
“ YOU WILL NOT TALK TO YOUR SEARGANT IN THIS TONE!”
“SCREW YOU!” Engineer blurted.
Alcohol and sleep-deprivation was a terrible combination, He felt dizzy. So, so dizzy. His head was swimming, yelling alone had surely popped some veins around his caffeine and frightened brain. He didn't know that he had actually jumped off his seat until his knees gave in. They simply felt too soft for him to carry his weight.
He falls, but Soldier catches him. A strong arm curls around him, and drags him back into his chair.
Dang, he was drunk. Didn’t he knew beer on an empty stomach was a bad idea?
“I'm workin', day and night.” He slurs to no one in particular. “Can’t remember the last time I've slept. Or eaten. I can't – I can't jus' give up. I can't just let us down. Let mahself down...” It was the truth. He knows that vulnerability was poison for Soldier, and still, he couldn't help but let the words fall.
“I'm believing in your southern intellectual, Engie.” He heard him speak. He wasn't yelling, but his voice was feeling like a boom in his ears, nevertheless.
“But I'm not. I'm not...” Engineer shook his head. Slowly, he slumped back into his seat, a hand on his face, the other clinging desperately to Soldier's jacket. He fully expected to have it pushed off once he was feeling solid, non-spinning ground on his weary body again. But he didn't. Soldier let him. He sat, even though he had a good reason to just leave. Engineer felt the most pathetic he had ever felt.
He sucked in a deep breath. It felt alien to breathe. Was he dying? He surely felt like it. No, they still had time. Maybe, if he was lucky, death would come sooner, engulf him, and then let him go.
He felt Soldier's strong shoulder rolling as he lifted the bottle to his lips again. Those same strong arms that held him in the freezing cold. Prevented him from dying. A vain attempt, now that they were doomed anyway– but still, the memory lingered.
"Heh. I don't think I ever thanked ya for savin' me.” He drawled. Soldier's body stiffened. He had raised his hand again to drink, but it hovered a few inches away from his face now. He looked like he was thinking. His chapped lips were pursing ever so slightly, whenever he was thinking. For some reason, Engineer finds it cute.
“Spare your rewards, professor.” he muttered after a while. “Knowing that I was able to save a brother in arms is remunerating enough.”
Engineer grinned wider. “Well, if'n savin' me is enough for ya, I guess that's fair enough, but...”
But?
But what, Conagher?
Engie hadn’t had proper time to think of something that could tell the Soldier his gratitude. The man had risked his life to save him, after all. Sure, he was the one that got them in that situation to begin with – but he had been determined to bring them back home, alive.
How do you thank someone that saved your life?
Soldier shot him a wary gaze at Engineer’s silent pondering. He’s doing that lip-pursing again…
It’s the alcohol. Had to be. Sober Engie would’ve offered something of greater value. Eternal gratitude and friendship. A favor, whatever it was. If Soldier wanted material things, heck, ENgie would build it for him. A new rocketlauncher.
But drunk Engineer didn’t think straight. Didn’t think at all, as a matter of fact. And so, he does the most logical thing – he shows his intentions. He grows bold, takes the bottle from Soldiers hand.
The man huffed. “This is my beer! You have your own!” He snarled.
“Ya can have it back in due time, Soldier-boy.” The engineer slurred, as he placed the bottle next to his chair. “Trust me, ya gonna need a free hand fer now.”
“A free hand?!” Soldier retorted. “What are your intentions? Cleaning weapons? Playing poker? Are we going on a secret RED killing spree? Excellent idea, Engie, I am absolutely positive I have seen one of those filthy RED snakes somewhere in…What are you doing down there, Private?”
Engineer had slipped off his seat, settling down on top of his knees. He was glad that in his slushy mind he had still managed to keep his knee pads on. He may be a dying man, but he sure as hell won't die with carpet burns.
Without answering the man, he reached out. His hands closed around his thighs, feeling muscles, rock-solid and flinching ever so slightly beneath his palms. He began caressing them up and down, savoring the feel. He knew the commando was ninety percent muscles and ten percent brain, and that fact alone made Engineer’s stomach flip. Soldier had suddenly grown very quiet.
He didn't exactly know if that was a good, or a bad sign, but seeing as he had not has his teeth socked out by now, he supposed he was not overstepping boundaries. Engineer took his time, just caressing slowly, feeling, sometimes he squeezed into one of those muscles and find with soft delight that they either twitched back, or noticeably relaxed under his touches. It's just now that Engineer yet again realizes how strong this man was. A true killing machine, toughened by war, strengthened by willpower. Engineer wasn't weak, mind you. Not so weak that he couldn't keep up with the man. But he sure as hell was still impressed.
“I'm quite lucky t'day, ain't I?”
Soldier gave a small noise, an attempt to sound disdainful when he was too focused on Engineer’s hands on his body. “How so?” He responded eventually.
Engineer grinned, and leaned his cheek against the man’s knee. “Ya ain't tellin' me ta take mah hands off.” he explained. He brushed the inside of the man’s leg , along one of the hems of his slacks. He could feel the man stiffen in his seat. “I'm guessin' ya like this then?”
“It's not my first time I'm getting my shoes cleaned!” Soldier responded.
Engineer actually stopped moving his hand for just a moment. Either Soldier was being sarcastic – or oblivious.
He laughed. It was just so ridiculous. He resumed his ministrations, over the curve of his chiseled inner thighs, all the way up until he could feel sharp hipbones on his hands. He stopped, holding onto the man’s hips, as he inched closer.
“What are you -- ?” Soldier muttered.
"Relax Sal. Jus' Relax."
"I am NOT taking any orders regarding slacking off from you!"
"Jus' part yer legs and lemme get ta work, dummy."
"Part my legs? PART MY LEGS? WHAT DO YOU THINK I AM, A FLIMSY WHORE?! YOU CANNOT – Oh."
Soldier stopped, the moment Engineer had squeezed himself so close, his face was just inches away from the fly of his slacks.
Engineer's hands palmed the outline of Soldiers thigh and hips, and busying themselves with undoing the man’s belt. He had expected another round of yelling from the Soldier, for boldly undressing him. But the moment Engineer looked up, he could see the man simply staring at the Texans busy hands.
He shouldn't waste another second. belt opened, the Engineer went straight for the Soldier’s slacks, opening them with a flick of his thumb. They parted, revealing a clean white set of military issued underwear. Of course, Engineer thought, and couldn't help but grin. Soldier was growing stiff as a board in his seat, not moving, hands holding onto the armrests.
Engie pulled down the flaps of the man’s pants, far enough to reveal a tentative, yet noticeable tightness behind the white cotton. Seems like his efforts were good for something after all. He lazily moved a hand over the underwear, and was greeted with Soldiers hips bucking back, all by their own accord. Soldier stifled a sound, which was enough for the texan to continue. He cupped the prominent outline of the man’s erection, teasing along his waistband.
“Hm-hm.” he snickered. “This feels promisin'.”
“Promising of what?” Soldier bit back.
“Oh, nuthin'.” Engineer muttered. A finger hooked around the fabric and pulled.
Soldier was the true image of a sturdy military man. Now that Engieer actually had a good view on him, he could confidently say he was build sturdy everywhere. He was quite impressive. Not too long, but broad and thick, and all that in a state of half-erection. The hair growing was trimmed and cut short, besides a small line of dark blonde hair running up to the man’s bellybutton. Engineer felt saliva pool in his mouth.
He reached out and unceremoniously touched the outline of the man's shaft. “Well, well, wouldcha lookit that.” Engie drawled. “Ya sure got some gun there, don'cha?”
Soldier grunted in an attempt to keep his hips still, yet he failed miserably, as Engineer began palming him, stroking softly around the soft, hot skin, from the flushed tip to the base. He watched as the Texan leaned in, lips ghosting a soft kiss along the sensitive tip.
“Hng.” Soldier growled, the armrest creaking beneath his iron grip. "W-What is this-?"
“Relax, hot-stuff.” Engineer patted the man's thigh. This time Soldier gave no word of disobedience, and that was just fine. The tinkerer sat up, and pushed his goggles down and around his neck. Soldier stared. He had seen the man without them before. But it still must’ve been a rather unfamiliar, dare he say, intimate sight for the military man.
Engie barely focused on Soldier's fixated staring. He was drunk, horny, his brain goo and mush, too much to feel ashamed about letting his professionalism drop, and too concentrated on the Soldier's warm member in his hand. He extended his tongue, licking the tiny drop of salty precome. He began working the man between his lips, slowly sliding inches and inches into his mouth, his fingers steadily stroking along the base. Soldie’s breath became a little funnier. He had his jaw clenched, lips barely parted to show off those canines that ground harder the more his length vanished into the Engineer's warm mouth.
He worked him gradually, just the tip, then more, sucking back up, and bobbing his head back down. Soon, there was a rhythm. Engineer worshiped the heavy dick inside his mouth and hands, tongue swirling, kissing whenever he released him, only to be greeted with a frustrated growl. He always promised to get back, and so he did.
Soldier inched his knees apart further. One of those strong hands released the armrest and reached out, resting on top of the Engineer's sandy blonde hair, holding his head as he steered it into the pace he desired. Deep throaty grunts, soft noises of pleasure, sometimes a small curse word were all the things that tumbled from the military man's lips, and it just encouraged the Engineer to go harder, faster.
He felt his vision swim a little. He couldn't care. Soldier never left his gaze off of the man's face. Engie was a handsome man. But tonight, despite his best efforts, he looked almost nothing like his usual self. Deep, dark circles had formed beneath the Texans eyes, combined with the pale shade his skin had absorbed, his eyes appeared greener than ever. Stressed lines built on top of his with sweat glistening forehead. He looked old and tired, even now, even as a streak of saliva ran down the side of his mouth and a little blush build on the top of his nose.
Soldier's finger curled around the man's skull. He groaned deeply and pushed the soles of his boots firmly into the floor His hips had no halt anymore, he thrust eagerly into the Texan's throat. Engineer gave a strangled noise, tried pulling away, with the hand holding him in place blocking his attempt. A few tears shot to his eyes, but it was bearable, it was somehow manageable. He felt the man’s member throbbing heavily in his mouth, heard the commando's heavier breathing, deeper and louder sounds, felt neatly trimmed pubes tickle the tip of his nose and smelled the intoxicating scent of musk, sweat and Soldier's natural, earthy odor.
His fingers dug hard into the Soldier's thighs, and that set the Soldier into an end spurt. He thrust deep, fast, loud, angry growls echoing in the workshop and drowning out the soft buzzing in the room, but certainly not that terribly pesky buzz in the Engineer's head.
His eyes were growing heavy. His vision was swimming and spinning whenever he tried to keep them open. He couldn't focus on the intense pressure in his throat, or the slowly approaching aftermath of his gag reflex being so ruthlessly assaulted, nor on the harsh noises above him. He felt dizzy.
Soldier gave a last erratic thrust, one that nearly threw him out of his very seat, hands clenching hard around the plastic chair and Engie's skull, burying himself to the very hilt, and came to a still stand, a throaty roar escaping his breathless lungs. Engineer gulped down whatever the Soldier gave and steadied himself on the man's trembling legs.
Then, everything stopped. The vice grip around his skull went slack, Soldier’s labored breathing slowed gradually, even the hardness planted firmly in his mouth seemed to soften. He released Soldier’s member, and fought against a sudden fresh wave of light-headedness. His head slumped and leaned against the military man’s thigh, just for a moment, just to catch his breath, relax his eyes...
Soldier opened his eyes as he came by. He gulped a few times, throat dry and coarse. His body tingled pleasantly. It wasn’t unlike that other time, at that shabby base, when Engie had slipped under his covers, and yet…
“Engie?”
The Texan was fast asleep. Pure exhaustion held the man in this uncomfortable position, on his knees, and his head leaned against the military man’s thigh. This had been the final straw for the man's endurance. Three sleepless nights, undernourished, overworked – and a blowjob had shot his lights out ultimately. Soldier stared down at him for a while. He should yell at him for being such a wuss and falling asleep on the spot like a pile of pathetic whatever he would come up with.
But he didn't. Instead, he buttoned himself up again, and bend down. He carried the sleeping man bridal style through the workshop. Towards his bed.
Engie was deep in La-La-Land when Soldier left his workshop.
Chapter 8: Sacrificing
Chapter Text
Engineer was absolutely livid, to say the least.
Struggling his way from underneath a flap of bread, he found his overalls soaked with goo, even down into his shoes.
“Oh, zhis was so exciting! I knew it had potential! Well, maybe a bit too much potential, heh.” Medic gave the deceased breadmonster a pat on the head.
If Engineer could, he would strangle the physician right here and now.
This morning, when Medic picked him up from his workshop, he found the Engineer collapsed on his bed, a blanket thrown over his lower body. Soldiers work, he realized, seeing his bottle still standing there at the chair where they…
Ugh, his head was throbbing. And ugh, he felt absolutely embarrassed about his actions. Dying was already hard on him – dying with his shame and pride destroyed, by himself no less? That made it all just worse.
“Good morning, Dell!” Medic chirped down Engie’s ear canal. “Today is zhe day! Ve better get to our research right avay, ja?”
How this man managed to stay as calm as chipper as he did, even when faced with inevitable doom, was beyond Engie’s comprehension.
“Ugh, my head,” Engie complained.
“Your head vill be zhe least of your worries. Come on zhen! It is time to practice medicine!”
He doesn’t find a way to protest or explain Medic that he had pretty much lost all hope at this point. He wasn’t even scared anymore. Just tired. On top of spending the last three days wide awake, his sleep now had been interrupted by nightmares so grizzly he barely felt rested at all.
Dreams of dying. Dreams of green bulbous puss-filled pockets to pop up on his face and arms and legs and consume him until he, himself, was barely but a pus-filled pocket.
“Meet me at zhe laboratory!” Medic says and leaves Engie to get himself dressed.
The tinkerer groans and shuffles into his overalls, not caring that he probably smelled like a puddle of Scrumpy in a dark alleyway. He definitely felt like one.
Before leaving, his eyes catches the blueprint again. The cleaver was still there, glistening silvery in the light.
He could manage to build it, at least the rough outline. Too bad he found this thing right at the end of the line, when his days were numbered. Doesn’t matter, he thinks. If we don’t make any progress when night comes, I will do it.
And night comes. And Engie and Medic find something that is absolutely beyond their comprehension.
“EUREKA!” Medic cheered. “How could ve have been so blind! The answer lies right there, before our eyes.”
He picks up the jar with eyeballs and places it discreetly to the side.
“I’m not followin’?” Engie rubbed at his eyes, the stubble at his chin. His head was spinning with mathematical equations and variations and he absolutely didn’t share Medics (perhaps overly) enthusiastic demeanor.
“Don’t you see it, Dell? It’s not us. It has never been us!” And Medic takes the loaf of bread, and teleports it, once more.
Engie blinks. Blinks again. Blinks a third time – and then it clicks.
Followed by Medics panicked yelp and teeth, sinking into his shoulder.
They find Soldier, Spy and Demo in the observation room, glued to the TV sets. Scout was busy tweaking the last bits of his prepared date room, with dimmed lighting, champagne, he even made dinner, and no, it was not fried chicken.
The door busts open, and it’s Miss Pauling, just like Scout and Spy ´had predicted. The alarm was still blaring over their heads.
“There she is!” Soldier gave Demo an excited nudge.”
“Oh hello, Miss Pauling. What an unexpected surprise.”
“The briefcase. Don’t worry. We can fix this,” Miss Pauling was out of breath, shotgun in hand. “We’ll get it back, and the Administrator never has to know.”
“You look, you…look… err?”
Scout frowned deeply.
“Drunk.” Demo yells at the TV screen.
“Soft!” Soldier ads. “No, uh. Round. Soft.”
“Blurry!”
Spy holds the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Ravishing.”
Spy lifts his eyes back to the TV set. Well, looks like the kid wasn’t that much of a lost cause.
That’s when Engie bursts into the room. “Guys, fellas!” he wheezes. “It’s just the bread that gets tumors!”
Everyone turns their head, blinking at the mechanic.
“Actually? It’s not even tumors. It seems to be some form of self-aware beauty mark zhat only metastasis in an environment of pure wheat!” Medic added, holding a large jar in his hand as proof. Inside, a loaf of bread was angrily snapping its teeth at the glass barrier. He gives the jar a shake and the little bread inside growls viciously. “Ohh, it hates me so much,” Medic giggled.
“So, we’re not dying, then?” Demo looks at them owlishly.
“Oh, you vill most definitely die,” Medic laughs. “Just not today. And not of tumors.”
Spy narrows his eyes. “Pardon me, but I seem to remember zat my RED counterpart was covered from head to toe in zese…self-aware beauty marks.”
“Oh, zat is easy to explain. Seems to me zat the RED Spy has had bread for breakfast.”
“And ze Pyro? Zere was a mark on ze back of its head.”
“Oh, zhat? Yes, zhat is an actual tumor.” Medic wave his hand dismissively. ”But ozher zhan zhat? Ve are invincible!!”
Spy stood, very slowly. “It seems congratulations are in ordeur! You ‘ave done us a grand service, once more.”
“Ah, shucks. It’s nuthin’.” Engie heaved in a relieved sigh. Throwing an arm around Medic, the other around Soldier’s shoulder, he allowed himself a moment of joy, after three days of relentless working and worrying.
“So, we’re fine. As long as nobody’s teleportin’ any bread.”
“Question.”
“What’s yer question, Soldier?”
“I teleported bread.”
Oh.
Uh oh.
“What?”
“You told me to.”
Engie stared at the military man owlishly, his dazed mind frantically trying to process what the other just said. He….he did, didn’t he? I saw him. I sat by his side and watched him.
I encouraged him.
“Soldier,” he breathes. “How much?”
“I’ve done nothing but teleporting bread for three days.”
SMASH!
The jar was dropped to the ground, and Medic snatched the front of Soldier’s coat. Soldier looked positively baffled as he found himself lifted up and dangling above the ground.
“VHERE?!” Medic barked, shaking him. “Vhere have you been sending it?!”
In lieu of an answer, the mercenaries felt the ground beneath them shaking.
It all happened very quickly. The poor base could not withstand the sheer weight of this colossal Yeast-beast and a hole opened up in the common room. Scout, Pauling and Breadmonster tumbled into the undercroft.
If the small bread-monster contained in that jar had been vicious, this one was outright savage. Snapping at the mercs, flinging its long yeasty tendrils about, flinging Demo and Sniper off their feet and smashing them into walls and rocks. Engie’s sentry was torn apart with one swift whip.
Neither bullets nor fire seemed to slow the monster down, aside from making it only angrier.
“I teleported breaaad!” Soldier laughed manically as he was flung about like an out-of-control toddler tossed its dolls about.
“Seek coveurs!” Spy called over the pandemonium of bullets flying and the base being torn to bits by the roaring beast.
Engie was grabbed by his collar and quickly dragged behind a sturdy rock. Then, a bright light flooded the undercroft, an ear-piercing boom – and then darkness.
When his eyesight returned, he found himself half-way buried beneath a flap of wholewheat-bread.
He wrestled his way out from beneath, soaked in greenish yeasty goo. His helmet was lopsided, so were his goggles. His hands were shaking so badly he had to rub them on his overalls to make the tingling stop.
Surveying the aftermath, he was astounded to find its side burned to a toasty crisp. An explosion, he realized.
Glancing up, he saw the breadmonster-shaped hole in the base, goo dripping down in a green, even trickle.
“I must learn more,” Medic mumbled to no one in particular as he knelt down, took a few samples of the sludge that came pouring out of the defeated monster, and discreetly vanished back into his laboratory.
“Did you see that? Did you see that, Engie? I teleported bread” That was Soldier’s voice, for certain. Engie turned his head, slowly, dazed and he had to blink away the dizziness overtaking his body after this bout of adrenaline simmered down slowly.
“Soldier,” he muttered. “Did you continue teleportin’ when it became sentient?”
“I did!” Soldier said, giddy like a little kid. “See, at first it was a small bread-cub, had barely any teeth. It still bit off a few of my fingers. See?” Soldier held up his hand, missing his thumb and ring finger.
“So I continued until it became bigger, until it grew to this size.”
“You…willingly let it grow to this size.”
“Yes.”
Soldier suddenly doubled over as something solid collided with his stomach. He made a surprised ‘oomph’ sound, finding the handle of a mop being pushed into his body.
“Then you will clean this here mess up. Now.” Engie said. Calmly, very calmly…
“Yessir!” Soldier saluted, grabbed the mop – and paused. “Wait a minute – you DARE giving me orders, maggot? I GIVE THE ORDERS! You will not make me into a common latrine-cleaning-“
“DAMN RIGHT I AM GIVIN YER ORDERS, YER DOGGONE BIRD-BRAINED YANKEE!” Engineer shouted, and the hall became eerily quiet.
“Do ya even realize what the HELL yer’ve done?!”
“I teleported bread.” Soldier says like that was so obvious and Engie just wanted to smack the nonsense out of Soldier’s noggin. ”You told me to.”
“I didn’t go and tell yer to create a darn man-eatin’ monster, did I?!”
Soldier opens, then closes his mouth.
“Ya put everyone here in danger, yer put Miss Pauling in danger!”
“I WAS TRYING TO-“
“I don’t give a DAMN what yer been tryin’ to do!!”
Suddenly his knees gave in and the world shifted. “Dell!” He heard someone yelling. Then hands around his arm, trying to keep him upright. His body was giving up on him, he could feel it. He takes in a deep breath to stabilize himself. When the dizziness spell subsided, he hopes, in vain, that if he opens his eyes again, all this chaos was just a dream and he wouldn’t have to spend the next few days explaining and apologizing to the Adminiustratorr for the absolute mess Soldier had created, with the help of HIS teleporter.
But when he opens them again, Soldier was still standing there, hands tightening around the broom.
“Get outta mah sight,” he snarls. “Else I’mma do somethin’ unwise.”
Soldier scowls, salutes stiffly, then turns and leaves.
Engie turns the other direction.
“Yes, Ma’am. I promise yer, this ain’t gonna happen again.” He rubs his eyebrows. He was in the middle of the biggest dressing-down, and he barely had the energy to even defend his case. It would make no difference, anyway. It happened, and whether he liked it or not, he took part in this.
Could he have predicted this outcome? Of course not. No one could have. But the Administrator did not want to hear about unpredicted outcomes or what could have been done, or what might’ve been done, she wanted to hear about how this could happen, who was responsible for it, and who would account for it.
His head was swimming, and droning and the pain radiated from his forehead down to his spine.
“Conagher?” the voice hissed. “Did you hear what I just said?”
Nope.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Then I hope for your own good this situation will be taken care of, by you, before word gets out to the Mann twins. The chaos you and that imbecile have caused could destabilize this entire company! It is bad enough we just have had a similar case in the RED base, and I was HOPING dearly this would not transpire on your end as well. But I believe I have put my trust into the wrong personnel -”
Hold up. Did she just say RED had a similar accident?
His eyes were stinging from the harsh light of his workshop. He glances at his desk.
“Ma’am, may I ask yer a question?”
There was a pause, then a stressed sigh.
“This had better be good,” she warned him.
“The RED Engineer. Did he mention somethin’ to yer about…a new modification?”
There was a pause on the other side of the receiver. Only broken by a sudden cackle. Engie frowns, blinking against the stinging in his eyes and the urge to close them and just give in to sleep –
“Modification,” she repeats, slowly. He heard the flick of a lighter. “is a comely name for it. I was going to approach this topic with a bit more flair, but…”
What was she talking about?
“Tell me, Conagher. If one of your associates just happens to destroy half the base, making it open and unprotected from outside forces, putting important documents and items in hazard of being stolen – what options do you think you have?”
His head was too busy hammering like a jackhammer against the inside of his skull for him to make a coherent, educated guess.
“I’m disappointed, Conagher. RED had it figured out by that point.”
“Ma’am where is this going?” he was not going to be compared to his rival, not right now.
“Compensation, Conagher, comes in many forms – and no matter how much money we have provided to your name, it would not be enough to cover the costs of re-construction and re-enforcing stability to your security.” The Administrator said.
'Compensation comes in many forms.' What the hell was that even supposed to mean?
“RED was in a similar situation to you. Hence, I and he had struck a deal that would be beneficial for both sides. I assume you have the schematics before you, now, don’t you?”
Engie flinched, his eyes wandering to the blueprint on the table.
“Surprised? Had you expected Saxton Hale just happened to place such an important document so conveniently open and unprotected on his desk, of all things?”
She had planned this, he realized.
“Jus’ tell me what you want.” He growls.
She made no noise for a moment, yet Engie could tell she was smirking behind that phone line.
“There are only few willing to run a trial phase with such… precarious weaponry. But it was either this way, or putting oneself into immeasurable debt for the rest of their life. And believe me - MANN CO. has the methods to make it a long, long, very long life.”
He thinks of the Mann twins and shudders at the idea.
“I understand.”
His throat felt dry.
The cleaver glistened silvery in the pale light of the workshop. And to think, I nearly did it without having to be threatened.
“Naturally. How much time do you think you will need?”
The twist in his stomach knotted firmly when he realizes that he doesn’t want to have to do this. Morbid curiosity ran quite naturally in his family’s veins, being men of science and pushing the limits, sometimes even the limits of the human body – but this was perhaps a tad too loony even for him.
“Two months.” He says without thinking, really. He could hear her heave another stressed, longer sigh.
“I’ll give you one month. Do not disappoint me, Conagher.”
Click.
Mopping up sludge and slime with a broom was hard work. But he was a good Soldier. He followed his orders to the T. Even if this was degrading work saved for the lowest of the lowest Privates out there. Green-beaks. Pants-pissers. Those that hadn’t even grown their first hair on their body.
But he was a good Soldier.
And he mopped up the residue that stuck to the crumbled floor, the walls, the ceiling. Once he realized he could eat great amounts of it, his process sped up even faster. By the dawn of the following day, he had almost finished his work and the common room was spick and span once more – well aside from that large hole in the floor. He couldn’t clean THAT up with a mop.
He just didn’t understand the general hostility towards him, especially coming from Heavy, whose beloved fridge plus Sandviches had been destroyed by the Breadmonster’s attack.
Did this rotten Commie not know he teleported bread?!
A good Soldier didn’t take anything for granted: gratitude, praise, or help. A good Soldier carried his own weight if necessary.
He would not expect anything from his teammates, even though he KNEW he had done the unthinkable, the unmanageable, the unspeakable – he teleported bread!
No Soldier like him had done such a deed before!
The poker-table was gone. So was the couch and the TV set. Most of the common room was destroyed by that Breadmonster-shaped hole in the floor that everyone had to maneuver around to get from the domiciles to the kitchen. Some really weren’t happy about this. The only room that somewhat brought a hint of normalcy and relaxation into this base was now in shambles.
“Where we goona play poker noow?” Demo asked. “We cannae play poker on any regular table. It has tae be the poker-table.”
“Fridge ees gone,” Heavy had growled at Soldier when next morning came and the large Russian realized his favorite furniture plus food had been wrecked into pieces. The artillery man had cracked his knuckles and curled them into fists – but only Scout’s yelp and collapse upon slipping on some yeasty slime had shaken Heavy out of his anger. He’d guffawed, and Scout had cast a withering glance at both of them. “Great! Now I gotta get this cleaned again! You, tinhead! You’ll take over my laundry shift!”
“Sir Yessir!” Soldier saluted, and then added. “I have heard your date with Miss Pauling was a roaring success?”
“Oh yeah, of course, totally. TOTALLY. It would’ve been friggin’ grant. It would’ve been absolutely terrific – if someone hadn’t thrown this base into absolute chaos!”
He wondered who Scout was referring to. Couldn’t be me, Soldier knew.
A good Soldier ate what was given. He began eating at mealtime sharp, and finished his plate, without complains. And complains could be heard from all sides.
“Ugh, the hell is this crap?”
“It’s all we got. The attack destroyed half of our storeroom.”
“This isn’t friggin’ happening,” Scout whined, glancing down at his bowl of plain, watery oatmeal.
“Zhis is it?” Medic glanced under his bowl, like something other than bowl would hide there. “Vhere is zhe jam? Zhe fruits? Zhe honey?”
“All gone,” Demo shrugged. “It’s goon’be oatmeal for a while.”
“Are you kiddin’ me?!”
Another set of angry glances were cast his way. But Soldier ate, dutifully, and not even uttering a remark. A good Soldier ate what was given, nothing more and nothing less, because only god knew when the next warm and nutritious meal would be issued.
But something did bother him.
It was 1800 sharp, and someone was missing. Still missing, actually. After their short, but explosive yelling match, Engineer had not poked his head out of his little toy factory since. And now he was missing breakfast time. The most important meal of the day, no less!
“This is unacceptable.” He growls to no one in particular, slamming his fist down on the table and making Snipers mug of coffee jump and shudder. “I will not have a part of MY platoon missing out on his chow.”
Sniper gave little but a grunt as an answer.
“My orders were to stay out of his sight, which I did. So, since THESE American peepers,” and he emphasizes it with another slam of his fist on the table, Sniper’s cup shuddering again. “Are prohibited from looking at our grease monkey, can YOU tell me where this maggot is?”
“Nah,” Sniper shrugs.
“What about YOU, Smokes?”
“Mhhph-mh.” Pyro shakes their head.
“Ladies, listen up! We are one man short! Has anyone seen the hardhat?”
No reply. Either they ignored him, or, the more logical explanation (at least in Soldier’s mind) they didn’t hear him.
“HAS ANYONE SEEN THE HARDHAT?” Soldier slams his hands down on the table to get the attention of everyone in the room, and at last, Sniper’s mug lost the fight, toppling over and spilling hot black coffee over the table and the floor.
“Jesus Christ, shut the hell up!!” was the one, and the only, answer he would get out of them today. Sniper cursed and grumbled as coffee soaked his pants and socks.
Useless sissies, all of them! They wouldn’t be able to fight their way out of a wet paper bag! Once again it was up to Soldier to find the missing team member.
He strolls down the corridor towards the workshop. While walking, Soldier reflected sourly upon their last interaction. He really didn’t like it when Engie shouted at him. Questioning his authority aside – he really did not mean to anger the Engineer. Did he not understand that Soldier teleported bread? In Soldier’s mind, Engie should be praising him for his grand scientific breakthrough! Teleporting bread until it grew fangs, then tentacles, then feeding on other bread, then growing exponentially – all that HAD to be of scientific value, right?
I was trying to help you. That’s what he wanted to tell him, before being cut off. He came to a halt before the Engineer’s workshop and feels himself growing tense, and slightly frustrated as well.
Why is it that whenever Soldier wanted to help him it was met with anger from the tinkerer? Why did he yell at him, but not at Pyro? Why did he and Medic get to teleport bread all day, and call it ‘Scientific research’, but when he did it, he was ‘putting everyone in danger’?
Shovels voice rings in his head, even though he is sure he had stored that son’uva’bitch in his room. Shovel did that sometimes. Speak negatively to him even when he wasn’t near.
He hates you. He doesn’t want you around.
“I am American, and so is he. We are biologically inclined to be drawn to one another’s presence!” he reasons, and thus, he knocks.
No answer. That’s fine. A Soldier can wait. A Soldier can wait for hours in the freezing cold and scorching heat, if necessary.
Besides, Engie was, despite their training periods together, still slow. He’d have to train that slowness OUT of him, yet!
He waits exactly ten seconds. Then, he knocks again. Waiting another ten seconds.
When nothing came, he raises his voice.
“Engineer, open this door immediately.”
No reaction. Soldier harrumph’ed indignantly.
“That is an order, Engie! You are missing out on breakfast.”
Still nothing. When he lifts his hand anew, he suddenly finds the door opening up on its own under his hand. Strange. Usually he locked it up. Or, well, at the very least closes it.
“Engineer, I respect your privacy by knocking - but I am asserting my authority as your SUPERIOR by coming in anyway.”
Soldier takes a step inside, and finds the inside eerily silent – except for the constant droning and buzzing from the machinery down here. Prototypes the Engineer began, then never found the time to finish.
The air was stale, like awalys, with the slightest hint of burned plastic and rusty iron.
A lot of iron today, actually. Warm iron. He wondered where he had smelled that one before…
The steps down into the workshop were made of thin wood, and it creaked under his weight.
Why did that smell bother him so much? It’s like something that didn’t quite belong here. Not here. Not here, in his base, and not down here, in Engie’s workshop, and –
And there he is. The Engineer. And the smell is so thick in Soldier’s nose he can almost taste it.
There’s dark red on the floor. On the desk. On the walls, even. Soaking the man’s usually sky-blue shirt and overalls, and Soldier doesn’t quite understand for a moment, and when he looks at him, he sees two green pools glancing at him through a haze of blood loss and –
He rushes to him. Props the man up.
“S-Sal?” Engie stammers.
“Don’t move.” Soldier snarls. He takes his shirt, rips it up into long strips, wraps them around the crook of Engie’s arm and pulls it taut. He’s a good Soldier. He knows how to stop a bleeding. He knows exactly what to do when a comrade lost a limb. A foot. A hand, in this case. Didn’t matter. He knew what to do.
There’s blood on his hands when he draws away.
Engineer whimpers and begins shuddering. When Soldier looks up at him, he realizes the Texan was as pale as the walls around them.
“Son, if you empty your stomach on my my freshly scrubbed boots right now-“
Engie heaves, doubles over, and throws up. All over Soldier’s sboots. His own, too, granted. But no matter what threat would tumble out of Soldier’s mouth at that moment, it was forgotten, as Soldier wraps his arm securely around him and lifts him up.
“Medic!” he yells, but Engie grabs his collar, his remaining hand. “No!” he says, hoarsely.
“You are bleeding out, civilian!” Soldier barks. “You WILL head to the Medic at once, and you WILL-!“
“JUS’ LISTEN TA ME! Jus’ listen. Fer once, jus’ goddarn listen...” Engie’s eye flutter. He had used his last bit of strength to shout at him, and he realizes he was losing his fight against the overwhelming dizziness. Soldier stops in his tracks. Looks at him. Engie’s sight was darkening rapidly, but even so, he could see that Soldier absolutely did not agree with the Texan’s plea – but complied.
“Sal.” Engie says, before the world is consumed by blackness.
Chapter 9: Healing
Chapter Text
As much as Engineer disliked staying in one place without moving much, he began to accustom to his new surroundings. He woke up every day in Soldier's sparsely lighted room, inside a warm, comfortable bed that smelled of him.
Of war strong cigars, leather and just him.
He would bury his face into the pillows and just listened to the rest of the team outside. Soldier's room was right next to the kitchen, and every morning he enjoyed the soft ambiance of Sniper having a loud argument with Scout over who will get the last bits of strawberry jam, or Heavy making coffee and humming a gruff tune to some classical Russian nursery rhymes.
Sometimes he heard Medic's bright laughter after Demo dropped a very inappropriate joke, and sometimes he even heard the commando himself, complaining over the lack of bread. What American household was short on bread, he argued.
“Ya teleported all of that away, ya dummy...” Engineer muttered to himself and rubbed over his eyes.
He missed those mornings with the team, sitting in the mess hall, making lighthearted conversation and enjoying a good breakfast. He missed tinkering in his workshop, and helping Medic cleaning up his laboratory.
At some point Soldier suggested him to take a shower. “You smell worse than a private's underwear after his first near-death experience.”
Engineer laughed, for the first time in days, but declined. He couldn't trust his legs to carry and hold him long enough to make it to the bathroom. There was no negotiating with Soldier, though, and thus he found himself being propped up from the bed, his arm slung around the other man's shoulder, and Soldier's arm around his body.
Walking felt absolutely terrible. Every step was heavy and painful; it felt like walking through quicksand, not proceeding any further for the amount of effort it took. He was shaking badly, and everything tingled down below his bellybutton. Like a baby doe taking its first step, they stumbled to the showers. Engineer was lowered onto the bench in the locker room.
“Undress.” Soldier ordered.
Engineer held up his bandaged arm. “It's gonna get wet.”
“Hold still.” Soldier approached, and began unwrapping the man's arm, until the last bits of bandage was taken off. Engineer turned his head away, he didn't dare looking. Surely it had to look absolutely horrendous. It felt horrendous at least.
It didn't hurt per se, it actually just felt like his hand was stung by a wasp, or had stayed in water for too long. He was constantly tricked by his own mind, plagued by tingles and itches on a limb that was gone.
Soldier eased him out of his clothes and walked him to one of the shower stalls, opening up the water. It cascaded down his shoulders, sending a tremble down the mechanics body. Moments later, the warm water set into his skin and into his aching insides and Engineer was engulfed in warm, soothing bliss.
There was truly no better feeling than a nice, warm shower that got rid of the sweat and dirt clinging to his skin and the pains and stresses inside his muscles and bones – Didn't even come to his mind to feel a bit ashamed to be out of his clothes in front of the other man. Or that Soldier was positively drenched at this point, still being in his entire uniform, and that he had begun leaning against him.
He had his head rested against the man's shoulder and his side pressed into the commando's chest. He blamed the awkward angle he was being held up straight, but even if he could step away, he found himself too drowsy to do so. And Soldier's body was so soft and warm...
He let himself be showered and groggily accepted the bar of soap, running it over his sandy hair and body, but most of that part was helped along with Soldier.
“Lemme soap up mahself.” Engie offered.
“You think after your lousy hygiene performances I would just stand here and watch? I'll show you how a real soldier scrubs down.” Soldier snarled and rubbed the soap bar into the Texan’s spine.
Something about the fact that it was just the two of them here felt a little odd and out of place.
It reminded him of the last time they were alone in this shower. That time Soldier had pressed him to the wall and assaulted his lips. He never got an answer out of the stoic military man as to why he did it.
For the longest time Engineer believed it was the fact that both of them were Americans. Which may be true, to some parts. He was also the only American that could keep up with his age, and level of experience, seeing as Scout was at least two decades younger than him, and boy did he know how little Scout and Soldier got along.
He and Soldier grew up in different times and generations, while Engineer and Soldier had experienced the world in a different, more complicated shape.
Maybe, for once, it wouldn't be any harm to just not bother analyzing into it. He must have slipped a little off of Soldier's shoulder, because a sudden strong arm caught his torso.
“Careful.” he rasped, and it brushed against Engineer's ear. His stomach made a strange flop like a stranded fish and another shiver ran down his body. Was he going to be sick again?
Before he knew it, he was rinsed down, and Soldier turned off the water. He maneuvered them back to the dressing room, where every bit of warmth was replaced with stinging coldness. Engineer was trembling against the military man, until he was wrapped up in a towel. Soldier didn't bother to dry up, instead helped Engineer back to his room. This man was really not fazed by the cold, was he?
Back inside, he eased the Engineer back into his own bed, then moved to his locker and fish out a clean set of clothes.
“Sal?” he asked softly. The Soldier grunted in response, his back turned to the tinkerer.
“May I ask where you've been sleepin' all the time ah've been occupying yer bed...?”
Soldier paused for a moment. “I am in no need of beds like the common sissified maggots in this base.” he answered.
“Don't tell me you've been sleepin' in that tiny chair over there.” Engineer nodded towards the stool close to his bed. Soldier paused once more, then began muttering a few excuses.
“Soldier, I wouldn't mind sleepin' in mah own bed from now on, yknow? Ah'm not all too eager knowin' I've been takin' yer space away all this time.”
“Negatory!” Soldier blurted. “You are not taking space away, private. I cannot leave you out of sight until your fever has reduced. The Kraut could be lurking behind every corner just waiting to pounce you and drag you into his lab.”
Engineer managed a tiny chuckle, before his body betrayed him once more, and he fell into a feverish, but dreamless slumber.
A glance into the life of one Soldier was unique to say the least. Most of the day, Soldier spend cleaning. His equipment, his clothes, himself. He spoke few words and continued using the flimsy folding chair as his 'sleeping quarters'. "I oughta return to my workshop, anyway," Engie tried reasoning with the man. "I'm jus' taking up yer spacen n' time."
"Nonsense!" Soldier said. "You are injured and no Soldier leaves an injured comrade behind."
So, he stayed.
Engineer was, of course, excused from any battle, but since the battles had calmed down for now, he didn't feel any shame about slacking off in a warm and cozy bed and fight his mind out of the fever hazes. He wondered if RED Engineer had been in a somewhat similar position than he was right now.
After lots of bargaining, Soldier allowed visitors to come into his room and say hello. Pyro was the first who entered, instantly pulling his sick friend into a bear hug and breathing huffed gasmask-kisses against Engineer's cheek.
“I know, I know, I ain't nothin' but trouble, ain't I, Pyro...?”
Pyro made an upset huffing noise, but whatever anger they felt was blown off with how relieved the firebug was that his best friend was alive.
Next came Sniper and Demo, with Scout in tow. “We heard yer feelin' loike shite.” Sniper said.
Demo belched. “S-So we made ye sum banana bread.”
“Aw, ain't that awfully nice of ya. Say uh, what's this here?” Engineer pointed at a lump of something awfully disgusting looking – black and greasy and gritty.
“It's Vegemite.” Sniper explained. “Tis' a breadspread made of yeast.”
“Yo, don't try that stuff hardhat, it tastes like crap, like seriously, literal crap!” Scout called from the doorframe. Sniper's eyes creased into two tiny, menacing slits.
Soldier closed the door after Sniper and Demo left, with Sniper holding Scout in a choke hold, muttering something about 'making him eat a whole jar of it' before the door flung close. Soldier eyed the plate of banana bread warily.
“Requesting to investigate the substance the hobbit specified as 'Vegemite'.”
“By all means, do that...” Engineer handed the plate over to the Soldier. “Think I've had enough of bread for a while.”
Not half an hour later Medic knocked. He and Heavy, although he looked not as golly as his partner did, greeted them and asked if they could speak to him. Soldier was already beginning to growl at the Medic for daring to come back after he told him to scram, but Engineer interrupted him.
“It's okay, Sal. Let 'em in.”
Grudgingly, Soldier stepped aside and let them both enter the room.
“Oh dear,” Medic looked worried. “Engie, may I...ah...”
“No you may not.” Came Soldier's response from the foot of the bed. “I know your tricks, Fritz! You'll drag him back into your filthy laboratory when I'm not looking and sew that hand back onto his arm, won't you?”
“Th-That is – how dare you accuse me of such a thing? I did zhis once, and I apologized.” Medic crossed his arms. “I trust Enginer to have a reason not to see me, alzhough it hurts to know zhat my friend doesn't trust me.” He threw them both a sour glance.
“I'm sorry doc, I jus' – I knew how ya gonna react if'n ya knew.”
“I am not mad,” the physician said. “I am just disappointed. Dell, tell me vhy you did it.”
Engineer sighed. “Ya remember that blueprint, doc?” Engineer put special emphasis on it to see if he remembered. The way the Medic's face contoured into a shocked, but repulsed face gave him the indication that he did.
“Oh, Dell...” Medic rubbed his fingertips over the bridge of his nose. “I told you to be CAREFUL vith zhat thing!”
Engineer sighs. He wasn't going to tell Medic that he was more or less forced to do it, lest carry the consequences for ages to come. So he knew he had to lie. Or at the very least, stretch the truth. He slipped his hand back under the covers. “Saw the RED Engie last battle. Dunno how HE got his hands on that blueprint, but no matter how he did, he got the job done. Saw it when he removed his glove.”
Medic paced around the room, rubbing over his face. Silence set in aside from the quick footsteps of boots on the floor.
Heavy, in the meantime, had begun eating the banana bread. “Doktor es looking concerned.” he said.
“Of course I am concerned. Ve gonna have to reset all spawns, explain everyzhing to zhe Administrator, ve are gonna call RED and…oh, zhere is gonna be tons of papervork. Tons. For such an inconvenience. Zhis is gonna take us back on zhe battle schedules, and zhe paychecks, and --” He ran his fingers though his black short hair. “Zhis is – nein, zhis is highly inappropriate at zhis moment.”
“Inappropriate?!” Soldier spat. He had kept himself out of the discussion so far until now, pushing himself off the wall and approaching. “What do you mean with inappropriate?”
“Ve just recovered from a giant breadmonster attack which make us liable to all damages. Ve vill have to restore zhe base and pay for any damage ve cannot replace, vhich cuts off our paychecks in less zhan a half! Zhis is a huge inconvenience for us, and ve need Engineer's help. He is useless in zhis state of --”
“Useless? USELESS?!” Soldier's face, or whatever was not hidden, turned red like a ripe tomato.
“I do NOT allow such degeneratewords coming out of your mouth! Anything the greasemonkey has done for us so far as done nothing but proven to be beneficial for us! He was the one suggesting to file in a request for more weapons! He has been the one fixing and improving all of our armory! He has been the one fighting against our almost-demise while you have wasted everyone's time with your false diagnostics! And you dare speak of uselessness, Doktor Mengele?!”
Heavy had instantly risen from his seat and planted himself only mere inches before the Soldier. He easily loomed over the American by at least a head or two.
“Leetle man take back dat.” Heavy snarled.
“Make me, Stalingrad!”
"I'll bash head in until helmet ees bowl of brain soup!!"
“Heavy!”
“Soldier!”
The two mercenaries stopped their insensitive staring and turned their heads to Medic and Engineer.
Engineer was coughing from yelling his name. Soldier almost instantly forgot every bit of anger and rage and willingness to start a fight right here and then to quickly jump to the sink and prepare Engie a glass of water.
Engineer breathed through the ache in his throat. His still working hand clutched Soldier's shirt.
“Soldier,” he wheezed through his raw throat but his voice was riddled with anger. “I can't have ya runnin' round callin' mah friend such names! That ain't just doggone wrong, that is downright despicable.”
“But that's exactly what he i--”
“If ya endin' this there sentence right now,” Engineer threatened. Soldier was going to retort with more vehemence, but found himself not able to speak.
Stupid Engineers and their stupid power of making him shut up...
“Dell, Herr Soldier...” Medic sighed and turned to them. “I am sorry about vhat I said. I – of course its not an inconvenience; vhat Engineer did, I mean. And of course, he is not useless to us.” Heavy glowered at them still, knuckles cracking. Medic spoke softly to him in German and the man replied in Russian, but whatever Medic said, it had put the giant into submission. He turned and left the room.
“I am still aggrieved zhat I vas zhe last one learning about zhis, but...I know you two had your reasons not to trust me vith zhis. But I must ask of you to come and visit me later. Just so I can close zhe wound properly before it gets infected.”
“Yer...not sewin' mah hand back on, then?” Engineer asked, perplexed. Medic looked both defeated, as well as curious. “No. As much as I vould love to do zhat – I am also very intrigued to know how useful zhis...Gunslinger proves itself to be. But, please, at least let me sew the wound up for you.”
Soldier helped Engineer into his boots and into a clean pair of his own slacks, which were a little tight around his belly and a little too long for his legs, and helped him down the hallway and into the Medic's office. Engineer was eased into a chair beneath a large Medi-ray gun.
“Very vell, let us get to vork, shall ve?” Medic lamented, as he set the levers on the large Medi-ray down to the lowest energy level. Engineer felt no pain during the procedure, thanks to being constantly healed. It also felt immensely nice to be free of fever for a couple of minutes.
“I must say, Engie zhis is one of zhe cleanest cuts I have yet seen! And vith vhat exactly did you cut zhis here?”
“Scout's sushi cleaver.”
“Ahh yes! Zhe japanese craftsmanship is a miracle, isn't it? Ach!! Soldier, no! Don't touch zhe medifluids!”
A hectic clank of jars echoed across, with a few rambled excuses from Soldiers side. He had grown bored of standing next to Engie's seat and watch folds of skin being sewn back together, so he started roaming.
“It's astounding zhat you survives zhis zhough. A man of your, vell eh – size vould have bled out quickly.”
“Vell, ye can thank Solly fer that.” Engineer smiled. “He's been there ta keep this ol' thing fixed up.”
“I must say, he does know his bandages.” Medic nodded. "But I still expect you to come to me vhenever zhere are any issues, you hear me?"
Engie grinned. "Don'cha worry, doc. Yer ain't gonna lose a loyal customer."
Engineer had been in too much pain to really register whatever it as that Soldier had done to him to prevent any more loss of blood and possibly death. This had been the second time Soldier had prevented him from dying. The second time Soldier had cared for him and nursed him back to health without asking questions, without caring about his own needs.
Darnit.
“Yer should consider makin' him yer apprentice.” Engineer muttered. More to himself than to Medic, really.
“Him?” Medic looked over his shoulder back to the Soldier, who was awfully interested in examining his set of bonesaws. “I – he’s, err…”
“I'm jokin'.” Engineer joked at the Medic's uncomfortable look on his face. “But, you're right. He saved me. Twice now. Knows how ta set bones back into place, and such...He's been pretty good in keepin' me outta trouble lately. Well, he does give me lotsa trouble back, but…”
“Vell, I guess you do learn some tricks at zhe military.” Medic continued sewing. The medi-beams were turning his head a little soft and his eyes a little heavy.
“He wanted ta help us with the teleporter, y’know?” Engie grinned. At least he could laugh at the situation now.
“Help us?” Medic grimaced. “I vish he hadn’t.”
“Yeah. Well. Had we known back then this was gon’ happen, I’d have stopped him too. But, y’know, he just wanted to be involved in the whole thing. He doesn’t really have anyone here in the team ta call a friend. Well, except me, and…I s’ppse he jus’ wanted to prove himself. Ugh. I feel bad at yellin' at him."
He should still be furious with Soldier for setting tat bread monster free in their base, but really. Now, medi-beam clouding his head, the entire situation just seemed so absurd to him, he couldn't help but laugh about it all.
He teleported bread, that son'uva'bitch!
"Vell," Medic shrugs. "He DID cause half zhe base to be destroyed."
"Right. Right..." Engie sighs. "How's the clean-up going?"
"Slow. Ve got zhe pantry up again. No more bland and vatery oatmeal, at least."
Engie grimaced. "Yeah. Sal's been feedin' me that stuff, too."
Glass clinked precariously in the background.
"Soldier, zhe medifluids are NOT for you!" Medic snarled, followed by silence.
Engie couldn't help it and laughed softly. He's like a kid getting caught stealing from the cookie jar, wasn't he? Whatever anger still lingered inside him, it was no match to the strange and sudden bout of...adoration he had for that big buffoon.
"He's a lil' excentric, I know. But really - he's got his heart at the right place. Well, under all that yellin' and commandin' and bravado, that is. Once yer gettin' through that, he's...”
Medic hummed in thought, sinking the curved needle through the Engineer’s flesh - until he stopped. He looked up to Engineer as if something suddenly dawned to him. Engineer wasn't looking at him. His drowsy eyes were set on Soldier, and Medic followed his gaze, and back to the Texan. Back to Soldier, and back to Engineer.
“Oh.” he muttered in understanding. “Oh...” Then, a broad, toothy smile appeared on his face. One that wrinkled his face and warmed the curious glint in his electric blues.
“Somethin' funny?” Engineer asked as he noticed it, too.
“Ohh, Nein, nein.” Medic tried, but failed, to set his face back to stoic concentration as he went back to slipping the needle into Engineer's skin. “Don't vorry about it.”
After ten more minutes, Medic snapped a scissor on the threads. “Zhere ve are! All fixed up.”
Engineer ran his fingers over it. It didn't hurt. Probably because he mostly lost all feelings at the top, which slowly regained itself once he touched further down.
“I know it’s, vell, it's not zhe prettiest sight. It might never truly heal up eizher. Zhere might be scars left, or patches of bones breaching through skin. A-And of course phantom pains, and...”
“No need ta worry, doc. Ya did a mighty fine job with this.” He rubbed the stump. No pains. No blood anymore. Even some color returned to his face after spending some hours in the healing beams.
“Hey Sal! Where ya at?”
Soldiers approach was heralded with loud clanking and rumbling as he seemed to be tripping over medical equipment. He came stumbling to the chair Engineer was sitting on, one hand draped behind his back, the other flat at his helmet.
“Sir, at your service, sir!” Soldier boomed.
“Yikes, Sal, a little, lower.” Engineer hissed.
“Apologies, sir!” Soldier answered, his voice only half as loud.
“Here, have a look.” Engineer stretched his arm into Soldier's direction. “Medic did some fine job, didn't he?”
Soldier eyed the sewing warily, like he was comparing Medic's work with his very own bandaging skills. Yet he seemed to have no reasons to complain. “This is highly acceptable. Son, you made me proud.” And he gave the doctor a brotherly slap on the shoulder, which made the poor man's knees give in.
“O-Ouch. Ah, vell, now, if you feel somezhing out of zhe ordinary, let me know. Ach I still wished I could have sewn your hand back into place. I havent sewn anything of flesh and skin in veeks!”
“Well, err. Speaking of that, I'll have one last favor to ask,” And Soldier finally slipped his other hand from behind his back.
His hand was missing. And a gush of blood streamed down his arm and soaked his coat. “I had a little accident with your bonesaws, doc.” And he drew the missing limb from his pocket.
“Darn.” Engineer muttered.
“Ohh!” Medic's eyes grew into two, mirth-filled globes.
It was late evening, the sun setting slowly and leaving the sky in a soft pink, when Spy knocked on Soldier's door. After a few elegant evening greetings, and apologizing for the late visit too, Engineer coaxed Soldier to open the door for him. He had, how considerate of him, not brought bread as a gift. Instead, he bid a them a fare evening, and placed a bottle of red wine next on the night table.
“I've meant to come earlier and provide you with, ah – liquid courage. But I see ze surgery already ‘appened. ‘ave zis anyway." he drew his fingertip over the neck of the bottle. "I do 'ope you are a man of delicate taste.”
Engineer wasn't, by any means. As a man from the south, usually the only two options he has had in his youth was beer, and a bottle of Jack Daniels, and that was all Engineer needed. He never had a taste for the so called 'finer' and 'fancier' swill.
“Oh, that's, uh – shucks Spy, ya shouldn't have!” he grabbed the wine bottle and eyed the name. “A Chato – uh, Chato...”
“Château La Couspaude.” A sly smile played around the Spy' lips. “One of ze more, mmh, let me call it – exquisite choices.”
Engineer blinked at him. “Y-Yer not tellin' me you've spend a fortune on this, right?”
Spy cocked his head back into his shoulders with a soft, drawn-out laughter. “Oh, non, non, don't vorry about zat. Let's just say – a little more rigor for security wouldn't harm zhe American wine depots.”
Soldier had pressed himself into the corner of the room next to the door, arms crossed over his chest, staring daggers into the Spy's back. He gave a gruff sneer that caught the French’s attention.
“Ah, Soldier. I take it you are the one taking care of our laborer.”
“Affirmative.” Soldier said dryly.
“Yes, I suppose zat vould be…appropriate, consideuring ze mess you put us into.”
Soldier scowled. “I have provided aid in Engineer’s teleporter issues, frog. I do not see what you have provided to help the issue.”
“Aid, hm?” Spy pressed his lips together in a thin line. He’s trying not to laugh, Engie knew.
“Yes, teleporting baked goods to and fro. Must ‘ave been ze epitome of research. Tell me, what groundbreaking discoveries ‘ave you made, monsieur Soldier?”
Soldier was silent for a minute.
“Thought so,” Spy
“I will not discuss classified information with the likes of you.You and your likes are nothing but trouble.”
“Ah, yes, classified information,” the French pursed his lips. let his eyes wander from the Soldier, to the ENgineer, back to the Soldier. “Hmm. How peculiar – it seems zat recently wheneveur zere is trouble on ze horizon, I happens to be the two of you, though.”
Engineer and Soldier shared a surprised glance. Darn, the Spook wasn’t entirely wrong, Engie realized. Not even Soldier knew how to respond to that.
“Careful, mon ami. Zis be'avior may spark conversations of…intentional sabotage among ze team.”
“Sabotage? SABOTAGE?!” Soldier raged. “What maggot DARES to think such filth?”
“Oh, ze usual subjects. The Administrator. The Mann twins.”
Me, said the look in Spy’s eyes.
Soldier drew near, just an inch away from the Spook’s face. “I do not condone any words of sabotage in MY base, in MY war! I will snap every single person’s neck that dares to utter such vitriolic falsities about me and Engineer!! You heard me, you ripe-smelling Belgian?!”
Engie held his breath and watched the two men, waiting for the first punch to fall.
Turns out, Spy did not do such a thing. Engineer caught the man's fingers twitching over the handle of his gun – then, moving to slip into his suit pocket and draw out a cigarette. With a calmness that radiated danger more than tranquility, he lit it up, and took a long drag.
“I would like to remind you zat it had been me, among ze otheur team members zat have fought, and ultimately defeated ze monsteur you 'ave created vith your very 'ands. In ze meanwhile, you 'ave been 'avin' a laugh as that enormous menace of a breadmonteur used you as its personal bouncy ball. Wouldn't it 'ave been to everyone else in zis base, Engineer especially, ve all vould be dead, presumably - by zhe fangs of zat bread-beast zat YOu 'ave created."
Spy had inched closer, towering over Soldier by half a head.
“I will not negotiate my motives with someone like you, crouton!” Soldier snapped back. “I have never had any doubt Engineer would pull us out of this situation faster than you'd know it, and I do not tolerate any critique on him and his or my contribution.”
“Your contribution, if you could even call it zat, was putting everyone at dangeur for your selfish, own entertainment, in case zat information has passed you.” Spy blew a plume of smoke into the Soldier's face.
Engineer bit his lip and metally prepared to have Soldier knock the Frencj out here and now. Instead Soldier's lips curled over his teeth into a scowl.
“ARE YOU IMPLYING I HAVE NOT DONE MY PART AS AN ASSET TO THIS TEAM?!”
“Non.” Spy retorted as calm as a man who just had been screamed at could act. “I entirely deny its existence.”
The fist came swinging and collided with Spy’s nose. The cigarette tumbled to the floor, blood sticking to the paper. Engie had to wrap his arm around Soldier’s neck and pull him down to the ground like a hogtied, rowdy bull.
“Let go this instant!” Soldier bucked angrily against Engineer’s body and was rewarded with Engie’s arm drawing tighter around his neck.
“Merde,” he heard the Spook curse. When Engie looked up, he found the man’s nose was crooked and most definitely broken. Blood poured from his nostril, down his mask. Motherhubber deserved it, Engie thought grimly and secretively.
“You soiled my suit, you half-witted imbecile!”
“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME, YOU—Augh!”
“Down boy!” Engie snapped at him.
“May I make a suggestion?” Spy spoke over the grunts of Soldier’s struggling. “Drop zat one. He’s a dangeur to himself and otheurs. You will realize zat once he’ll cost you anotheur limb.”
“You will- Gh!” Soldier, realizing that fighting against Engie’s restrains was a fruitless endeavor, ceased fighting. Once Engie was sure the man would no longer bust into violence, he let go of him.
“Take my words as a warning, not as an offence. You two are walking on thin ice. And, one of you,” and Spy’s eyes lifted towards Engineer’s face when he said that. “Is in dire need of…better company."
Soldier coughed, holding his neck. Spy touched the underside of his nose and grimaced as his gloves soaked with blood quickly. For good measure, he picked up his cigarette and extinguished it on Soldier's helmet.
"So before you put your grudge on someone for not sharing your percentage of brain capacity,” that was addressed to the military man. “You should consideur looking at yourself in ze mirror for once in a while.”
“P-Pah! Nothing's easier than that!!” Soldier snarled defiantly and swirled around – staring into the small mirror hanging above his sink.
The chuckle that echoed from Spy's chest was dripping with sadism.
“Gentleman,” he turned to the Engineer and nodded. “Have a good night.”
He left through the door, closing it behind him.
Engineer felt sick. Spy's words hung like a thick cloud in the room that wavered around his bed, the smell of cheap cigarettes clinging to his covers. Disgusting man, he thought.
He looked over to him, still staring angrily into the mirror. His chest tightened painfully and he swallowed. “Soldier, Spy didn't mean ya should be... you don't have to...” He sighed. “Jus' let it go.”
Soldier huffed, his hands balled into fists.
“I'll get that spook.” he snarled and grabbed his shovel.
“Soldier, no!” Engineer called. “Please don't. This team can't handle more gore and violence right now, just – let's forget what he said. Okay, pardner?”
Soldier had his back turned to the Engineer.
“Okay?” the Texan repeated.
Soldier didn't answer. He dropped the shovel with a rough clank, and marched over to the table, slumping down on one of the chairs. He didn't talk. Didn't look at him. Instead, for the next couple of hours, Soldier busied himself with cleaning his shotgun a little too rudely than he probably should be. Sometimes he would rise from his seat and leave, without saying a word, returning later and going back to cleaning his weaponry.
Engineer had picked up a book, one he had asked Soldier to fetch from his workshop. He tried concentrating on the story line and each dialogue but found himself repeating the same phrase again and again, for his mind was somewhere else completely, and he looked over the cover of the book occasionally to check on Soldier.
“If' ya clean that there weapon for any longer, yer soon gonna shoot bubbles instead of bullets.” Engineer chuckled tiredly. Soldier stopped scrubbing, but didn't reply, or turn around. He placed his shotgun aside, replacing it with one of his shovels.
“Yer holdin' up, pal...? You've been awfully quiet since the spook left...”
“I am fine.” Soldier retorted. It didn't sound all too convincing in Engie's opinion.
“Yer sure?” he probed.
“If you are implying that I care about what the croissant said, in any way, you are dead wrong, toymaker.”
So it was about that after all.
“Right. So, speakin' of that... now that we got the elephant in the room already,” Engineer placed the book on his lap. “I guess ah do deserve to know somethin' from you.”
Soldier stopped cleaning, yet still didn't look back at him. Engineer took a deep steeling breath.
“I would like to know why you continued teleportin’ when the bread became, err…sentient.”
Soldier's shoulder squared, he could see it in the way his shoulder's moved under the shirt he wore. He didn't say a word for a whole minute, and Engineer was about to drop the subject again and reached for a rag to clean the spots of blood on the floor.
“You and the Medic,” Soldier began then, very carefully weighting his words. “you were constantly in your laboratory and you were in your workshop and doing all this science mumbo jumbo. I know you don't allow me to get anywhere near your equipment of the Kraut's laboratory – and none of these other bunch of women and maggots even bothered to be any assistance for you. So...I thought...”
Engineer understood.
“I get’cha.” Engineer admitted softly. “I jus’ thought 'tis was jus', uh. Well. Yknow. One of yer moments.”
“Moments?” Soldier echoed. He looked just as lost as Engineer felt.
“Well, yknow, when yer, err...” he waved his hand. No need to further burden the man with anxieties.
They didn't touch the topic anymore until Engineer had set his book down and switched the lights off, with Soldier still rubbing a cloth over his collection of shotgun.
"I know it was my fault." Soldier said then, softly. He probably didn't think Engineer would hear him, for he spoke so softly, Engineer craned his head from the pillow.
"Hm?" Engie muttered. Soldier stayed quiet for a while once more, then proceeded: "The teleporter. The breadmonster. I know what I did was wrong."
Engineer didn't reply. That was...something coming from Soldier. Who never admitted that he's in the wrong.
"If you wish, you do not have to talk to me again.”
“What?” Engie shook his head. “Sal, c’mon, yer not serious.”
“I am never NOT serious,” the military man set his jaw. "You think I'm dumb." Soldier said. "I know you do. I do not need your sugarcoated sweet-talk. I know you think I do not know what's right from wrong. And that you keep me away from your work on purpose."
"Solly -"
Yikes, that hurt.
"I do not tolerate any of this behavior. Deceiving your commander and the team is traitorous and an offense to me. "
Engineer stood.
"Now yer listenin’ ta me, Soldier. If ye know when people lie to ya, yer flat terrible at it." he took a deep breath. For some reason, it was hard to breathe with the painful twitch inside his guts.
"If I told yer ya stupid, I told you because yes, y’all were doin' something doggone wrong. But that don’t mean I think you’re stupid.”
If Soldier was going to respond, he wasn’t going to let him.
“Spy ain’t got nuthin’, Sal. He can run his mouth all day, but we know what’s right and wrong. And what Spy’s been spoutin’ is gosh-darn bullcrap.”
“He said you deserve better company.”
“Well, he might be right – but so do you, y’know, Sal?”
He reached out, hoping to find him in the dark. His fingertips touch something soft. Something he's sure is fabric, and skin. He smooths his finger over the patch of warm skin, to realize he is touching the side of the man's neck. He felt him tense beneath his touch. He knows he should draw away, but there was something keeping him from stepping back, and something that pushed him.
"Go to sleep, Engie." Soldier said. His voice was deep and vacuous. He hears him shuffle again, then footsteps. The door opened, and light flooded into the room for a short moment as Soldier leaves, closing the door, and filling the room with darkness again.
The next day, Soldier was called back into the team for a quick emergency battle on Swiftwater. Those rotten RED bastards - although informed that the BLU team was lacking a team mate, these bastards thought they could slither around the ceasefire and push a landmine into their weaponry cargo train, now that their chances of winning were higher.
Or so they thought at least.
Engineer grinned when he imagined Soldier blasting RED to bits with his rocket launcher, or Pyro setting fire to their frontlines. It would be a vengeful fight, and surely Soldier would make up for their missing Engineer in pure determination and anger. He had promised him so upon his departure.
“And I will kick that RED Spy’s ass back into the future!” he promised too.
Engineer still smiled as he looked through the stack of papers, until he found the folded, slightly blood-covered blueprint of the gunslinger.
The smile faded from his face. Wow. Well – wow. Has he completely overseen the sheer amount of refined metal he was going to need for this when he ripped his hand off? He was quite sure he had never seen that much required spare parts for a single construction.
“Ya gotta be pullin' mah leg here...”
A little nervous, he shuffled over to his crates, and looked inside. Of course. Seems like skipping the post-battle scrap collecting did pay its price for him. Most of them were empty, or barely had anything left, and most of the parts that were useful he had to take for the next mission, or else he would be stuck with a level one sentry for the entire battle. And truly, scrap material wasn't growing on trees.
He sighed. And rubbed his hand over his face. “Well, guess ah gotta get back to the battlegrounds after all.”
If he was lucky, he might leave with a good amount of parts to use later on. He considered asking Demo to help him out with collecting the enemy’s weaponry to dismantle later on. Maybe Heavy too. Or maybe...
He was about to take out his old overall when he paused. He could also just ask Solly, right? He usually hung around with him after battle anyway, surely he wouldn't mind lending him a hand gathering some leftovers later on. Right?
Engineer took the overall off the hook inside the narrow locker he had, brushed some dust off of the fabric. Besides, he thought, post-battle Soldier usually was hard to simmer down as it was. He knew the sudden crash of adrenaline casued many people to become, well, irrational. Some needed more fighting, Soldier being one of them. Others needed a long drag from a bottle or a cigarette. Other’s needed a woman.
Engineer rubbed over the faint wrench emblem on the front of his overall, which used to be black, but has been washed out into a faint blue over the years. Maybe, if he gave Soldier an honest task after battle, he could keep him distracted from his lingering anger over what happened with the Spy. Maybe talk things out? He wanted very badly to do that.
You think I'm dumb. I know you think I do not know what's right from wrong. And that you keep me away from your work on purpose.
"I gotta do this right this time." He muttered. He had to. Soldier deserved this.
Chapter 10: Building
Chapter Text
“Mister Conagher, I'll get straight to the point.”
The smell of smoke inside the crammed room with no windows sat heavy in his throat. The only light source available came from a gigantic set of monitors above the desk. Bony fingers pushed the half smoked cigarette into the ashtray. “We are at danger. Or rather – I am in danger.”
“Ma'am?”
Something was fishy. This was a rare occurrence, being summoned by the woman behind the scenes.
“We have a problem – a major problem. You do remember the rumors of a third, missing Mann brother, no?”
“I do,” he said. “Buit it’s jus’ a rumor. Ain’t it?”
“Unfortunately, I must disappoint you. He is reak.” the tall woman fumbled for a new smoke. “And he eliminated his brothers.”
Engineer felt a cold sweat break out on his face. “He killed Blutarch and Redmond? But the Life extender – ”
“A silly contraption cannot make you immortal, Conagher – it only protects you from the tedious inevitable death from old age. And even that is limited.”
Silence. Engineer pushed down his goggled. “That means we're...”
“Unemployed. Yes. My condolences. But that's not the point, Conagher. The point is – Gray now aims to destroy the rest of Mann Co as well.”
“And how's he gonna do that?”
The Administrator pushed a few buttons on her control panel. The tv screens buzzed, then, a picture appeared. The Engineer stepped closer. For a moment, he was sure it showed BLU Heavy. But upon closer look, he realized this there was not Heavy. Not their Heavy. Heck, not even a human for all intents and purposes.
“Robots, Conagher.” the female voice explained. “He plans on taking Mann Co over with robots. You may find an uncanny resemblance to our Heavy Weapons specialist. But there's more.”
Another click of a button. Like a slideshow, Engineer stared back at the cold, rusty image of a robot that looked just like Scout. And one like Medic. One like Demo, one like Spy – A Soldier one.
And, Engineer gulped thickly – an Engineer one.
He stared back at the lifeless metallic figure so eerily resembling himself. A wave of nausea hit him. What kind of sick individual must that Gray Mann be to intentionally create a copied army of their own team?
“H-How? When –?”
“We don't know. Fact is, this is a major threat, especially to me, to your grandfather’s work, and everything that wears the Mann Co label, Conagher.” The large chair turned. Cold eyes, with the softest gleam of gold, glared back at him. “He wants the Australium. The last bit that exists.”
Engineer stared between her. Back to the Robot on screen. Back to her.
“Who else knows?”
“No one.”
“Pauling?”
“Pauling will know sooner or later. For now, I like to keep this between you and me.”
Engineer frowned. If Pauling didn't know, but Engineer out of all the people had the privilege to know...
“Where is this goin', Ma'am?” he asked warily.
“The circumstances call for urgent measures, Conagher. Gray is on his way to send armies of robots our way. I already contacted Saxton Hale to send every bit of Australium he has to me. I alone have the last cache of it and I will protect it with every bit of life that's still inside me.”
After a long pause, she looked from the screen back to the man.
“Unfortunately, I do not trust Saxton Hale. That imbecile has sold his company multiple times to the wrong people for the worst reasons, one of them was a 'rare gold-toothed tiger', which turned out to be a dog with painted on stripes. He has used his sheer physical power to get back what he wants but this time, I fear, he will not fight to get his company back once Gray takes it over. And he will take it over, one way or another I reckon. And I,” The Administrator lifted the fresh cigarette to her thin painted lips. “I have to survive.”
They stared at each other for a long while. “You are not to tell anybody. You are not to speak about this to anyone. Not Pauling, not your team, not your closest relatives. Understand that?”
Engineer did not answer, but the faint bow of his head indicated he understood clearly.
“You will prepare for an emergency getaway. You will take everything you have that's of value to me. You will take every gear of your workshop and take it with you once the moment comes we both have to leave.”
“Where will we be goin' to?”
“You'll see once the time comes.”
“And fer how long?”
“As long as it's necessary.”
Engineer's grip around his helmet tightened. He was about to open his mouth -
“No, Conagher, this is no matter of choice. You will accept. Else I'll have you, your entire family, and every trace of your existence, and everyone you hold dear, wiped from this very planet. And I mean, everyone.” A shudder ran through the man's body. Grey, colorless eyes stared back at him intensely. She took a long drag from her cigarette. “I know you are spending an unhealthy amount of time with one of you team colleagues.” she said, very calmly, and very slowly. Menacingly slow. “I want you to understand that any mistake you do, any attempt to deceive or abandon me will cost both your heads. Yours, and his. Is that clear, Conagher?”
Engineer's knees felt very mushy and weak all of the sudden. How much exactly did she know? Did she know about Soldier's training plan for him? About what happened in Snowplow? About the trainwreck? About Soldier playing nurse for him? Every little bit they did, said, spoke about and discussed? Probably everything, he reasoned with himself. For whenever he thought he had a moment that kept him and his friend away from the eyes of the world, he was reminded it was a facade.
He swallowed. Then, nodded.
“Good.” Once again, she pressed the half-smoked cigarette down into the overfilled ashtray, and stood. “I will see you in the medical room in ten minutes.”
“Ma'am, yer said yourself there ain't much left – “
“There will be enough left, Conagher. Enough to settle a debt, for sure. And please, get that horrendous stump of yours a new hand. I will issue new scraps to the battlefield on Monday.”
“What do you think you are doing, maggot?”
Engineer looked up from the piece of metal he held in his hand. Even with his tinted goggles on, he had to shield his eyes from the orange evening sun stinging in his eyes.
King of the hill missions usually left him feeling exhausted but overall more satisfied than most missions. And in favor of his lost limb.
After a few calculations and tries to find a spot that offered shelter from enemy’s projectiles and stayed hidden from Snipers’, Scouts’ and Spies’ eyes, while dealing enough damage to keep their point protected, they had successfully captured Harvest for themselves.
The autumn sun left a pleasant warm burn on his face as he let the dust settle, and waited for the enemy team to pack their crap and leave before Soldier got to them first. Then, Engie’s task began.
He had arrived later than the rest, in his own blue rusty pickup. Trunk filled with crates. And then, he began collecting. Leftover weaponry. Dropped ammunition. Large pieces of scraps that were plunged off of old cars, fridges, lockers, whatever he found on the dump behind the fences and inside the battlefields. He had honestly not expected anybody to have stayed. But there he was, crouching down on the smooth metallic surface of the control point, shining in a steely blue, to pick up and dismantle the barrel of a minigun, when the creaking of two leather boots came to a halt right before his nose.
Engineer looked along the length of the man's legs until his eyes met with the shadowed face of the Soldier.. Blood sprinkles covered the rough weather-beaten skin of the man. Dirt caked his boots and his pants, and his jacket was shredded at some places. He smelled of blood, smoke, and heated skin. He felt apprehensive. Engineer's eyes flickered along the landscape, searching for a sign she was watching. She was, he knew. She always is.
“Well, what I'm usually doin' after the battle.” Engineer said calmly. “Gatherin' some scraps.”
“Are you mocking me, comrade?” Soldier snarled back. Engineer felt a sudden hard nudge at the rim of his helmet. Blinking, he was suddenly face to face with the unsafe side of a shotgun's barrel. His stomach dropped. His eye flickered back up to the Soldier. He looked positively pissed, and Engineer felt suddenly very uneasy. “The rules are nobody heavily injured is allowed after lockdown. And we -” another nudge. “Are in-” a third nudge. “FULL LOCK DOWN!!”
Now it was Engineer's turn to look uptight. With a grunt, he shoved the shotgun out of his face. “If yer would stop pokin' yer gun into mah face,” he hissed.
“I have no pity with green beaks that think they can teeter around the regulations.”
Engineer sucked in a deep steeling breath. Stay calm, he said to himself. Getting mad now was not going to solve things. Besides, if Soldier was telling the truth, and he was usually telling the truth when he recited the teams provisions, he may be in trouble.
“Regulations that apply if I’'m an old, tottery grandad. Which I'm not yet, Mister. What ya think might happen? A coyote steals me away? Ye think I can't keep mahself safe?”
“Rules are rules, and need to be followed! BESIDES – there are worse things than coyotes out there! There could be a slippery backstabbing frogleg on the loose.”
The colorful world of insults that Soldier had started to form for the Spy seemed to have increased ever since their own spook had visited them. Not a coincidence, he supposed.
“I'm appreciatin' yer general worry fer me but I'm jus' here ta fill up mah crates, Sal. Is all. After that I’mma be on my way again, alright?”
Soldier looked down towards the scrap metal in Engineer's hand. Then back to Engineer. Then back to the piece of metal.
“You never take such large pieces back to the base.” he concluded.
“Yer right, I don't usually.” Engineer ran his hand and stump over his overall to smooth it down as he stands again. “But I need as much as I can grab. Fer this here.” he would have wiggled the fingers on his right hand, if he still had them.
Soldier cocked his head, and finally, lowered the gun. “You need scrap metal for your arm?”
“Remember the Gunslinger I told y'all abouts? Gonna need tons of this here stuff ta build it. So, I'm takin' everythin' I find.”
Engineer supposed that would leave the Soldier with a satisfying answer, so he crouched down again to pick apart the minigun. Soldier didn't budge. He watched carefully as Engineer struggled to tear the casing off of the barrel. Soldier gave a grunt as he knelt next to him. His large calloused hands gripped the edge of the sharp metal and tugged. It slipped off easily. Engineer's face felt a little hot beneath the helmet.
“Thanks.” Engineer muttered, as he slipped his handless arm back into the pocket of his overall.
“How much do you intend to pick up from here?”
“Ye see those crates over yonder?” Engie pointed to his truck. “Gotta fill em up to the brim. And the trunk as well.”
Soldier harrumphed. “With your current pace you will be on it until the war is over. You are to report back to the base by nightfall!”
“Phew, nightfall ye say?” Engineer propped his fists into his sides, looking up into the sky. “Well, suns not down fer a while. I still have time then, don't I?”
“You – !“ Soldier ground his teeth. “As your commander I – !”
“Look, pardner - if yer have time on yer hands ta lecture me, ya could help me out some bit as well, don'cha think?”
It appeared as if Soldier had not expected that. He squared his shoulders, the straps of his helmet swaying as he jerked his head back.
“Do I appear to you as a common trash picker, maggot?!”
Engineer shook his head. “Nah, but – I'd jus' appreciate the help.” And then he smiled at the taller man with a friendly, lopsided smirk.
Soldier leaned from one leg to the other. He looked down, grumbled something, then slowly holstered his shotgun over his shoulder. “Fine, gearpants! I'll help you. By nightfall, we're out of here.”
“Deal!” Engineer beamed.
The next couple of hours, they were the only two souls out in the dry planes of Harvest, collecting metal.
At first it was a little hard to explain Soldier that he needed scrap parts that were not small and rusted over and he could not use empty bullet shells or knocked out teeth and bones. But Engineer did his best to try and find some use for them. Soldier brought an eyeball to him.
“This oughta be the RED Engineer's ones!” Soldier said triumphantly. He was right. His very own soft green eyecolor stared back at him. Engineer winced at first, then turned it to inspect it. He smiled and nodded, and put it in a crate. It was unlikely that he would use it – but surely Medic would love to store it. It may have been small things, but with each, Engineer noticed the Soldier was starting to enjoy this little activity.
Soldier would grab anything he found to bring back to the Texan. They varied from rusty trash, empty soup cans and lightbulbs to pipes, parts of cars and even a huge metal gate. He said he found it lying around, yet a quick glance at the enemy's spawn revealed that Soldier had been looting it, all along. It was barely even a room to start with, with doors, walls, and even tiles from the floor missing. Engineer slapped his knee in a fit of laughter.
“Whats so funny?!” Soldier growled.
“Ah, nothin' nothin'.” he brushed off a tear from beneath his goggles. And as at first Engineer told Soldier they should not rob RED's respawn place because that was immoral and a rotten thing to do, he eventually forgot about that too, and simply joined Soldier with dismantling the framework. “These sons-a-bitches won't even know what hitt'em.” Engie laughed and Soldier joined with his rough guffaw.
Slowly the crate filled up and they simply began throwing it into the trunk and the backseat. They lost track of it as they continued laughing and giggling about the dismantled enemy’s spawn-room, and the hilarious face they would make once they realized it. Which lead them into more stories of very funny experiences they had inside, and outside battle.
“And then that one-eyes scottish sonuvabitch broke both his legs and tumbled off the nearest cliff!”
Engineer gasped for air from how much he laughed. The pure image alone was morbid, yes, but goddamn it was just as funny.
“And, and, and one time he charged at me with his little flimsy butterknife of his, and I just pulled my shotgun, and BOOM!” Soldier threw his hands up. “His head exploded in all directions, like a firework on the fourth of July!”
“Oh god, oh mah god.” Engineer wheezed. “Ya gotta stop else yer killin' me.”
Their laughter died slowly, leaving them in a soft, comfortable afterglow of laughter. For a moment, he gladly forgot the conversation he had just days ago with the Aministrator that constantly sat in his neck like a pesky tick. Engineer tugged his goggles down and brushed his finger over his eyes to brush the tears away.
“If you think THAT'S to die for, you should take a look at the expression on that city boy's face when I made a clean cut through his neck.”
“Ah, I wish I could've.”
“You wanna?”
Engineer's laughter died into a soft chuckle, raising his head and blinking against the sun to look back at the man. “Wanna what?”
“See it.” Soldier said, shoulders squared. He seemed very antsy all of the sudden, a little like a giddy child on Christmas.
Engineer frowned. “Err -”
“Wait here!” Soldier quickly said, turned, and ran off towards the abandoned building.
It took Engineer a mere couple of minutes to understand what Soldier was referring to. He had led him to the outside of the battlegrounds, close to a farmhouse and the fence. The trail of blood in the sand was a little alarming at first, until the Texan came face to face with the cold, dead eyes of the enemies' Heavy. Cold, blanched eyes with merely a hint of color in them. Skin dead and pale. Throat slit, through skin, muscles, bones.
A faint trail of congealed blood ran down the fence nine heads were placed upon. Each of them from the enemy team. Expressions varied from shocked, to pained, to slackened, jaws dropped, tongues slipping past lips.
Soldier was saying something but Engie was not all too sure what it was – his eyes were glued to the row of dead, beady eyes staring back at him.
“Soldier.” he muttered. “What – what's this all?”
“That's my head collection.” Soldier stated, proudly. “Been on this for weeks now. Had my last addition today – see?” Soldier grabbed the nape of a RED Spy, blood squirting down to the floor in a small cascade. Engineer said nothing besides giving a stunned nod. He didn't know what he should say, in all honesty.
“So here's that short pants' face when I came crashing down on his communist ass! I tell you, he was in a big fat hurry to die, that fidgety little maggot.”
Engineer had always known Soldier to be eccentric, maybe truly a little touched in the head as well. But this. This was...
“Kiddo didn't even see me! Didn't even bother looking up once! And this scum they send out into my battle, with my team and – Engie, are you looking?”
“I'm...I mean...” Engie blinked hard. Some people collected stamps. Some collected bottlecaps. He himself collected rare pieces of scraps.
Soldier collected heads. Why not.
“This is...somethin' else.” Engineer chuckled nervously. “I-I mean that ain't bad per se, we all have...weird hobbies, I suppose.”
“A hobby? This?” Soldier sneered. “This is not a hobby, private. This here -” Soldier set the Scout's head back on the fence with a gut-clenching squish! “This here is a monument. A motivation. This you should show to every young soldier out there – to make them see their enemy is vulnerable. Their enemy can be killed. Every single one of them.” Soldier looked down at the heads for a while, his hand clenching around the wood of the fence.
“I was once young and afraid too, private. We all were. You are there, suddenly, alone, cold, eaten alive by fear, not afraid of the uncertain anymore, but the inevitable. When the silence is worse than the noises, when the calm before the storm will drive you insane slowly. It's like the entire world thrives to murder you, from every corner, at any moment. But then, you will learn eventually that everything around you can be killed just as easily as yourself. I've died a thousand times. And I will die a thousand more if I have to. But these,--” he tapped his finger into the Spy's eye and it sunk a little further into its cavity. “These here are just as mortal as you and me are. This is vital. Helps to keep your mind focused on what your job is.”
On the way back to the car, Engineer was very silent, while Soldier kept babbling on about how he had gained the RED Demoman's head, which seemed to be a particularly messy story. He might have found it interesting , had he been paying attention. He watched the RED Medics head tilt, tilting, tilting and then simply slumping down onto the ground with a wet splash.
Engineer helped Soldier to store the heads back into the small hidden barn behind the fence. It was still a little grotesque to hold a bleeding head staring back at you and just throw it back into a shed. But hey – Soldier had helped him, he should at least have the decency to help back. Soldier closed the doors and locked them tightly. Engineer sighed and looked up to the sky. Sun was setting slowly.
“Welp, I think we're done here. Whaddaya say?” Engineer nudged Soldier's shoulder with his elbow. “Head home?”
“Yessir.” Soldier nodded back.
They loaded the trunk with the crates, fixing the load with a blanket and some ropes, they were ready to go. The sun was sliding along the horizon and the dusty desert floor was dyed in a blanked of orange pinkish colors. Engineer stretched his arms above his head.
“Jus’ in time, hm?” He gave Soldier a pat on the back. “Thanks a lot fer helpin' me t'day, Solly. I wouldn't have done it without ya.”
“No need to thank me Engie.” Soldier saluted. Engineer lazily saluted back. “Yeah, errr y'think Icould ask yer fer one more favor t'day?”
Engineer slipped his hand in his pocket. “Drivin's still a lil' hard with jus' one hand, so –“
Soldier noticed something glistening in the setting light and he reflexively cupped his hand around the object to catch it. Car keys.
“Ye know the way home, yeah?”
Soldier stared at the keys in his hand for longer than needed. Then he looked up back at Engie in a blank expression.
“What's the matter?” Engie asked.
“I'm – I haven't – “ Soldier muttered, then shook his head. “No worries Engie! I'll bring us home safely.”
It was clear that Soldier had never driven a car. Ever in his life. Leaving Engie instructing him everything he had to do to start the car. “Look, key goes in 'ere.” he pointed at the slit at the side of the steering wheel. “Yer put it in and turn it. Keep her foot on the clutch.”
“This here?” Soldier asked and the car suddenly made a violent thrust forward, nearly throwing Engie out of his seat.
“That's the gas pedal!” Engie groaned. “The one on the very left!”
Soldier rearranged his feet until he set it right, pushing it down.
“Good. Now...slow and steady – lift your foot from the clutch.”
Soldier did and the car began moving. Slowly. Soldier grinned happily, and instantly aimed for the road. “Excellent instructions Engie! Look, we are off.”
“Well, we are off one mile per hour, sure.” Engie chuckled nervously. “You can accelerate now, yknow?”
Soldier kicked into the gas pedal.
“Whoa whoa, stop, not that hard!” Engie wrapped his hand around the car door handle. “Slowly! Slowly, and then you shift gears.”
“Gear?” Soldier looked at him.
“Eyes on the road, boy!”
Soldier swung his head back to the window. “Gear?” he asks again without turning his head.
“Here.” the Texan petted the gearshift like a dogs head. “Yer put yer foot on the clutch and get into the next gear. Yer doin' good. Foot on the clutch – good. Alright, I'll shift for yer this time.”
He pushed it into the second gear, and the car instantly got faster. Soldier grinned back at the smaller man next to him. “I did it!”
“Ya did it.” Engineer agreed and chuckled, warm and soft and he patted his shoulder, until Soldier went into the next gear.
They were lucky the streets were empty at this time, so Soldier could experiment with the car on his own – which led them quite into the wrong direction. Soldier didn't seem to realize, and once Engineer did, he suddenly went stiff in his seat.
“We should’ve arrived half an hour ago...” he muttered. He looked through the side mirror to see the sun had fully set at this point and darkness set in. Engineer flicked the lights on the dashboard.
“No worries, private, I know the way home! We are right, see? Says Clovis right there!” Soldier pointed at the approaching street sign. The sign did not say Clovis, and they were definitely not on the usual road close to route 77. It said 'Carlsbad, 180 Miles.'
“Solly, don't panic, but I think we got lost.” Engie mumbled in defeat. He had hoped to arrive at the base for a nice dinner, he hadn't eaten since this morning and he missed a good hot shower, too. Not to mention, to bring his scraps into his workshop and starting with the gunslinger. Soldier argued for a few more minutes that he would manage to bring them home safely, but Engineer shook his head.
“Ain't got enough gas ta get us home in one go.” Of course, Engie had forgotten to check the tank as well. Fantastic.
He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “A'right, Sal – time ta find us a motel and continue tomorrow.”
“A motel?” Soldier scowled. “Mollycoddled women in pelt coats take motels! We are men – we will sleep in this car and continue once the sun comes out and find us a gas station.”
“Don't take this the wrong way, Sal, but fer once I really rather be a mollycoddled furcoat lady and take mah scraps to a safer place than out here in the nowhere. Besides I’m sure they oughta have one can of gas fer us ta spare – and really, I'm not feelin' like sleepin' in a car today.”
Soldier threw him a contemptuous glare, but did as Engie said, and they both turned into the parking slots of the next motel they found. It was sordid to say the least. The hot pink sign above the building blinked and flickered, the small swimming pool behind man-high metal fences filled with more leaves and foliage than actual water, and as far as they could see, they were one of the only one's bothering to stay the night.
The tinkerer sighed. “Well, it's better than nothin', ain't it?” he said as he opened the door and climbed out, swinging his duffle bag over his shoulder. “Well, this ain't the prettiest place a reckon but – It's jus' one night and tomorrow we'll be goin' back on the road, yeah?”
“Affirmative!” Soldier hollered, and climbed out himself, holstering his shotgun.
“Whoa, whoa, hold yer horses, rocketboy.” Engineer rounded the car to stand in front of him, arms extended to keep Soldier from walking. “Yer can't take yer equipment in there.”
Soldier's lips drew over his teeth in a snarl. “And who says I can't, rodeoclown?”
“We can't barge in there with weapons thinkin' they gonna give us a warm welcome – They gonna think we're here ta rob the place.”
“But we aren't.” Soldier argued. “If this here establishment is under attack, I WILL defend us with this here.”
“There ain't nobody here aside from us.” Engineer rubbed his temple. “C'mon Sal, I jus' wanna get us a room, and sleep. We ain't gonna get if if'n ya armed to the teeth.”
“Pah!” Soldier hissed. “Fine. If you're too scared of some gunpower at your night table.”
The commando threw his shotgun back into the passenger seat, and closed it.
“Soldier.” Engineer said in a warning manner.
“What?!” Soldier snarled back.
The Texan raised his brows, and pointed at the bandolier. “This there gotta go too.”
“BUT – “
“C'mon, Sal. All of it.”
The soldier growled even louder, but obediently stripped himself bare from his two grenades and placed them, very carefully, on the dashboard. And off they went inside the building.
The reception was tiny and smelt of decades of cigarette smoke clutching to the carpeted walls. The floor was stained and worn out, the lights in the corridors behind them flickered. At the reception table stood a very sour looking, overweight teenager, chewing gum, headphone in her ears, browsing through magazines. “Ahem.” Engineer cleared his throat. The young woman didn't even spare them a single glance. Engineer tapped his finger on the table, before giving the bell a soft pat. The ringing seemed to catch the lady's attention. She pulled the plugs from her ear.
“What'cha want?” she asked, rather crassly.
“A room would be nice.”
The lady arched her brow at the two, looking between the short one with the Texan accent and the taller one with the helmet. “One room?”
“Well, uhm,” he turned to Soldier. “Would ya prefer a room for yerself?”
“Negatory.” Soldier growled. “I can't run risk having one of my team members strangled, shot, stabbed or raped while I'm two corridors away! One room, no windows, no fireplace!”
“E-Err, with separate beds if ye have one.” Engineer quickly threw in.
The lady's face scrunched in confusion, but did as she was asked, flipping through a book. “Well, we got the common rooms and the VIP honeymoon suites.” She pointed at the shifty corridor behind them. If that was the luxury they offered, he wondered what the normal rooms looked like.
“I think we'll go with common.” he said.
She hummed, turned around then and took a key from the hook. “Two person a night's a hundred bucks and twenty cents.”
Engineer nervously shoved his hands into his pockets and pulled out a few tattered dollar bills. “Err, shucks, Solly, ya got some cents with ye?”
Soldier roamed his own pockets, then threw some coins on the counter.
The lady looked down at the money. “Yer short on twenty bucks, pal.” she said critically.
“Now listen here, you little pimple-peppered buttercup,” Soldier's patience had run out.
“Sal, easy.” Engie muttered, sighed deeply, then dove his hand back into the other side of his pants. He pulls out a small phial which glistened in rich golden shades in the light. "Will this work?"
The lady narrowed her eyes. “The hell's that?”
“Australium.” Engineer explained. “Rarest material in the world. Where we two are from, they make weaponry with that here stuff – or, well, we use it fer some physical adjustments.”
The lady arched an eyebrow. “Physical adjustments?” she echoed warily.
“Ah, well, yknow - removin' grey hair, flattening wrinkles, improvin' the skin structure, weight loss and – “
“Weight loss?” The lady snatched it from his fingers, eyeing it skeptically. “And that stuff's legit?”
“May I?” Engineer took the phial back into his hand, opened it, and let a drop of golden liquid drop down onto a cut on his arm he had received from todays battle. The cut instantly closed, removing a few freckles that faintly peppered his skin as well. The girl looked fiercely impressed.
“So. Ya think that's gonna make up fer those twenty bucks?”
“Alright dude, you got it.” the girl tossed them their keys, and grabbed the phial once more. Looking back at them with a puzzled expression, Engineer mimicked to down it like a shot. Which she did. Wiping her lips, she pointed to the door. “Yer room's outside.”
“Much obliged, Ma'am!” Engineer grabbed their keys and dragged Soldier out of the reception room.
They walked up a staircase and to the upper levels of doors. “Well, this is gonna be fun once she realizes it'll pass in 24 hours.” the tinkerer snickered.
The rooms they passed seemed empty, except one, from which came a couple of really questionable sounds. Engineer felt his neck heating up at the joyful cries of a female and the rapid thumping of something heavy against the wall. He avoided glancing at Soldier that moment.
“Twenty three, twenty four, twenty five – Twenty six, here we go.” Engineer drew out his keys.
“Private.” Soldier said, before Engineer could unlock their door. The Texan looked back at him. “Hm?”
“You had Australium with you,” he said. “Where did you get it from?”
“Huh? Oh.” Engineer blanched a little. Then he started rubbing his neck. “Oh, well, y'see...”
He had once again acted, and spoken, before thinking. Not smart, Conagher.
“It's from...the Administrator.”
“Why would the Administrator give you Australium?”
Soldier was beginning to dig a little too deep into the topic, and Engineer once again felt watched. He felt the ghost of bony long finger slip around his throat to his jugular –
“Ah, see, Saxton Hale's thinkin' bout puttin' this stuff on our weapons in future. So, ah was given a sample to see what effects it has on metal.”
Soldier sneered. “A golden weapon. Hah! Next these pinko maggots come up with is hats that glow in the dark.”
Engineer turned the key and pushed the door open. The smell of horrendously cheap room re-freshener over molt and smoke instantly shot into his nose, and he let out a cough. He flicked the light switch. No light.
“Darn.” Engineer muttered, then carefully entered the dark room. Finding the table lamps on each side of the beds, he flicked them on and found them working, coloring the room in soft, gentle yellow.
The room was tiny. The wallpaper was stained, gray and torn at a few corners. More than once has it been used to extinguish cigarettes, or was soaked in different kinds of fluids. Engineer hoped it merely were spilled drinks, and nothing else. The floor was covered in an old, disgusting carpet, with just as many stains and dust settled upon. Engineer made sure to remember not to touch it with his bare feet.
There was a tiny closet at the other side of the room, and an even tinier bathroom. Engineer stopped midway. There weren't two beds as he requested. It was one, Queen size, covered in sheets that looked fresh at least. Engineer threw Soldier an uncomfortable glance.
“What? Afraid of sitting too close to your comrade?”
“Er, well, no. Jus' a little pissed we paid more fer less,” he crossed his arms. “And, uh, well I figured you'd prefer – “
“Are you assuming I cannot stand sleeping in a bed with another man?” Soldier shook his head, slammed the door shut and started locking every available lock. He also took the chair from the tiny table and pushed it beneath the doorhandle. “If you were with me at the front you'd be glad for another body lying next to you to keep your sissy genitals from freezing off.”
Engineer glanced up at the rattling air conditioner above the bed. Holding his hand against the bars, he felt a slight gust of cool air against his knuckles. “If we're lucky we might not die from a heat stroke, actually...” Engineer shrugged. “Oh well, let's make the best of it, shall we?”
“Affirmative.” Soldier rolled his shoulders. “Today was a successful day.”
“It sure was.” Engineer smiled at him. “Thanks again fer the help t'day.”
“No need to thank me, civilian.” Soldier said. “We fight for duty and honor, and we collect scrap material for duty and honor – “
That's when suddenly Engineer's stomach clenched and a low, angry gurgle rumbled. Engineer flinched, a faint pink dusting is face.
“Ah shucks – forgot ah haven't had anythin' solid since this mornin'...” he rubbed his tummy. He pushed himself off the bed again. “Well, I'll quickly skip to the next gas station and grab us somethin' fer dinner.”
“Negatory.” Soldier quickly stepped between him and the door.
“C'mon Sal, I'm really hungry.” Engineer began to feel annoyed.
“I will go and get us food. You stay here. And take a shower. You smell like fresh roadkill.”
“Gee. Thanks...” Engineer lifted his arm and sniffed. He was right though, a shower definitely seemed like a good idea. “Well, alright then. Jus' ask the nice lady at the reception fer a few gallons of gas before ya go.” Engineer slipped his hand into his pocket and gave him the keys. “And don't drive too far, yeah?”
“No fear, Engie, I'll be back before you can even blink.” he said, grabbed the last few dollar bills they had, and off he went.
It may not be the warmest shower Engie has had, but it was still a shower. He sighed long and deep as he washed sweat and dirt and blood off his body, let the warm water run down his neck and shoulders. For the last two to three hours, Engineer had forced himself not to let his mind wander off to what the Administrator said to him. But since he had to admit to Soldier where he got the australium from...
‘I want you to understand that any mistake you do, any attempt to deceive or abandon me will cost both your heads. Yours, and his.’
Engie leaned against the tiles and tried to even his breathing. Was it true that they would soon be fighting robots. Actual robot duplicates of themselves? And would Gray destroy everything and everyone who stood in his way?
Robots. How the heck would they deal with inanimate objects? Fight them? They would have to, he reckoned.
Well. THEY would fight them. His fate was predetermined already.
‘Where will we be goin’?’
‘You’ll see once the time comes.’
Engineer would be at her side, and he would have to watch them, unable to do anything. He couldn’t prevent whatever would happen to BLU, or RED. As much as he disliked those bunch of maniacs, he did not want to see them killed, tortured, or whatever terrible things Gray intended to do with them. Or his own team at that matter. And Solly. If he would be captured, harmed – killed, even...
Breathing became hard again. He inhaled, held his breath, exhaled slowly. He wished he had someone he could confess all this to. He couldn’t though. The Administrator warned him what exactly would happen if he did. I can’t even warn my own team, he thought, helplessly. Darn it all!
There was a gurgling sound above him, and suddenly, the water was out. For a few more minute, Engineer shivered in the cool air, hands wrapped around himself, back pressed against the cold tiles, eyes shut tightly. It felt like hours when he was able to breathe properly again. He dried himself, and dressed in his single white wife beater he wore beneath the blue shirt and his white boxers. He took his overall and dress-shirt and washed out blood and dust from the fabric in the sink. Luckily the lady at reception didn't notice the blood, he thought. He wrung out the last bit of water and hung them up to dry.
Soldier was gone for a while now and Engineer at some point wondered if he would find his way back. “Could be he's crashed mah old Betsy as well...” he mumbled to himself. At some point he figured that sitting around, waiting and staring into the nothingness would not do much but make him worry even more. So instead, he rummaged through his bag until he found what he was looking for. Rolling out the blueprint, his equipment and a small bag of scraps he had prepared to take to his room, he carried it back to the bed, set his reading glasses on his nose and began to tinker.
Soldier arrived around forty minutes later. He banged against the door with his boot, nearly hard enough to break it out of its frame. “It is I, private, open the door!”
“Easy, Easy!” Engineer called, dropped whatever he held in hand and quickly unlocked the door.
“Reporting for duty, Sir. I have coffee and san – “
Soldier stopped mid-sentence as he looked back at the Engineer. In his hand, he held two cups of still steaming coffee and two sealed sandwiches. Never had Engineer be this happy to see a terribly soggy plain gas station sandwich.
“Ah, good, thanks a bunch.” Engineer gratefully took one from Soldier's hand. “Yer didn't drive mah car into any rocks or trees, didye?” Engineer peeked over Soldier's shoulder.
“No, Sir.” Soldier shook his head.
“Good. Well, come on in then. No need ta stand in the doorway.” Engineer retreated into the room without noticing Soldier's eyes roaming along Engineer's wide, muscular back and his white boxers hugging the curve of his backside and broad thighs, watching the muscles ripple beneath his skin, and -
“Sal?” Engineer asked. “Yer alright?”
Soldier shook himself free from his staring and entered. “You cannot just open the door to anybody requesting entry, maggot!” Soldier snarled and kicked the door close behind him. “That's a violation against the safety measures.”
“But I already knew it was you, Sal.” Engineer arched his brow. “I know few people with yer voice.”
“Nonsense! It could have been an impostor!”
“Yer thinkin' about a Spy, ain'tya?” Engineer sat back on the bed. “I doubt it, Solly. I mean, look around, we're in the middle of nowhere. And as far as I'm concerned it's nighttime-curfew fer all of us at that time anyway.”
Soldier paused, then nodded. “Agreed.” he muttered, then downed his coffee in one quick gulp. “BUT STILL!” he set the cup down on the table hard. “We have orders and regulations, and I do not intend to break them.” Soldier unzipped his coat, then his belt and placed both carefully on the empty desk, then joined the Engineer on the other side of the bed, back turned towards him, as he untied his boots.
For a while neither spoke as Engineer ate and Soldier polished his boots. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence at all, more like a mutual agreement that neither had to add anything. Engineer would turn, and look back at the Soldier when he wanted to say something, but found himself losing his train of thoughts when he turned to ask if he wasn’t going to eat as well – when he saw the scar, stretching from his shoulder up to his nape. He recognized it from Snowplow. When he had let his hand go wander off and touch it. He still wondered what had caused this
“Ah jeez. That looks painful.” Engineer hissed.
Soldier stopped. “What?” he asked.
“This there?” Engineer tapped the spot on his neck.
Soldier turned his head over his shoulder, trying to look.
“On yer nape, dummy.”
“Oh. This?” Soldier’s fingers ran along the back of his head, fine dark blonde hair bristling against his hand. He seemed quiet for a moment. Oh, dear. That didn't look good. Maybe he had hit a sore spot on Soldier? The man never looked so serious all of the sudden when they talked about his scars.
“Nothing hurts, professor. Not me! Pain is weakness leaving the body, and have NO TIME for weakness.” he growled then, picking up his other shoe and rigorously scrubbing over it.
Engineer finished his coffee and meal, then went back to tinkering. It was tedious work with tiny particles he had to set together with his weak hand, and Engineer forcefully blinked in between to regain focus. He had a set of cables in all sizes and colors, as well as a few bolts and nuts and hinges. He could start with one digit out of five tonight.
“What are you doing there, Engie?” Soldier leaned over the bed and looked over the man's shoulder. The Texan cringed at the sudden break of silence, and the warm breath that had ghosted over his bare shoulder.
“A-Ah. This is, err. This is the Gunslinger.” he explained.
“This is the Gunslinger?” Soldier frowned.
“Well, a part of it. See?” Engineer passed him the blueprint to the sergeant. “I start here, and then proceed to put more and more pieces around the frame.”
Soldier stared at the blueprint from all sides. Tilting his head in tantrum as if that would make it easier for him to understand each step. Engineer turned the paper around until it was right again. “Look here, step one, then step two, three, four -”
“This is horsecrap.” Soldier growled. “It doesn't even have any descriptions! How's one supposed to puzzle this together without proper instructions?!”
“It does have instructions, see?” Engie pointed down to a large box with teeny tiny print. Soldier's nose nearly touched the paper, that's how hard he squinted.
“Ya don't need to damage yer eyes. Want me ta read it fer ya perhaps?”
“I can read on my own.” Soldier hissed.
Suddenly Engineer felt very awkward. The conversation they had back in Soldier's room came back to his mind.
'You think I'm stupid.'
“Oh I ain’t doubtin’ that.” Engineer forced a smile on his face. “But yknow what this here is?” he slipped his glasses off his nose. "It's readin' glasses. Over the years I've pressed mah nose into blueprints ta read small fonts, it busted mah vision.”
“You can't see?” Soldier frowned.
“I can see, but,” he picked up Soldier's hand, held it close to his face “If I look at yer hand, it's blurry to me. It's getting gradually better when I hold it farther away from me.” he said, slowly moving Soldier's hand away from his face until it was back in focus. “I'd jus' appreciate if that ain't happenin' to you either.”
Soldier looked down at Engineer's hand still on his, until he pulled away.
“Understood!” Soldier nodded.
Engineer picked up the blueprint again. “A'right either way, step one, assemblin' long and small pieces for the frame, I did that already, so let’s skip to step two. Building the casing. The section that'll get attached to my hand. Ah, I'm seein' here though...” Engineer squinted.
“You are NOT to squint maggot!”
“Whoops, heh, yer right.” Engineer chuckled awkwardly. “I'm not sure if I have any locking pliers though...
“These here?”
Engineer turned his head to peek over his shoulder.
“That's...yeah, that's the stuff.” Engineer muttered surprised, seeing Soldier holding the tool. Soldier passed it over to the Engineer. “How didy– actually, nevermind. I’ll need yer hand fer a moment.”
Soldier came scooting over the bed until he sat on his knees at Engie's side. Engineer pointed at the frame, and told him to hold it 'gently', while he would try to pry in some wires.
Before they knew, both of them had both hands in the project, well, three hands in total, with Engineer's stump being a dummy for the new robotic hand. He suffered a few burns, and a few electric shocks that Soldier gratefully took care of. Even Soldier himself got his fair share of burns, cuts and bruises on his already calloused hands.
“Okay, jus' remember - red cable with the green one. That one simulates the nerve strings, the blue one the muscles.” Engineer explained and Soldier nodded, keeping both cables away from each other. “I'll tell you go, then you put em together, yes?”
“Sir, yes sir!!”
“Good. Okay, hold on.” Engineer attached the base of the gunslinger on top of his stump. “Ready?”
He looked to the military man and he nodded. “Go!”
Soldier pressed both cables together. Engineer prepared for another shock of electricity down his bruised arm from faulty wiring, or for simply nothing to happen at all - but there. There it was. A twitch in the base of the index finger. Engineer's eyes widened.
“Again.” he breathed, and Soldier did. Another faint twitch. “It's movin'!” Engineer jumped off the bed to his feet. “Again, harder!” Engineer said. Both cables were pressed together and now the fingers curled and uncurled, a bit quicker, holding the position there. Engineer breathed a short, awe-filled laughter, before he gave Soldier the sign to stop. “Look at that, we're getting' there!”
He slipped the device off his hand and placed it carefully on top of the night stand. “We sure are getting' there. Well, we still need the casing and ta further puffer the finger-exoskeleton, but – we did some progress tonight, didn't we?” Engineer grinned from ear to ear, sumping back next to Soldier on the bed.
“Right now we should take it easy though, don't think I can handle another burn fer t'night, and Idon't wanna stress you fur– ”
Suddenly, there was movement. Something fell to the floor with a clank and the world span, before he found himself lying flat on his back on the mattress – above him a shadow. A wall of muscles, a white shirt with a dog tag dangling down just above his nose and –
He looked up into Soldier's obscured face, looming over him. Two powerful arms propping him up on each side of Engie's head, pressing deep into the sheets. A sudden shudder rippled through Engie's body. His mouth dry. His muscles immobilized. With wide eyes he stared back at the man above, taking in deep, steeling breaths that expanded his already broad torso. Thick, powerful thighs pressing down against the back of his own legs.
“...Sal?” Engineer asked cautiously.
He wished he didn't sound like a scared animal right now, looking up at him. It didn't really occur to him that his hands had subconsciously grabbed onto the man's biceps until he moved one of them from his arm to the top of his chest. Just in case he had to push the man off right there. Soldier's muscles twitched at the touch.
“Solly?” he repeated a bit louder. Soldier didn't answer. He craned his head down, lips pushing against his own. Engineer froze up in surprise.
He laid there, as Soldier vehemently rubbed his lips against the tinkerer’s in clumsy motions. One of those muscled thighs pushed at Engineer’s legs, nudging at it to get out of the way, until Engineer gave in and Soldier slotted his body with Engineer’s. Suddenly the Texan was covered in 200 pounds of Soldier.
Chapped lips pressed, suckled, nibbled on his own. They desperately asked for entrance, kissing at his in shock sealed mouth like it would open the gate. Engie was still a little dazed at the sudden assault, but then…
Things set into place like a puzzle. Like an itch he realized he had now that he had not yet noticed he couldn't scratch. His heart was drumming up to his ears and in his throat, fingers curling tighter around Soldier's biceps. Again a feeling of stones rolling down his stomach, breaking open with butterflies streaming out en masse. His head swam slightly. This felt good, his body agreed. He relaxed.
Closed his eyes. Opened his lips. And suddenly there he was, hot and damp and strong, tongues playing tag. He was so much all of the sudden, so much of him that Engineer's hands searched purchase on his body, hand holding his shirt, the other wrapped around his shoulder. Oxygen became suddenly hard to catch, and he gasped whenever Soldier left room for it. And then Soldier growled deep in his chest, pressing himself further against him, rumbling noises like a hungry animal.
The texan felt his body tremble in the rhythm of that vibrating, predatory voice. He could feel his lower lip bruise from how much Soldier nibbled at it, softly at first, then harder, letting his teeth sink down against his tender flesh until Engineer gasped. He dove down for another kiss, stealing the moan that traveled through his throat in its wake. Soldier’s arms encased him, crushing him close to his own. His hips pushed deep against the tinkerer’s, knees pressing against the back of Engie’s thigh until he had no choice but to lift them and let them dangle around the taller man's hips.
The next roll of the man’s hips woke him from his stupor. If he kept doing that...
“S-Sal. Soldier.” Engineer whispered. “Soldier!” he repeated a bit louder when he noticed the man above him wasn't listening. He growled angrily, but stopped assaulting his lips. For a short moment none of them spoke, just stared, panted, let their mingled breaths brush over each other’s faces.
“What are – why are you – “Engineer panted. “What in Sam's hill ya doin', boy?”
“What does it look like?” he hissed, impatiently.
“B-But – Why?”
Soldier sucked in deep breaths. A hint of uncertainty took hold of the stoic military man. He looked away, back down at him, away again, back at him. The question was left unanswered. Engineer finally found the strength to press his flat hand back on the Soldier's sturdy chest, pushing him off. He sat up, with Soldier ending up still straddling his lap. A thick coat of awkwardness settled over them, with Engie's face still burning, and Soldier sputtering some strongs of words to find a proper excuse for his actions. It was a little hard to watch the larger man fidgeting with his words. With a heavy sigh, the Texan shook his head.
“No need ta explain, Sal. Not pressuring yer.”
“You are – you are smart.” Soldier blurted.
“I– err.” Engineer blinked. “Come again?”
“You are smart.” Soldier repeated. “You...you are very smart. Smarter than the entire team combined! You build a limb out of recycled tin cans and broken nails.” Soldier gradually found his fervor again the more he talked. “You DESERVE to be kissed, private.” he hollered. “You deserve to be kissed and praised and to be given each and every medal there is – well, maybe not all of them! But a good bunch of them for sure!”
Engineer stared back at him for a while before he burst out laughing. He slumped back into the bed, hand over his eyes.
“What is – that's not – THAT IS NO REASON TO LAUGH, MAGGOT!!” Soldier snarled back. “Every man of my former garrison would have murdered for such an honor! I won't allow you to -!”
“Sorry, Sorry.” Engie brushed a tear from his cheek. “Yer right, yer right. Ah, jus' --” he shook his head with a grin. Lifting his calloused hand, he gave the man a pat against his study neck. “Yer a good fella, Sal. Damn good. Though I was expecting ta get said kisses from someone, well – not that manly.”
“What's wrong with being manly?!” Soldier sounded irked with a tinge of confusion. “If it's women you mean, I do not see any of these loitering around here. I must suffice for now.”
Engie finally managed to clear his eyes from wetness and his cheeks finally stopped glowing. He looked back at Soldier. “Yer....yer right, I s'ppose.” he muttered. Engie calmed down from his laughter, but the excited flip-flopping inside his stomach was still not simmering down. He swallowed, and his throat felt dry and clogged. This heavy awkwardness returned, yet this time it was...different. Strange. Like there were things unspoken that waited to be said, but Engineer didn't know what.
“W-We, uhm. We should sleep, don'cha think?” he asked.
“Agreed.” Soldier said. Engineer furtively nudged his knee against Soldier's inner thigh.
“Can't sleep with ye on top of me, though.”
The Soldier huffed then, and with a grunt, he unhooked his legs and rolled over to the other side of the bed. His broad back facing him.
“I will wake you at 0600 approximately. No excuses, hardhat. We have work to do tomorrow.” he muttered.
“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” Engineer agreed.
For a while, he laid there and stared, trying but failing to hold a respectable space between them on the bed. But given Soldier was quite the size, and given this was definitely a bed made for two people that enjoyed sharing each other’s company, Engineer found himself leaning against the taller man’s back. If it bothered the Soldier, he said not a word. And darn, Engie was tired…
Brushing his fingers thoughtfully along his lips, he stared up the ceiling.
There was something at the tip of his tongue he felt that needed to be said – he just didn’t know what it was. At first he was sure he should tell Soldier to stop doing this. Sudden kissing and such. That that was not the Texan way, and most likely not some secret Missouri tradition either. If they wanted to stay friends, this had to stop – because it came awfully close to what people in love did.
Which suddenly made Engineer jolt.
“What's this fidgeting about?” He heard Soldier growl into the pillow, making his heart thud hard against his ribcage.
“Nothin'. Nothin'.” Engineer grinned sheepishly, and relaxed back into the bed, eyes closing, trying to fall asleep. About twenty seconds later, his eyes sprung open again. “Solly?”
“Hrm?” Soldier mumbled. Engineer sat up again, blanket pooling around his hips.
“May I ask – have you ever...I mean...I uhm... gosh, how am I gonna say this without makin' that sound weird, but– ”
Soldier lifted his upper body from the pillow he had been holding in a choke hold and looked at him, expectantly.
“Have you, and RED Demo, ever...”
Soldier sat up instantly. “Did we what?”
“Done...Done this.” Engineer held his hands out as if to capture a whole situation into his arms. “Have ya fixed him up like ya fixed me up? Kept him outta trouble, and...kissed him?”
Soldier stared back at him. And Engineer added: “Yer never really talked about that time with him. Jus', yknow, how awful he is, what a disloyal sonuvabitch he is and that he has no honor and such, but – is this jus' somethin' ya do with yer friends?”
Soldier continued eyeing him, then he rolled back onto his back with a gruff noise.
“No.” he answered then. “Aside one night when we were having a post-battle gathering, and that one eyed dog tripped over a root of a tree and fell on top of me and accidentally slobbered all over my mouth.”
“Well, slap mah knee, that's romantic.” Engineer chuckled.
“Nothing's romantic about backstabbing scum kissing you with their slimy alcohol smelling lips on accident.” Soldier snarled. “I will not further talk about the cyclops now. I do not wish to waste any of my sleep thinking about him.”
“Right, Right.”Engineer nodded, and slipped back beneath the covers, flicking off the light. The room went pitch black, and there was nothing but the soft sound of their respiration and the blanket shuffling whenever someone moved slightly. Engineer closed his eyes, face buried into the pillow.
So if this was not a custom for Soldier to do with friends, then...maybe...?
Following the next few weeks Engineer found himself a little less lonely inside his workshop.
He left the door unlocked now, for whenever Soldier wanted to visit. And he visited frequently. Sometimes to report on what was happening on the battlefields, sometimes to bring him dinner. Soldier was there for a great amount of time the tinkerer spent working on his gunslinger as well, helping out, lending a hand so to say.
He helped him clean his work shop, helped him assemble scrap parts, carry boxes and all that. And for once, he found Soldier looking...happy almost?
The morning they left the Motel room, Engineer suggested Soldier should consider becoming his apprentice, helping him out in the workshop. At first Soldier looked a bit wary, arguing that he did not need any knowledge of engineering if all he needed to know was how to kill people efficiently.
“That's bull, everyone should have some basic knowledge about engineering,” Engineer offered with a smile. “Ya might learn somethin' useful in future. And, well, I still need a second set of hands ta help me out.”
And thus, the arrangement was set. At first Soldier was thoroughly unimpressed. But as the days bled into weeks, the harsh facade crumbled chip by chip, until Soldier found himself very invested in everything he was asked to do - Cleaning equipment, passing Engineer tools and parts, sorting scrap by size, material and colors. It all seemed a better alternative to Soldier’s usual daily activities.
Engie’s meetings with the administrator became more frequently, and with each visit, Engineer got a closer look upon what was coming at them at dangerous speed. The robot army Gray Mann was preparing was growing exponentially. Now, to Engineer's horror, giant robots were in the making. Enormous metallic Goliaths that towered even the tallest building Engineer had ever seen. How in every existing hell were they supposed to keep these things away from their facilities? They would crush them with a simple flick of their mechanic wrists.
Engineer returned home feeling sick and exhausted each time, with Soldier waiting inside his workshop.
“You are late, maggot.” the Soldier called. “Your dinner's getting cold.”
“Sorry, Sal.” Engineer rubbed his face with his hand. “S'been a hard conference.”
Since he was prohibited from sharing any information with anyone, and his weekly disappearances wouldn’t go unnoticed for much longer, he made some bullcrap excuse about international Engineering club-meetings.
Luckily nobody fact-checked that yet. There was no such thing as an international Engineering club, and if there was one, Engie definitely wasn’t part of it.
Soldier, however, seemed to notice something was wrong.
He stood from the table they usually shared, approaching. “Equipment is spick and span, Sir.” he saluted, and Engineer nodded, giving him a soft pat on the shoulder. “Thanks, Sal.” he muttered, dragging himself to the table.
“Sir. You look exhausted.”
“That's cuz I am.”
“You are overworking yourself again,” Soldier crossed his arms. “Remember the last time you overworked yourself?”
“I sure do...” Engineer looked down to his missing hand. Then down to the tray of food Soldier had fetched from the kitchen. He didn't feel one bit hungry, yet knowing he was eating with Soldier, he had no excuses.
“Eat, private.” Soldier nodded towards him as he seated himself across. Engie noticed the man picking up a sheet of paper and a pen from his drawers.
He began writing. Slowly, and a bit wonky as Engineer watched the man's hand shake a bit.
“What ya writin'?” Engineer asked.
Soldier looked up to him, then back to the piece of paper.
“Letters.”
“Ya writin' a letter? To whom?” Engineer suddenly felt oddly...strangled.
“To your lady?”
“My what now?” the Commando spat back.
“Yer gal. Wife. Beloved.” he asked.
Soldier scoffed. “I have no time for a common wench! This is my checkbook.”
“Checkbook?”
Soldier held up the letter and checkbook. “My loan. I'm sending it to the local animal shelter.”
Engineer nearly dropped his fork. “The...animal shelter?”
“Affirmative.” Soldier nodded, and kept scribbling along. “I send half of my loan to the animal shelter and the other half to the orphanage in Teufort.”
“Ya do?” Engineer muttered. “But – that's leavin' ya with very lil money, no?”
Soldier flashed a toothy grin. “NO MONEY in fact. But I can manage. These kids can't. And neither can those animals. I will NOT TOLERATE children and animals running cold and hungry on American ground! They are the future, greasemonkey! These will be the men and women, and beasts,that will carry our bodies to our respective, honorable graves. Help your brothers in arms when they are in need, no excuses.”
Crap. Should he tell him they were more or less officially unemployed?
“That's awfully noble of ya, Sal.” Engineer said thoughtfully.
“It's what I do for my fellow americans.”
They settled back into silence as Soldier scribbled along. He finished, placing the pencil down.
"Engie."
“Hm?” Engineer lifted his fork to his mouth and paused..
“I – I need – uhm – “
Whoa! Was Soldier blushing? Engie had to do a double-take. but sure enough. The man's neck was slightly flushed
“Need what, son?”
“I – you – You are smart.” Soldier said then. “Maybe you could – could uhm...” Soldier began pushing the letter towards the man across from him. “Make sure I made no slips?”
“Ah – yes. Sure thing.” Engineer dragged the letter over to his side of the table. Soldier’s font was wonky, scrawled, and littered with spelling errors. A five year old had better handwriting, he thought. Engie nodded, sighed and then smiled at the man. “C’mere, and bring yer pen.”
“For what?” Soldier blinked.
“We'll fix this thing together, hm?”
Soldier hesitated, then stood, taking the pen with him and moving around the table. “Sit 'ere.” Engineer patted the seat next to him. Soldier slipped on the bench close to the tinkerer.
Both of them leaned over the letter, dissecting it part for part and writing it down new on a different piece of paper.
“Aright, first things first – ya shouldn't start ya letter with 'Dear maggots'.”
“What? Why not?” Soldier protested.
“That ain't the right way ta talk to start letters, Mister. Too aggressive. Imagine they be sendin' that money straight back when they read this.”
“That would be horribly impolite and downright traitorous! We can't let that happen, Engie.”
“Right, we shouldn't. So, let's write this correctly.”
A few more moments of Soldier arguing that calling both animals and little kids “cadets” was a bit misleading while Soldier found it just right. He was very positive at least ninety-nine percent of those kids would ‘need to be drafted to grow into true American patriots’, while Engie dearly prayed none of those children would have to live through more bloodshed, and right when tensions between the US and Vietnam had just simmered down, too.
An hour later, and Soldier's letter was fully revamped, corrected and written down in Engineer's smooth handwriting.
“There we go. No need ta slap extra stamps on these ta be read.” Engineer joked.
“I thank you for your service, private! One last thing!” Soldier snatched the pen from his fingers, and began scribbling down something at the bottom.
SOLDIEЯ & ENGINER
Engineer couldn't fight the smile on his face. With a soft sigh that did not falter his smile, he took the pen from the commando's much bigger hand and squeezed in a second E In his name. He looked up. Soldier looked between him and the paper. Back at him and back at the paper –and when the military man looked away, Engie saw the flushed skin of the other man’s neck. Ough, his heart. It was doing that flip-flopping again and it didn’t stop.
And when Soldier sent his little letter off with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning, thanking Engineer for his help with a salute – and then an enthusiastic pat on his back that turned into a hug...
This is the closest thing to normalcy I’ll be feeling for the foreseeable future, he knew. He wanted to tell Soldier. He wanted so desperately to tell him everything, yet couldn’t. And all he could do was just hug the man back for as long as he allowed him to.
And he dreaded when it would stop being like this. Having a friend. Someone to help him with his work, a conversation partner for once in this usually cold and quiet workshop. The waking moments he noticed he had fell asleep over his desk again, with a blanket draped softly over his shoulders. He nearly did not ever want to finish that gunslinger. And yet Soldier pushed him. And the Administrator pushed him. And while her words were leaving a bitter and cold aftertaste, Soldier's words did the opposite – it encouraged him.
And a month and a half later, it was nearly done.Engineer sat, overall straps dangling down his body and his shirt gone, hand propped up as Soldier passed him all the equipment he needed.
“Sir, requesting to make a suggestion.” Soldier said. He looked uneasy, even with his face hidden. Body rigid and jaw squared.
“I know what ya wanna say,” Engineer muttered, flicking switches on his dispenser until it began rattling, glowing, engulfing Engineer in a soft blue glimmer. “But Medic's at the battlefield. And I need this done now.”
“Sir, requesting to make another suggestion?”
“No, Sal, this can't wait until tomorrow.” Engineer answered. “I don't have that time. It’ll happen tonight.”
After a pause, the tinkerer looked back at him. “Ya got the box?”
“Right here.” Soldier said and carried it over to the table. Engineer opened the case. Clenching his teeth, he picked up a scalpel.
“Requesting to make a third suggestion...?” Soldier muttered.
“What?” The Texan finally looked up and back at him.
Soldier seemed to hesitate, then approached, taking the scalpel from Engineer's hand. “Let me do it.”
“I, uhm – Yeah. I uhm...yer right. Ya should do it.”
Soldier grabbed a chair and sat by the table.He took hold of Engie's wrist, and held it gently, but firm.
“Sal.” Engineer placed his remaining hand on the other man's shoulder. “If I start strugglin' – keep me down. Okay?”
“Affirmative.” Soldier nodded. And then he began. Engie had marked where he needed to cut with a black pen.
He heard Engineer making a hissing sound in pain when the fist cut was made. The healing beams helped ease worst of the pain, but it still hurt like a dirty motherhubber! Engie’s free hand grabbed the first thing it found, finding purchase on Soldier’s knee.
“Don't stop now.” He ground out between clenched teeth, “Keep goin'.”
“Engie -”
“Ah said keep goin', Sal!!”
Blood dripped down onto Soldier’s pants. “Don't fall unconscious.” he growled into Engineer's direction.
“N-No. I'm not.” Engineer shook his head. “Jus’ keep at it.”
The blue healing beam latched onto him and engulfed him. They hadn’t had much time now. Engie grabbed the electrodes from the table and placed them carefully under his skin. The feeling was absolutely terrible, but luckily less painful than just morbid, watching the buttons vanish in the flesh and under his skin.
“Okay. Now.” Engie nodded.
Soldier picked up the base of the hand. It was a round blue cylindrical form, hollowed to perfectly fit on top of the man's arm-stump. He set it down on the exposed arm of the Engineer, carefully, until it slipped completely on top. Once it sat, Engineer gave him a nudge.
“Yer gotta twist it ta connect with the electrodes.” he muttered and his voice was hollow. He seemed to anticipate that this was going to hurt. He could feel the military man beside him hesitating again.
“Right way.” Engineer instructed, his voice a bit firmer. And Soldier did.
The prosthesis clicked into place. The base of the Gunslinger sat snugly around his arm. “Thanks, Sal.” Engie muttered, inspecting their handiwork. Turning it around, testing the hold. It was firmly planted on top of his arm. Not budging. “The hand now.” he held his arm out. Soldier picked up the metallic construction that resembled fingers, and passed it to the Engineer. He slipped it on top of the base, pressing a few buttons on the small console, then picked up the dangling disconnected wires.
“It's one fer each finger.” Engineer muttered, slipping them in place, ready to connect. He looked back at the Soldier.
“If’n this works, I’mma be fine. If not – I might end up getting’ zapped a few times. Jus’ continue on my behalf them, ya hear me?”
“Sir, I – I wouldn't know where to – “
“Ah lined em' up with the same colors. See?” Engineer showed him the wires and respective ports. He knew this would hurt. The cable would run down straight to the electrodes and bring sentience into the metallic fingers. He imagined it would hurt. Hurt a lot.
“Here we go,” Soldier said, and plugged the White cable into the port. There was a sudden pain, and then, nothingness.
When he opens his eyes again, something is shining down into his left eye. Then the other. It’s an assault on his senses.
“...gie. … gie.” he heard a voice somewhere at the end of a long dark tunnel. Coming closer.
He draws his first breath and shudders at the way his lungs felt heavy and useless for the next three more gasps, and suddenly, everything is back there. His senses. He sees and hears again – and feels. He groans at a burst of pain rushing up his arm. It felt like he lost the damn limb again.
“Engineer!”
Searching with unfocused eyes, his gaze falls on a shadow looming over him. Two shadows. One broad, the other lankier. “Engineer. Do you hear me? Bitte answer me if you can hear me.”
Ah. He remembers this voice.
“Unbelievable! Can't I leave you two alone for just one battle vithout finding one of you half-dead, again!? Vhat happened zhis time?”
“We connected his nerves to the Gunslinger and he got zapped.”
“Dummkopfs!! I could have made zhis much faster and much easier if you two Schweinhunds only vaited long enough!! “
“Do not call us whatever you just called us!! I will not be insulted by a leberwurst like you!!”
Engie groaned, blinking against the assaulting light shining in his eyes. “Shh! Look. He's coming around!” Medic breathed. “Mister Conagher, if you can hear me, please say somezhing.”
“Yer yellin' in mah ear, doc.” the faint voice of the engineer rustled.
“WUNDERBAR! You are alive!”
He was yanked up and back onto his feet, slowly the world stopped spinning. “Whu-What happened?” he asked.
“You passed out when I introduced the first cable.” Soldier reported.
“Darn,” he rumbled. “Don’t tell me I hit my head somewhere.”
“I caught you,” Soldier assured. Engie lifted his hand to rub over his face – and saw his prosthetic, hovering before his eyes. The last few cables were connected, presumably while he was out of it. The Engineer studied his new hand. Turned itr from one side to the other.
“Does...Does it vork?” Medic pushed his glasses further up his nose, giving the Gunslinger a critical glance.
“Dunno yet. We oughta see now,” he said. But how do you move something that was connected to your nerve system, but at best an inanimate object?
His brain gave the command. And his index finger bend. His breath hitched in his throat. It...it worked. Gods, it really worked! He repeated the come-hither motion again and again, adding a second finger, and a third to his bending and stretching practice.
“Solly.” he looked up at the man standing next to him, grinning from ear to ear. Soldier watched in awe as the robotic fingers curled and relaxed again. “We got it.”
“God im Himmel, it really vorks. I vouldn't have believed it vhen Soldier told me but – here it is. Zhe living proof. Let me see.” Medic reached out and picked the man's arm into his hands. “Oh zhis is excellent craftsmanship. Do you feel any pain vhen moving?”
“No.” Engineer shook his head. He was so shocked by the result of weeks of tinkering and perfecting it, he probably couldn’t feel anything else but wonder.
“Fascinating!! Oh, I have to – I must – “ Medic dropped the man's hand immediately. “I'll have to show Heavy, and zhen - no! Zhe whole team must see zhis!”
“OUT OF THE WAY, KRAUT!” Soldier suddenly pushed past the Medic. “I will be the first to show them!”
“V-Vhat? B-But I – “
“THIS IS MY PROJECT TOO, SO I HAVE THE RIGHT!” he hollered.
Medic had to readjust his glasses. “P-Puh. Ve could also just announce it togezher, how about zhat Herr Soldier?”
“Good idea Kraut! But before we do that –“
Before neither Engie nor Medic could say anything, Soldier took the tinkerer by his shoulders. Engineer blinked up at the man, opening his mouth to ask what he was up to – but found his voice muffled by a pair of lips pressing down against his.
Engineer froze up under the man's touch. Eyes wide open, he stared back at the rim of the man's dented helmet in mute shock. Engineer felt the man's persistent teeth nibbling at his lower lip, until Engineer opened them the slightest bit to feel a hot tongue slip past them and against his own. Not in front of Medic, you big oaf, he wanted to say, but all he could do was hold onto Soldier’s arms, one hand normal, one metallic.
He felt a hot gust of Soldier's breath tickle his cheek. Soldier drew back, teeth holding his lower lip and tugging, giving him the smallest moment to draw a breath, before he attacked again, with Engineer giving a soft gasping noise. He had no chance against Soldier’s force.
His insides fluttered like the propeller of a turbine and his heart was beating loudly in his own ears. Had he no ribs, it would have fallen out of his body of how hard and fast it beat. He closed his eyes to let his mouth be assaulted with sensations, suddenly not caring about what was happening around them, and who was watching, until – Soldier drew away from him. Engie blinked, noticing the soft shade of red on Soldier’s neck again, and Medic in the corner, eyebrows drawn up in mute surprise.
“Oh my.” he finally chirped, speaking what Engineer's groggy, confused mind was thinking. Soldier turned on his heels and stomped out of the door, hollering through the corridor.
“TEEEEN HUT, TEAM! Our Engineer has completed a marvelous task today! Today marks the day Engie stands as the first man alive that has created an artificial limb that responds to his will! ALL PRAISE OUR ENGIE! ALL MEDALS TO ENGIE! STOP SITTING AROUND YOU BUNCH OF BUTTERCUPS AND GET UP AND SALUTE TO OUR ENGIE!!”
Engineer's already red face turned redder immediately. Medic chuckled softly.
“W-What’s so funny, now?” Engie had to press his helmet down further over his eyes to hide his embarrassment.
“Oh, nothing.” Medic grinned. “I'll...go after him zhen! To, ah – spread zhe news.”
Chapter 11: Enduring
Notes:
I wanted to let everybody know that from this point on, we are in and post-comic plot. With comic I mean the tf2 comic you can read on their website. At the time I'm writing this the last issue isn't out yet. So if there is some major change from here compared to the next issue, then please consider this fanfiction an AU now. I will probably not go back to adjusting anything after the plot of issue 7 has been released.
2023 Update:
>issue 7
> lmao
Chapter Text
Ten months later
It's still there.
In the back of his mind, ringing in his ear. Inside his head. The quaking of steel and iron, the rattling of engines and gears grinding.
When he closes his eyes for too long he still sees those gray shining eyes, lifeless yet alive, staring back at him. He still hears those rattling voices hollering war-cries. Voices he knew too well, voices he knew to whom they belonged. Watching as the machine-replicas of his friends attack them mercilessly. Fighting RED seemed like a playdate, compared to this.
There was barely any time where they had any ceasefire. Only to stock up on their supplies, then, wait again. And wait. And wait. He hated waiting. He hated those stretched minutes of quietness. In those moments he wished for a robot to poke its tin-head from its hideout, just so the waiting would stop.
‘When the silence is worse than the noises, when the calm before the storm will drive you insane slowly.’
Everytime he put his body and mind to rest, he was back there, back in the sand, back at the front line. The first time he had seen the Robo-mercs, he was fascinated by them, rather than afraid. They worked like their counterpart, moved like their counterpart, even spoke like their counterparts. It was an eerie experience. That, and the merciless assault of bullets, rockets and pipebombs.
And then, they came.
The Goliaths. The giant robots that broke through barricades and through defenses and destroyed every dirty shithole they had to defend in the name of Mann Co.
The same scene plays before his eyes. Giant bodies jumping off the cliffs they came from, their massive legs catching them as they landed, a plume of sand and dust swirling up in the air, building a veil they easily break through as they take their long languish steps towards their destination. Each time in his dreams he stands there, immobilized. Looking up at the emotionless face of a robot Heavy as it mowed down his comrades.
As it stomped towards the open hatch at the entrance of the Mann Co building they were ordered to defend. He was standing on his own. Everyone was dead. He was alone. And he stood there, frozen, and the enormous bot’s eyes scanned the ground, finding him, spotting him.
Engineer's mind was screaming but all he could do was stare back, stare into those two floodlights. And it bent down. Its large arm letting go of the gigantic minigun – reaching out. Reaching towards him. Digits as big as cars gripped around his form, closing. Squeezing. Pressing, tearing – He's dying. He died so many deaths by these creatures' hands, but this one. This one feels like it’s going on forever.
And then he wakes up. His face is covered in cold sweat and his body is trembling. With shaking limbs he pushes himself out of this unfamiliar bed and sits there. Still panting, trying to catch his breath and calm his pumping heart.
He feels cold and hot at the same time. Sick and dizzy. He feels up and down himself to see that he was still here, still in one piece. He's still here. Still alive. Still hidden from the world, and hidden from everyone he knew.
It had been six months since the Mann versus Machine war ended officially, with Saxton Hale, just as the Administrator had predicted, letting Gray take over the company. The moment she was informed, she pulled Engineer out of the war. “Mister Conagher.” he still remembered her raspy voice speaking to him through his phone. “It's time.”
There was no time for any goodbyes. No time to speak to his team one last time. He packed his things as quick as he could, blueprints, his grandfather’s schematics for the life extending machine he built, his gadgets, and left his workshop.
“Make it look like an accident,” she had told him as he had smashed his own window and thrown over tables and chairs. “In case you will not come back.”
With shaking hands, he grabbed his loaded bags, and left. Didn't bother locking his workshop. Doors passed him as he tiptoed down the corridor, all the quarters of the men he worked with for nearly ten years.
At one of them, he came to a halt. Medic's lab. He gulped, yet knew he could not give the man one last hug, one last 'thank you' for everything he had done for him the last few years. Same for Pyro. The poor kid, he thought.
And at yet another door, he simply could not walk past. Soldier's room. Simply looking at the tightly locked door, his heart began aching. Soldier would lose yet another friend due to unfair circumstances.
Engineer looked between the hall and the door. Screw it! Pulling out one of the pieces of paper all stacked in the folder in his bag, he folded it, and wrote on top of the white, clean page.
I'm sorry. I have to go. Don't come looking for me.
Engie
He slipped the piece of paper beneath the door. Then he stood again, turned, and kept on walking. Which brought him here. Wherever 'here' was.
Once he met up with the Administrator, she had knocked him out on arrival. With one precise swing to his helmeted temple, he was out as a light. When he woke up he found himself in some...building. A building with no windows, and many, many closed doors. It felt like a maze of sorts. He was alone, and utterly confused – and ugh, his head hurt like ten sons of bitches.
He put his fingers to the bump on his skull. No blood, at least, but as he sat up, he felt immensely dizzy. He fought his way onto his legs and lurched aimlessly through the hallway. He came to a stop at the last door. Pressed his ear to the surface. Knocked. Then turned the handle. Locked. He tried next door. Locked as well. Locked. Locked. Locked. Every door in this darn hallway seemed locked.
He heard a strange buzzing noise at the end of the hallway, and followed the noise instead of bothering with trying to find an unlocked room. The end of the corridor was a large, open hall with, finally, a window. A large one at that. Staring outside, he looked into the sunrise – or sunset? - above a rocky landscape. The dunes and hills were dyed in a soft orange and the clouds above were pink.
He had no idea where they were. Somewhere still in New Mexico, he hoped at least. But this – it looked far more off the roads, far away from any civilization. He tumbled closer, hands pressing against the window, looking outside. Looking for anything familiar out there.
“Pretty, isn't it? Unfortunately, you will get tired to the sight in due time.”
Engineer flinched, stepping away from the window and wheeling around. He had not noticed her sitting inside the tall chair. She looked awful. Closer to a corpse than she ever did. Hair in long, messy strands, make up smeared around her baggy eyes. She had discarded her shoes and jacket, looking exhausted, but predatory nevertheless. With that single white strand in her faintly graying hair, she looked like a mangy animal – but a dangerous animal either way. Grey eyes stared at him, the faintest glow of yellow shining in the dark corner she sat in.
“Ma'am.” he gave a faint nod as his greeting. She ignored it. With languish movements she stood. Even without her shoes she towered over Engineer with ease. She joined him at the window, staring outside.
“I had this house built many years ago, when I came to this place. I loved the solitude. The drabness. The simplicity of this place. And you watch, and watch, and after a while, it all just becomes…familiar. And then, it's nothing more but another spot on this earth you have to endure looking at.”
Engineer blinked outside. “Where are we?” he asked.
“Someplace that isn’t falling apart.” she sucked in a deep breath. “I still need your services. Don't force me to drop you off the ledge of this rock if you ask me again.”
Engineer cringed but kept his mouth shut. She removed herself from the window, and began walking out through the door. She gave no indication for him to follow, yet, he did. To him, this place looked the same in all directions, but the Administrator knew her way around with little issue.
“My apologies or the unannounced knockout. I couldn’t risk you knowing what path we took to come here. Has anybody seen you?” she asked.
“No.” he said.
“I do not take kindly to being lied to, Conagher.”
“I'm not lying, Ma'am.”
“No?” She arched her brow at him. Engineer turned to her, looking back at her with a stoic face – a face that crumbled under the intense stare of the woman next to her. “I asked you to leave no traces.” she narrowed her eyes. “I asked you to make it look like an accident.”
“So I did, Ma'am.”
“And yet, you told him, didn't you?”
How did she know? Scratch that, he knew exactly how she knew. She sees everything.
“I told him not to come looking for me.”
“You chose your friendships quite poorly, Conagher,” she looked down at him like a scolding mother. “He is an imbecile. Tell a man like him not to do something, and he will break his neck trying.”
“Not if I tell him not to.” Engineer retorted, “Trust me, Ma'am. He won't.”
She sneered next to him. “I hope for your own good he will not.”
Yeah. So did he.
“I have sent out letters to all of your former colleagues, and opponents, that their contracts have been terminated. It would have made no sense to bid them farewell.”
“Terminated...” Engineer echoed. “Ya jus' gonna send them into unemployment with nothin' more than a notice?”
“What is it to you, Conagher? Your family has served me for decades, you have nothing to worry about.”
“This ain't about me, Ma'am. To some, this has been their life. They ain't survivin' a day without this job.”
He saw her pointy shoulders square. “You have a good heart, Conagher. That's what's differentiating you from your grandfather.” The Administrator gave him a narrowed glance from her shoulder. “I despise people with good hearts.”
Engineer glared back this time. His goggles obscured them, but he could feel she knew they had a silent stare down.
“You’ll have to learn to lay those habits down. If you want us to survive.” The click-clacking of her pointed shoes came to a halt. Her bony finger pointing to a large set of stairs. “These are my private quarters. Yours are at the end of this hallway. I have provided you a separate workshop in room five. Bathroom in door three, kitchen is in room six.” she grabbed a set of keys from her pocket, and handed them to him. “Dinner is at eight sharp. I heard you have quite the magic touch for cooking; and I'm tired of living of cigarettes and wine for now.” She turned, heading towards her quarters. “I will return once your services are needed again.”
“Ma'am, hol' up.”
She set her foot on the first step, slowly turning and looking back at him, folding her hands behind her back.
“What happens now?”
“Now,” The Administrator echoed lackadaisically. She moved her gaze away and up to the top of the stairs as she climbed them. “Now we wait.”
Engineer scratched the stubble on the curve of his jaw. It started growing, as well as his hair. He saw no use shaving it. He didn’t need to wear his helmet. His life had always been about standing up early, getting ready in seconds, minute-sleeps that were enough to suffice for a whole day, but usually, after debriefing, he always had time to tend to his important tasks. Shaving, cutting his hair, cleaning his equipment.
But that was before all of this. Now he barely had any time for himself left.
Over the last six months, Engineer watched his former employer kills and cheats in order to gain the last bits of Australium that existed. Thanks to the many blueprints his grandfather had stored, he found the maps of thousands of Australium caches spread around Australia and New Zealand. He felt sorry that he would use his grandfather’s legacy to kill innocent people who just happened to find and buy or dig out a pretty bar of gold.
But for all intents and purposes, old Radigan Conagher was nothing short of crooked himself. At least, from what she told him. When he aked her about his grandfather, she sighed and began telling him of the man Engie only knew for a short time before he passed when Engineer was just nine.
He had been the one building the life extender machines for the twins, and for her as well, as it seemed. Often he wondered if this certain 'old debt' she kept mentioning that needed to be settled had to do with the Administrator and Radigan. From what she revealed, they were close to each other. Perhaps, a bit closer than she admitted.
But she wouldn't speak a word about this ‘business’ she had to finish before kicking the bucket. He tried often, yet she kept her mouth shut.
In this large, hidden mansion of hers, she sat most of her time in her quarters, staring into dozens of screens that surveyed what once belonged to the Mann twins. Gray had not thought about removing the cameras as he stormed into Redmon's and Blutarch's territories. Leaving an ever watchful eye over what the missing brother was doing. Soon both of them realized he was looking for someone. For her. Or rather, what he thought she possessed.
“He's looking for the last cache of Australium.” she hissed under her breath.
“Ma'am?”
“Gray. He's looking for the last bit of Australium out there.”
Engineer furrowed his brows above his goggles.
“He? What does he need that stuff for anyway?”
Her talon-like nails press her cigarette down against the table. “I have no proof of the legitimacy of the information I could find, but if it true, he has a life extender machine of his own.”
“That's impossible.” the Engineer argued. “The blueprints are with me. There ain't no copies out there. There's no way he – “
“You are forgetting, Conagher – we are dealing with a genius.” she snarled. “He doesn’t need your grandfather’s schematics to build his own toys.”
Engie’s jaw set.
“If he finds the last cache of Australium, then...” Her bony hand curled into a fist. Engineer knew she was becoming weaker with each passing day, and her mood soured. He never had asked her what she needed the Australium for, since the answer was always the same – the same old 'to settle a debt' excuse. She was earnest, and determined. He knew, since he watched her orchestrate murder after murder to gain it all.
She lit another cigarette. The third one in the last five minutes. He wondered if he should tell her to stop it, why further shorten her life when she was running out of time already? He didn't. She didn't care about what he had to say, either way.
“What was it like?” she asked him then. Her voice was oddly faint and thin. It had to be the first time he heard a different emotion in her voice from the usual anger and aloofness – it was fear.
“Ma'am?”
“The robot war. What...what was it like?” she asked again, “What was it like to see these creatures, marching towards you? What was it like to see yourself, made of iron and steel? What was it like to feel this...tiny and insignificant?”
He didn’t know if she asked him this to intimidate him, and instantly felt his deep sitting anger for this woman flare up anew. He considered not answering, until an eerie notion came to his mind. He looked at her. A tinge of pity inside his stomach, because he suddenly realized she knew that if they found out where she is, she would not survive this encounter. As much as he disliked her, he would not wish her to endure the same he and the others had.
‘You have a good heart, Conagher. You’ll have to learn to lay those habits down. If you want us to survive.’
“I still dream of it every night. They're nightmares. The worst I've ever had.” he answers, truthfully.
She said nothing for a while. Strings of smoke rose from the chair she was seated on.
After a long while of silence, she pressed the cigarette into her ashtray. “I would like to be alone for now, Conagher.” she spoke. Her tone was back to the old coldness; and he was back to being a man forced to serve a woman who had blood on her fingers.
“Yer not eatin' ma'am?” he asked across the table. The old woman sighed pressing her cigarette to her thin lips.
“Not today.” she said then. She'd been doing this all day since the news of Gray Mann's plans were revealed. Just staring into the nothingness, smoking.
“Not ta tell ya what ta do ma'am, but I can't have ya collapse from undernourishment.”
“What's the worst that can happen to me, Conagher? As long as I have this here,” she lifted her forearm with the Australium infusion strapped to it, “I'm gonna live.”
The Texan stared at her for a while before he shrugged faintly, going back to twisting his fork in his pasta. Engineer had long stopped feeling awkward when there was deafening silence between them.
As beautiful as the mountains and the desert were, there was very little to fill the silence. At night he heard the chirp of crickets and the occasional howl of a coyote and by day a faint gush of wind would howl. And that was it. She spoke less, lips occupied with suckling on her tobacco sticks.
By the time the Engineer was done, brought his plate back to the kitchen and picked up a wine for her and a bottle of beer for himself, she hadn't moved, nor acknowledged him. She speechlessly took her glass of red wine and sipped on it while Engineer reclined into his own seat, watching the sun set. She was right, it was beautiful.
The clear night sky was littered with more stars than he had ever seen.
He grew used to this life. Used to the constant sitting around, waiting for her instructions. It didn't last long until the infusion gave a soft 'click'. The administrator growled under her breath. Her long nails dug into the cushion of her chair, her wild pale eyes growing bloodshot at the rims. She was in pain, he knew it. The withdrawal of Australium led to a quick aging process – and she was already fragile as it was.
Engineer quickly got up on his feet, hand slipping into his pocket. He drew out a small phial of liquid gold.
“It's fine, Ma'am. Yer fine.” he muttered a soft encouragement to the woman as he flicked the old phial out of the mark four infusion and inserted the new one. The administrator stiffened for a moment as new Australium coursed into her veins. She drew in a deep breath, and once she exhaled, she looked much, much better at once. Younger, alert, her eyes no more watery and pale, but glowing with regained strength.
Engineer knew these effects lasted for a mere thirty minutes, if she was lucky, before she would age once more. But often times, he looked at the image of a younger, dark haired woman who looked like she had seen the worst the world could offer at her age. She cleared her throat and downed her glass of wine.
“How many are left?” she asked with a faint, less raspy voice.
“Four, Ma'am.”
She nodded stiffly. Her empty hand clenching into a fist. Her brows knitted together. Once more, there was a long stretch of silence that was filled with Engineer discarding the phial.
“Don't fret. Yer still have some time left. Ten months, maybe a year or two. If we keep it rationed, we can keep yer alive fer sure. If yer willin' ta give up on a few –”
“No.” She said sternly. “I won't give up on anything, Conagher.”
“Well I'm jus' sayin'. It's an option yer gotta consider at some point.”
“I have come this far and I will not face this debt as a living corpse, strapped to a chair on wheels and kept alive by a machine like the goddamn Mann’s were. I will not let that happen at any costs!”
The glass in her hand splintered.
“Ma'am!” The Engineer quickly jumped to her side, picking up the cotton handkerchief and brushed off wine from her hand. A faint trail of blood ran down a diagonal cut on the palm of her hand. It stained the neat, white table sheet beneath her in red. In the light, it glowed in a faint golden gleam.
“Ma'am, I still don't know what debt that is ya babblin' on about fer months, but ah can't have ya waste precious Australium, ya hearin' me? Yer runnin' out of time here.”
She gave a hiss. Like a serpent giving a warning tone at the eagle zooming in on her, like a cornered animal growling at the threat ahead. She paused, then glared at him. “Meet me in the laboratory,” she muttered and stood, leaving her meal nearly untouched.
He climbed down the long set of stairs down into the lowest level of the mansion. There she sat, her arm placed on a paper towel, shed of her coat and a cigarette between her fingers.
“So. What ya called me in for?”
“I want you to upgrade the infusion machine.”
“Well, Ma'am, I'd say this is the highest the thing can go.”
“Then at least try it, Mister Conagher.” she hissed. “I need this thing to save up on the Australium. I can't have it take more than it already does.”
The Engineer stared at the infusion machine. “Damn, that thing's in there, alright. Tell you what, we gonna put you under so I can –“
“Just do it.”
“I uh...well – look, this is gonna hurt ma'am.”
“Mister Conagher.” her voice was tense and low. “I haven't felt anything in a long time.”
Engineer knitted his brows together. “Well...suit yerself. Let's get this lil' number out.” he muttered, grabbed the infusion machine and tugged on it. The infusion tubes slipped from her veins slowly, and she barely even flinched. Without hesitation, he got to work. The thing was small, but he had handled smaller practical problems. Like the gunslinger. Like his and Soldier's project...Their project...
He blinked hard, regaining his sense of the present again, and continued. “Alright, there she is...” he said, placing the new infusion box, tube by tube, into her veins. “The mark five. Now she'll run lean. Probably a quarter of what the mark four was gobblin' up. But...” he sighed. “I know ya ain't wanna hear it. But we're jus' kickin' the can down the road here. If it runs out...well... “
“Not anymore,” the woman said slowly. “Not necessarily.”
“Ma'am?”
“Mister Conagher, I want you to send out a letter to Miss Pauling.”
“Miss Pauling? Why?” the man asked.
“There is a chance for the last cache of Australium to be mine. With this, I might live long enough. But we have to be quick. If Gray is after it as well, for whatever reason, he has a great advantage that we can balance out.”
“What ya suggestin'?” Engineer frowned.
She held her head high as she dictated him the coordinates he should send the message to. He did, although without asking questions. Though he did have about an idea what she was planning to do, and it left a very, very bitter taste in his mouth.
Assemble the team.
He thrashes in his sleep. Cold sweat on his forehead. His body quaking with violent shudders. Bright round floodlights cast down on him, his eyes burned and watered but he can't close them, can't face death with shut eyes. And the Gloiath above him is death, it is death incarnate. It, the machine with the features of a man he knows. The Goliath Heavy Robot closed its fist around his body, picked him up with laughable ease.
Air didn't pass through his lungs anymore. He feels those iron digits clench slowly around his body. And then it speaks. Death speaks in its cold, icy, rattling, iron and dead tone:
“I WILL SQUASH YOU LIKE BUG!“
He feels his ribs give in. He feels them break, one for one, crack, crack, crack, inside his body, the pain makes him deaf and blind and he doesn't hear his screams. Only the rattling of machines, the hissing hydraulics of metallic fingers closing around his body. Then he feels his arms snap. They snap like toothpicks in its torturous grip. He's dying. He'd died endless deaths by these creatures' hands, but this one. This one feels like it's going on forever.
“Blamo!!”
He blinks. He blinks again. He blinks three times before he realizes the grip around him loosened abruptly, and he falls back into the Giants flat palm. Groaning, he rolls on the cold metallic surface, his right arm burning like fire and his ribs throbbing inside him. He looks up, just in time to see something flash before the giant Heavy's eyes.
Something blue, tiny compared to the giant robot. Then a loud crash, an explosion. The robot cried a deep, tinny cry of anger and tumbles backwards, with Engineer quickly wrapping himself around one of its giant fingers. Another loud 'boom'. Engineer felt the wind whip harshly into his face and around his ears as he was flung back and forth.
“I'll kick your ass back to the bronze age!!” A voice echoed loudly through the night.
“Soldier...?” Engineer breathed out. The giant metal Heavy stumbled, but regained its balance. The Goliath roared in anger at the tiny man standing before him. His jacket was burnt at several sports, dirt and mutt caked his pants and his face. This was...this shouldn't happen. Why was he here? He never appeared in his dreams to come and rescue him – yet here he was. And in horror Engineer watched the crazed military man as he threw his rocket launcher aside, cracked his knuckles, and growled back.
“You think I'm trapped here with you giant pile of filthy junk? You are all trapped in here with me!” Soldier tore the grenades from his bandolier, and pushed the rings out with his thumb. Screaming out a passionate war cry, the man began running towards them, grenades in hand. He wouldn't – would he?!
Engineer felt his throat tighten, opened his mouth to cry out to him to run away, to not do it. But no words came out. He saw a bright light, the deafening pulse of an explosion – and his eyes tore open in horror.
He sat up, gasping for air. For several moments, he blinked hard against the darkness, trying to map out where he was, what place this was – if all his limbs were still on him, and his arm was not broken. Finally, the surroundings became familiar to his wild, agitated mind. Gulping down a calming breath, he closed his eyes, slowly exhaled. Opened them again, looked down at the clock next to his bed.
It's three in the morning. Engineer groaned softly, as he rubbed his hand over his face. Sleep, he knew, would not come back now. As many nights before, he sits at a small table in front of the large window, sipping on a cup of watery coffee. Great. Not only would he now dream about himself dying in every way imaginable – now he dreamt of Soldier dying in every way imaginable as well. When he goes to bed that day, he prays quietly for just one night of dreamless sleep. Just one, darnit! Just give me one restful night and I swear, I’ll never ask anything of you again, he promised to whatever deity sat up there in the clouds.
But yet again, he dreamed of Soldier, soaring through the clouded night sky, shooting rockets at the giants in rapid succession, hollering and screaming, throwing colorful curses and insults at them that would even make his old Uncle 'Potty-Mouth Jones' blanch.
“YOU WILL DROP MY ENGINEER AT ONCE, YOU RUSTY TUNA CAN!” He barked, sinking the blade of his shovel deep into the skull of the robot. Those two gray floodlight eyes flickered, then turned stale, its body collapsing like a chopped off tree. And he would wake up again, and again, panting, sweat on his forehead and his heart beating like an industrial machine.
Then he would sit at the small table at the large window, staring out into the rocks and canyons as he watched the sun flood the rocks with yellow and orange lights. When he had told the Administrator about the mercs not being able to survive being laid off, he knew Soldier was one of them, second only to Medic.
His good ol' Solly. Maybe he went back to the military. Maybe he found himself another job that suited his, well, explosive character. Or maybe he found himself a pretty lady, with a litter of little Soldier juniors running around now.
His heart clenched at the idea. But it clenched even more, knowing the life of a civilian was probably Soldier’s doom. The man was made to kill, not to live a normal, everyman’s-day life. He can barely write. Fuck.
Engie genuinely feared the man had already managed to end up in prison, or messed with the wrong crowd of people. What if he gotten himself hurt, or worse – killed?
He donated all of his money to Teufort shelters. Fuck!
He clenches his fists and fights the bout of anxiety beginning to simmer inside his chest.
I need to lay off on the coffee this early, he things.
Engineer was genuinely surprised from which corner of the world Miss Pauling picked up the mercenaries.
Tom Jones' mansion, from a giant office building, the far icy lands of Siberia, prison even. He was glad to hear it actually wasn't Soldier in said prison, but to his general surprise, Scout and Spy. At the end of the month, Pauling had gathered all of them, even an 'addition' to the team. Heavy's eldest sister, Zhanna.
It was …interesting to see the RED Soldier had found himself someone that was just as bat-shit insane as he was. Good for them, he thinks. But all he can see when he glances at the screen is his Solly, his blue Soldier-boy.
He wondered if his Soldier was happy with someone else, someone like her. While he was here, watching from afar.
Either way, Engineer noticed two missing people – RED Medic and RED Engineer.
The Administrator was getting antsy.
“She's running out of time.” she muttered to herself, and stood then. “I would like to be taken to my private chambers.” She said a tad louder and Engineer took her there, not yet sure what she was planning to do.
“Yer goin' out?” he asked. She was roaming her closet, pushing jackets and coats aside until she picked out a heavy fur overcoat, and a large purple hat on top.
“I have to catch up on her. Send her a message to meet me at the alley, middle of the 7th and main. At noon.”
“Err, sure. Sure, ma'am.” he said, and quickly went to the fax machine. Then he came to a stop. “Ma'am?” he turned around. “Listen, I – I would really appreciate if I could come wi – “
“You will not leave this building, Conagher.” she growled.
“If there's anythin' happenin' to ya, then I wouldn't know how ta catch up with ya in time,” he tried to reason with her. “Lemme come with ya. I'll protect ya.”
“If there is anything happening to you, this whole operation will go down the drain.” she snapped back, pushing the hat further over her head.
“Ain't nothin' out there I couldn't handle.”
“You haven't met the thugs Gray hired to be fighting the mercenaries, Conagher.”
Engineer frowned at her in confusion. “Thugs, Ma'am?” he asked.
She gave a harsh sigh. “We are being hunted. They are being hunted. I can't have you be kidnapped by them and squeezed out for answers, Conagher. I still need you. Alive.” And with that, she turned and left.
The silence that followed was deafening. Engie felt it for a while now, but now, as he had watched her storm off, he let the notion manifest in his mind. This was a pointless endeavor.
He didn't want to tell her of course, but somehow he had an inkling.
There was no Australium left, surely. And even if so, it was already too late. Maybe, he didn't have to tell her at all. Maybe she knew this herself.
Now that she was gone, it left him time to actually do something again he hadn't done in a while - tinkering. He sat in his room, just fumbling around with a few gadgets and trinkets he found around the mansion and scraps the administrator issued to upgrade her infusion generator. Which inevitably made him think about the dreams he lately had.
For some reason his usual nightmares, as well as his dreams, were always invaded by Soldier. Soldier saving him, soldier popping up in between, Soldier sometimes evening ruining some really interesting things happening. Not that he minded it much, he really didn't want to go back to waking up in the middle of the night after being squished or beaten to death by robots. It was really an enigma how Soldier even managed to save him even if he wasn't there. Even in his dreams he was still there, saving his ass.
And while he used to fear his dreams, he now felt like they brought him a bit closer to filling that strange hollow spot inside him, that spot that yearned for friendship. He missed Pyro. He missed Medic. He missed talking to them, missed playing poker with Demo and Heavy and Sniper, missed Scout’s stupid rants about baseball and Demo's slurring and Soldier’s booming voice– Heck, he even missed the damn Spook! He couldn’t really believe it – but he also missed being out there, in the battlefield. Not fighting against robots, mind you, but fighting RED.
He had no idea what his team was doing out there. If they all still existed.
Then, as if to torture him further, his dreams melted from angry war-ridden lands to the base, to early mornings with the scent of bacon and scrambled eggs in the air. To familiar faces, smiling at him, waving at him. He dreams about late evenings at the camp fire, guitar in hand, Pyro and Scout cooking S’mores on the open flame and Demo’s attempts at singing along with Engie’s melody.
Of large arms, holding him close, calloused fingers touching him and chapped lips against his own, the scent of gunpowder and leather lingering in his nose when he wakes up. He either awakens from these dreams hard as a rock, or feeling like he wanted to bawl.
Not even the darn radio helped when he turned it on during his wait for the sun to rise. Guitars and harmonicas blaring in his ear in heart-wrenching tunes, and soft gentle voices singing.
Hey please baby come back
There'll be no more loving attack
And I'll be keeping it cool tonight
That four letter word is out of my head
Come on around, get back in my bed
Keep making me feel alright
For what it's worth I love you...
He had denied it for a while, and in doing so, had waited too long. Now I can’t go back to tell him, he realized. It had to have started when they had fallen into that Gorge. And from there on, it grew, and grew, and he never acknowledged it – until he couldn’t deny it any longer. He had his chance back then, all the way through the gravel war, and all the way through the Machine war.
These feelings…they went beyond just comradery. Just beyond friendship.
Darn.
He heard a noise behind the shut door that made him halt and listen. Just exiting the bathroom after trimming his beard, he had heard something coming from the Administrator’s office, something that sounded….alarming. He heard a set of voices. They sounded male. Talking. Someone was having a very loud conversation with another person. That other person was female. Shuffling. Then someone cried out in pain.
Engineer felt his heart drop all the way down into his feet. Fear shot into his bones like cold ice, and his legs began moving. Rushing up the staircase, he barged into the Administrators office, not bothering to knock, gun in hand. If there was an infiltrator in there -!
“Ma'am!! Are you alright –?” he panted. But to his surprise, the room seemed untouched. Empty. He looked around, and found no traces of intrusion or a fight happening in here.
The noises he had heard just then did not come from the room itself. Instead, many dozens little screens flashed into his view. Blinking, he watched from a birds-eye view as a heavy-set woman walked before a man, tied to a chair. She was wiping her gloved hands on her gray camouflaged suit.
Engineer squinted. Who…was that? Why was she dressed like a Pyro? Half of her face was burnt. The other was the face of an old lady, white short hair, and thick lipstick on her face. Even though he was raised to respect the elderly, he couldn't help it – she looked diabolical. Evilness glinted in her eye.
Closing her gloved fist around the collar of the tied down man, she hissed at him: “Where... is... the Administrator?”
“Oh for – I don't even know the answer to that one.” the person in the chair snarled. “Only Miss Pauling knows that! Ask me something I do know!”
“Soldier?” he heard himself whisper. His guts suddenly clenched hard. The old lady hmm’ed with feigned interest, turning around and fumbling with some tools.
“This imbecile!” A voice snarled from behind the tall armchair. The Engineer winced, not expecting someone else to be with him in the room. “This birdbrained imbecile!!”
“What in tarnation's happenin' here?” Engineer stammered, walking close to the armchair. The Administrator looked furious, cigarette clenched between bony fingers, her other nails scraping along the table top.
She stared at the screens above her, grinding his teeth. “They found out. About the operation. And that I am giving them instructions behind the scenes. They were taken as hostages.”
“Wh-What? But how-- When – who are these people?"
“These are the goons I have told you about, Mister Conagher. The ones Gray hired. They were the mercenaries before your period.”
“This one right there,” Engineer said. “She's a pyro, ain't she?”
But his question was left unanswered. Her voice echoed through the speakers.
“So. Miss Pauling knows.” The Pyro concluded.
“I--” the RED Soldier stammered. Paused. Then continued with a stern voice: “You gonna have to torture that out of me.”
“Torture,” the Pyro drawled in a devilishly sadistic tone, “Implies that you still have something I need.”
And all of the sudden, a loud, buzzing tone began filling the room. Engineer finally recognized the gadget the woman had been toying around with previously – a drill. She stepped closer to him, then grabbed the man by the face, prying his jaw apart. RED Soldier began struggling against her fingers digging into his face.
“This,” she continued. “Is just me killing you slowly.”
The sound of Soldier's pained yelling echoed through the speakers and straight into his insides.
Engineer instantly felt sick to his stomach. Dread gripped him by the throat, so hard he forgot to breathe and forgot to blink, and frozen there to the spot he watched as the Pyro pressed the drill against the man's teeth. The sounds of agonizing pain coupled with the sickening sound of 'vzzz', digging through teeth, flesh and bone, made Engineer see stars.
Keep it together, Conagher, he chided himself. This is the RED one. Not your Solly. Not your good ol’ Solly -
He blinked, and the room in front of him blurred into the dark plane of the battlefield. It was nightfall. It was dark. And cold. Rain splattered against his face, hard and fast. It hurt. Everything hurt. His body was on fire. His insides clenched, pressed together, tearing apart inside him. His bones shattering. He screams, and his eyes open as water shot from them in pain.
Two giant lights stare back at him. Two eyes, cold, heartless. Soulless. Cold digits tightening steadily around his body, not stopping, not giving in, he felt himself breaking apart bone by bone.
He'd died endless deaths by these creatures' hands, but this one. This one feels like it's going on forever.
Vzzz. Vzzz.
“Mister Conagher.”
Engineer tore his eyes open. The rain was gone. The robots were gone. The immobilizing stiffness in his body lingered. So did the buzzing. And the screaming.
The tinkerer heard himself breathe harsh and loud. His throat was dry and scratchy and his heart pounding. The Administrator studied him with a raised brow. Like Engineer’s sudden spell of utter absent-mindedness was an inconvenience rather than a concern to her.
Vzzz. The sound was driving Dell insane. He turned away.
“Make it stop.” he whispered. “I can't – I can't watch this anymore, Ma'am. I jus' – please. ”
The Administrator stared at him for a moment or two; then leaned back in her seat. “No.” she answered.
His eyes widened as he stared back at the old woman in her chair. Her gaze, emotionless, fixed to the screen. Watching an employee of hers getting tortured before her very eyes, not saying, not showing – not feeling anything.
"What...?” he whispered in bafflement.
“He said too much.” she explained in a voice as if she found it straining to explain the obvious. “Better get rid of him now before he speaks more.”
Engineer had never lain a hand on a woman. The urge to do it now was overwhelming.
“You can’t do that,” he whispered.
“I can and I will,” she retorted coldly.
“He's yer mercenary! He fought for you!”
“And he shall die for me, as well.” she said, bluntly. Giving him a side glance, she glared at him. “No intervention.”
He was suddenly up on his feet. To long strides, he was at her side. One swift swing of his arm, and his fingers closed around the woman's scrawny throat. The administrator flinched against his grip, then her body grew stiff with sudden alarm. She made a gagging noise against his knuckles digging into her pipeline. Grey eyes searched wildly around his face as he effortlessly lifted her body nearly out of the chair.
“Listen ta me, ya old, tottery snake!” he spat. “I've been workin’ mahself to the bone fer you every day ta keep ya alive and goin'! I watched you kill people, women, children --!!”
His fingers tightened around her throat even more. One bony hand clung to his larger, calloused fingers, digging and clawing at it desperately to get air back into her lungs. She was gasping for air like an old wrinkly fish out of water. "It's enough!! Make it stop! NOW!! Or I swear on every Conagher's grave, I will – !!”
The fist came flying into his face. The impact was surreal. It send the Engineer hauling away from her like a sudden pulse of inhuman strength. Something had shattered. Glass. His body collided with the wall and he slumped down to the ground, the air knocked out of his lungs. His left eye was blurry. He blinked until he realized one panel of his goggles had shattered and fallen apart. Alarmed, he looked up. Her hand was still raised. Her eyes gleamed in the shadows of the room. Golden. How was this possible? How did she – ?
The Australium. He didn't know just how much strength was truly in this woman now, after injecting herself with it for nearly a century.
Engineer heard a sudden crash. When he looked at the screen, he saw that Zhanna had torn herself free from her shackles and dumped a grenade into the Pyro's suit. It detonated with a loud BWAM, the suit blowing up like a hot air balloon, exploding in fine red mist. Exhausted, missing one hand, she slumped before RED Soldier, untied him, and wrapped her arms around him.
“Moj radnój!“ she cried, holding his face in her hand, her forehead pressed to his as she peppered his bloodied and bruised face with kisses. “Moj ljubímyj!”
Swallowing to keep his throat from clogging up completely, Engineer finally sat himself back up on his feet. His legs were shaking and he grabbed the wall to steady himself, then tugged his broken goggles down around his neck. He just noticed a cut on his eyebrow, bleeding down his face. Her iron lighter flicked. She dragged in a deep breath of smoke, and released it. His eyes caught the sight of her knuckles, bloodied yet unharmed from any damage the blow might have dealt.
“You have your wish, Conagher.” she spoke. Her voice was as icy as Engineer had ever heard it. “He will live. For now.”
“Ma'am...” he uttered.
A bony hand lifted from behind the large armchair to indicate him to stop speaking.
"You are not your grandfather, Conagher. That is a regrettable feature about you." she said, and sighed. "Remembver what i said to you about having a good heart, Conagher?"
She hates people with good hearts.
"Ma'am." he squinted at the TV screen in the upper left corner. Something happened there, a commotion, blood. It was Grey Mann. From his back, wires, blood mixed with gold was flowing freely from a huge gash in his back. Lungs, intestines, and other mush of insides pouring out and over the floor. The Administrator lifted her head and followed his glance. There was no shift of demeanor in her. Her eyes simply stared at the corpse like one considered the back of a book.
"One problem less," she concluded.
“The last bit of Australium.” he said “Where did it go?”
“The leader of the thugs took it.” the Administrator hissed. “If the mercs are fast, they might – “ She paused then. Took a long draw from her cigarette, then dropped it in an ashtray next to her.
“Ma'am.” he spoke. She didn't answer. Instead, she took in a deep breath.
“They will fail,” she muttered
“Ma'am, don't say that. They've come so far, and they've endured worse after all.”
“Yes. Yes, they did.” the administrator agreed silently. “They endured their time fighting for me. Fighting for those useless brothers. I should have let them be killed long ago, just so they won't have to waste my time further.” Her bony finger pressed a few buttons on the control panel. The screens turned dark at once, with nothing left but the reflection of her old, withered face, pale eyes stony and cold.
“Please excuse me now, Mister Conagher. I would like to spend some time alone."
"Ma'am, I don't wanna pry, but you -"
"Alone, Conagher. Please. I still have enough life in me to do what you failed to do just now.” she threatened. Engineer's shoulders slumped. He understood.
He holds it together until he’s in his workshop. Then, the waterworks start flowing freely, and he doesn’t have the power to stop it. He collapses in the chair, burying his face in the crook of his arm. “Jus' look at this fine mess I'm in, Sal.” he shook his head with the faintest bitter smile on his face. “If'n ye were here, ya'd probably risk yer neck ta pry me outta this shitshow, wouldn'cha?”
The radio hums softly in his direction. He grabs it and lets it shatter against the wall. It felt like hours when his eyes finally ran dry again. He takes in deep, steeling breaths. It’s fine, Conagher. All is gonna work out fine. The Administrator still has two phials of Australium. Nothing’s lost yet.
Sudden dread rose inside him. Two? No. That couldn't be, he was sure he had more somewhere. They couldn't have...?He searched around the workshop, opened every cabinet and drawer he believed could still contain at least one, maybe two more.
It hit him. Time was running out. Quickly.
“Where ever ya are right now ya damn Yankee – ah hope ya save.” He dumped both into his pocket, then quickly left his workshop. He had to make a call. Pressing some button on the wireless telephone, he punched the numbers in and held it to his ear. Come on. Pick up. Pick up!
“Administrator! Helen! It's Pauling. I'm here.” she panted into the receiver.
“H'lo Miss Pauling.”
“Engie?!” She asked. “Where have you been? Where are you?”
“Well now, I can't say where I am. But I am with her. And I hate ta put a rush on it, but – “ he turned to look at the closed door of her office. “But I'm gonna need that Australium y'all were lookin' for.”
“Engie, it's gone. The Australia cache, the New Zealand cache, it's...Well it's sort of in space too. I'm sorry.”
Engineer's stomach turned. He sighed, letting his head fall into his free hand. “Oh man. This is bad.”
She gave a stressed sigh from the other end. “Yeah I know, look - it's my fault. Just put her on, I'll give her the bad news.”
Engineer gave a knock on the door. “Ma'am. Ah need ya to – “ he opened the door. Finding her lifelessly in her seat. Frozen in her movement and her eyes slowly rolling back into her skull. “Ah, shucks.” he hissed. “Well, she can't come to the phone right now. She's...dead.”
“Wait, what?!”
“I'll have her call ya back.” he muttered, then quickly pressed the button to end the call.
The last few hours have been tense. Tense, to say the least. All they did now was sit in the main hall, staring out the window, watching the dusty hills and treeless planes. Engineer brewed two cups of coffee, waiting for the inevitable 'tick' of the mark five. Once it came, the sun was setting.
“How long?” the Administrator asked. Her voice tired, raspy. Lacking the sharp tone she usually had. He believed she simply had given up wasting energy on sounding more intimidating than she already did.
He pushed the sleeve of his shirt aside, looking down on his watch. “'Bout four hours this time.” he said. “Talked to Miss Pauling some hours ago. The New Zealand cache is gone.” Wiping down his hand and his glove, he waited for a reaction. None came.
“How much do we have left?” she asks.
“Uh, well...” he pulled out the last phial. “This here's the last bit of Australium on earth, Ma'am.”
Her eyes fixed onto him with sudden, newfound ire. “No!” She hissed, forcing herself to stand. “No that's unacceptable. We'll simply have to find more!”
“Ma'am, there is no more.” he retorted.
He watched the woman staggering towards the window, hands reaching out and holding herself against the glass. “There is always more, Mister Conagher. We just have to find it.”
“I don't think you're hearin' me, Ma'am.” Engineer's brows knitted. “Not this time. It's gone.”
The sound of sharp nails running across the glass made the Texan flinch.
“Shut – UP!!”
CRASH!
A spider web of cracks spread along the panel. Blood dripped down from her knuckles. Her dainty shoulders lifted and lowered themselves with each deep, heavy breath she took. Engineer didn't know if he should come to her aid, or console her or...he just didn't know. She held her bleeding hand.
“Mister Conagher. Would you escort me to my private quarters, please?”
“Of course, Ma'am.”
Helping her up the stairs, he brought her up to the large door, pushing it open, and leading her inside. He had never been in here. It was big. Much too big for a single person, and even with two, it was more than enough room. It was sparsely filled with furniture as well, a single large wardrobe, a king-sized bed. Large, intricate paintings and pictures hanging on the wall, some other gadgets and very expensive trinkets he knew she would never have any use for.
It was cold. Very cold, despite the warmth outside, and the fluorescing, silver lights did not give the room any form of homeliness. It looked like just another large room with an attempt at making it look like a home. She let go of his supportive hand to shuffle to the wardrobe. Engineer carried his cup of coffee over to the large balcony, watching the sky turn from orange-pink to dark blue. The stars sparkled down on him.
“Ma'am, I…I know this ain't easy.” he sighed. “But with the mark five, this much could still getcha five, six months of life.”
“It's not just for me.” the Administrator said, pushing coat-hangers aside.
“Right, that 'old debt' you've been settlin'. Ya think maybe it's time ya'd be tellin' me about that? Mah family's been workin' fer you for...well a long damn time. Ya never told me and I never asked.”
She stayed quiet, the sound of her rummaging through her closet got louder and forced almost.
"I'm sorry that whatever you were tryin' to accomplish here, ya didn't get to. I truly am. But Ma'am – it's over.”
Finally he heard her stop, and let out a long breath. “No. You're right.” she finally said. “I've tried to keep this going as long as I could. I...I even thought I was done, once.”
The tinkerer turned to her with an expression of pity. She was holding a dark coat in her hands, brushing dust and lints off of the fabric. “You were right, Conagher. There’s blood on my hands. I should have stayed out of this godforsaken gravel war. I should have simply let the twins throttle each other, and put an end to this, long ago.”
“Heh, well – I wouldn't be workin' fer you then. Wouldn't make some good money outta this job either.” Engineer shrugged, sipping on his cup.
“Whatever motivation drives you and your colleagues – money, power, control – it’s all the same for me. If I wasn’t tied to this position, god knows what I would be doing. Not living, for one.” She pulled out the phial of Australium. “I still crave it. As much as I did when I was a little girl. I don't think I'll ever stop wanting it. It's become everything.”
Engineer stared off into the sunset. Her words left quite the powerful aftertaste on him. He never had a true taste of Australium, and knowing it could be such an unpredictable substance, he was glad he never had. He wasn't keen on being dependent on it, especially now that all of it was gone.
“But you are right. It's over. And if I'm going to call and end to it all, well...Why not look my best?”
Engineer turned around – and dropped his mug. It slipped from his fingers and crashed into thousand pieces on the floor. Staring back at him was...her. Her, but so much younger. Clad in a dark, old-fashioned dress and coat. Her black hair flowing down her shoulder. Wrinkles and blemishes gone, replaced with a soft, yet stern feminine face. Her eyes glowing like cat’s eyes from the overdose of Australium.
“You used all of it?!” Engineer stammered. “ Ma'am! Y-You jus' cut yaself down from six months to an hour. If you're lucky!”
“More than enough time.” She retorted with a voice clear as water. “Let's end this. Once and for all.”
Engineer watched as she turned and headed for the door. “I want you to stay here, Conagher. What I am about to do, I wish nobody knows of. Especially not you.”
“What – what are ya plannin'? I can't let ya go on ya own.” he quickly jogged after her. “If the mark five malfunctions, yer done.”
“One hour left, remember Conagher. I’ll have enough time and strength to settle this on my own.” Holding the door open for a bit longer, she looked back at him over a pointy shoulder. “I have one final request, Conagher. Once this is over, Miss Pauling will meet you here. Once this happens, take the keys on my office table, and give them to her. She will know what to do.”
He nodded.
“Good. Thank you.” She said. “For everything.” Then, she let her fingers slip from the iron door, and let it snap close.
Engineer stared back at the closed gate for a little while longer before he snapped out of it, turned, and stared off back into the last remains of sunshine left for the evening. It was still as beautiful as it was the first time he saw it.
She was wrong. He had never grown tired of the sight.
Chapter 12: Reuniting
Chapter Text
A month later
“Gott im Himmel!” The Medic whined as he stepped into the room. “My lab! My precious lab! My equipment! Zhey used it as a storage room for robot corpses! Zhat's just – it's fantastic!”
“Hrrm.” Heavy rumbled into the unlit room. “Thought we've seen last of dem.”
“Last of zhem? Heavy, mein Liebster, we are in luck! Just look at zhis, look at zhe craftsmanship! I've never had zhe chance to carry one back home from zhe battle, and now zhere is one, right here! Build from my own equipment! Look, look, my medisaw! Its zhe jaw of zhis Heavy robot! Hahahaa!”
“Funny.” Heavy agreed, not making a face. The Medic took in a deep breath, and exhaled, a smile stretching over his face. “I am so glad to be home again. Aren't you too? Back vizh zhe team, back in zhe base?”
“Dha.” Heavy nodded, letting his glance wander around the abandoned lab. Ruined, and empty, nothing but the cold tiles left, the rest was scrapped and put into the production of robot, and the space was filled with crates of weaponry and ammunition. “Brings back bad memories, too.”
“Ja, I know. But it's in zhe past now, isn't it?” Heavy?”
Heavy stepped towards one of the many crates and opens the lid. Anger was threatening to spill over him. He hoped doing something with his hands would distract him. But looking inside, as his eyes fall on something white and feather and most definitely not alive anymore, it made everything just worse. He let out a deep guttural growl and his hand curled.
“Heavy? Was ist los? ”
“Did thugs mistreat you badly?”
“Huh?”
“Did dhey hurt doktor?”
“Ah...” Medic scratched his collar. “Zhey weren't as nice as zhe team, no. But – But zhey did not hurt me. Not often. Threatened me lots. And, vell, zhey shot me. Once. I-I believe you were present at zhat. “
Heavy had lowered two hands into the crate he had opened. And once he lifted them again, something lay in his large hand. Something white, and soft. And something very lifeless.
“Oh.” Medic's eyes grew big at the sight. Then, his face fell. “Oh...”
“Doktor. “ Heavy's voice was softer than usually.
The Medic eyes looked down at the dead doves in his friend’s hand, wordlessly. His doves that used to flutter around his laboratory and his room, the ones that cooed him to sleep and sometimes attempted to build nests on his hair. Many strange emotions reflected on his face. Attempting to fight woe and anger at once, it contoured into a forced smile.
“Are zhey...all in zhere?” he looked at the box. Heavy nodded slowly.
“Gut. Zhat's gut. I- I'll just – L-Let me... “
“Doktor. ”
“It's fine. I can – I just need to know if –“ He approached slowly, bright eyes focused on the Heavy's hand. “Is it...is it Archimedes?” he asked.
“Dha.” Heavy said.
Medic's body went rigid, and he took in a sharp, unsteady breath. Wetness filled his eyes, threatening to spill. Chewing on his lip, the Medic looked away, gave a short, empty laughter, hand rubbing at his cheek.
“I-I didn't zhink zhey – zhey vould...He killed him before, you know. Just grabbed his little body and – and broke it.“
And then Medic's face changed, lit up back into enthusiasm. “Heavy, grab one of zhe robots! Ve can resurrect him!”
“You can? How?”
“I just need zhe defibrillators zhey used for the kneecaps and a power source and – and I need someone who knows how to dismantle robots!”
“Good.” Heavy nodded, cradling little Archimedes in his hand and a robot under his arm, and together, they marched through the corridor.
“Oh jeez, there are more of these here?!” Scout, rummaging through boxes and crates with Pyro on the search for their respective stuff, shrieked at the sight of his robot counterpart. “I thought we beat'em up for good!”
“Mmhphm!” Pyro agreed, fumbling for a match in their pockets.
“Nein, ve need zhis one! No one touch zhe robot! Engie! Has someone seen our Engie?”
They rounded the corner into the common room, or what the common room used to be. As for now, it was just yet another storage room. Their entire base was basically used as nothing but space to dump trash and rations and weaponry in. Demo was helping Sniper stag the boxes and crates carefully to free the way into the kitchen and mess hall.
“Mongrels didn't even know how ta use a weapon. I swear, hadn't I been there, they'd have lost ta a bunch'a emus. Ta buggerin' emus.”
Demo gave out a boisterous laughter, but was cut short as Medic rushed past him and Heavy nearly knocking both mercs over. “Oy!! Can ya nae see were warkin' here?! Watch were ye treadin,' pork pie!”
Despite his height and weight combined, Heavy had wheeled around and towered over the scotsman with a death-stare that made the bravest man pee his undies. “Och, I'm jookin', jis' jookin'!”
Crikey, careful with that there!” Sniper winced back as Heavy's massive body flung the robot in his arm around the room, threatening to knock over the neatly stacked towers of boxes. Medic peeked from behind the corner.
“Demo, good to see you! You as vell Sniper – say, has any of you seen zhe Engie?”
“Engie?” Sniper echoed as if the didn't even know the word existed. “Thought the egghead had left fer good.”
“Left? Has he not read zhe notice Miss Pauling sent out.”
Both looked at each other, and shrugged. “Been off the radar for a good while anyway, isn't he?”
“ Heard he's dead.”
“Dead?!” Medic blanched. “Vhat do you mean, dead?”
“The hell ye think I mean with dead?” Demo rolled his eye. “Dead. Kicked the boocket, bite the doost, pooshin' oop daisies --”
“Enough!” Medic growled. “I meant how!”
“Miss Pauling found his workshop upsoide down, b'fore she sent us into unemployment. Looked loike a bloody bomb crashed into that. And well, he's been missing since.”
Could it really be true? Him? Dead? How? And why? And when?
“Doktor, it's fine. Ve find odher vay to revive burd.” Heavy said carefully. “We find odher engineer.”
“Ach, zhis just means so much more papervork and sending out applications and zhe administra-- err. I meant – guh, you see vhat I mean? Ve can't have a missing team member now.”
“Gentleman, do not vorry.” A voice echoed from behind the Heavy. The scent of smoke and cologne suddenly filled the air, and the slender figure of the Spy squeezed past Heavy's large biceps. “I have a feeling he'll back fasteur zan you think.” Another shared look of confusion.
“Yae knoow where he's at?”
“Oiu, bien sûr.”
“How? Vhere? Vhen?”
“His car is in ze parking lot outside.”
“Oh.”
He had believed he would feel much, much better once he was out of the entire affair with the administrator, and being kept in her mansion up in that mountain in the absolute nowhere. He was positive once this was all over, and he could once again communicate with other people aside from the administrator, he would be able to forgive and forget. But he honestly had not believed fate would bring him back to this place he had called his home for more than five years, suitcases in his hand, a lump in his throat.
Just like the first time he saw the base, the first time he realized this was going to be his life, with a group of men he hadn't met before in an environment and battle he only heard of from his father and his father's father. Just as she had told him, Engineer waited in the large abandoned mansion for an hour precisely as Miss Pauling rushed through the door. She looked pale. Her hair a mess and her glasses shattered on one side. She gulped in breaths of air, her green eyes staring back at him for several seconds before she realized who she had found.
“Engie. You're here.” She breathed, relieved. “We thought you died.”
“Been here fer a while. Where's the Administrator?”
Miss Pauling's eyebrows knitted together instantly. “She's...”
She didn't speak further, because she, and he knew, equally, that her demise had been inevitable.
“How did she die?”
Miss Pauling shook at the bluntness. “She's...she settled that old debt she talked about. Let's keep it at that.”
“Yeah. Might be fer the best.”
“Engie, I – did she – did she say anything to you? Anything about what was going to happen now?”
“Happen now? I'm...not followin'?”
“She didn't...?” Miss Pauling concluded with her eyes wide. She quickly changed her demeanor. “Then – I might not tell you.”
“You're not going ta tell me what?”
She stayed silent, hands fidgeting. He wished he could have controlled herself, and not further spook her than she already was. But with two long strides he was before her, his large hands grabbing her dainty shoulders and shaking her. “Miss Pauling, I've been kept a prisoner in this mansion for months, with no connection to the outside world. I was declared dead, fer cryin' out loud. I deserve to know what happened, if it's concernin' me or mah family. Ya hearin' me?”
She stared back at him with her jaw falling down and opening again.. “She said....she said she gave you a key.” Pauling finally admitted. “It'll open the door on the upper floor. It's supposed to hold all the answers we need.”
Side by side both stormed up the large set of stairs leading further and further up towards the peak of the mountain.
“Did she at least die without any pain?” he asked. He didn't know why he cared. Why did he care? She wouldn't have cared if he died a tragic death, either. Wasn't the whole idea of this six month adventure to learn to not give a damn?
“I…I think so.” Miss Pauling said. “When we were done, she didn’t say a word. Didn’t get into my car, either. She just...disappeared, really. I can only hope she did not suffer too much."
He nodded. That suits the old woman. Would wanna die with whatever honor she had left.
“And you've been here with her? All this time?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Mah family's been servin' the Mann’s for a long while. Mah granddad in fact build the life extending machines for the twins and the mark one fer the administrator. She expected me ta know mah way around the constructions and fix em'.” At the end of the elongated corridor, they found the locked door. Engineer fished out the keys from his pocket and began fidgeting with the lock, until it opened.
Behind it, there was a large, empty room with no windows, no furniture and no sign of life. A single, naked light bulb hung from the ceiling. Even this one didn't work.
“Is, err, is this the right room?” Engineer asked.
“I – guess. That's the only room up here.”
She stepped inside, and Engineer followed. The door closed behind them on their own accord, and Engineer and Pauling flinched at the noise, wheeling around. Just moments later, the room was suddenly filled with the stinging light of an enormous TV screen. The angular, wrinkled face of the administrator stared back at them.
“Miss Pauling. When you see this video, it means, I am already dead. Well, I wished that was not something I'd ever have to say, but – here we are. I reckon Mister Conagher already handed you the key, else I suppose you wouldn't have been able to open this room. I want you to take the keys, and turn to the wall on your left. There will be a small button hidden at the center.”
Miss Pauling began patting along the wall, and Engineer helped. One of them seemed to have found it and pushed it, as suddenly a small part of the wall slid aside, revealing a safe and a keyboard.
“Once you have found the safe, the code is 2944.” the Administrator instructed. Miss Pauling punched the numbers in and with a soft 'beep' the hatch opened.
“Miss Pauling.” The voice from the screen said after a moment. “I have had this planned for a long while. And I do think this is for the best. My legacy must go on. The legacy of this establishment must keep going. The Mann brothers are dead, but the lands are still theirs to be fought over. This is not an act of kindheartedness because I like paying these mercenaries outrageous paychecks ‘til the sun burns out. I do it because this is what I have been establishing for nearly a century. Besides, the will the twins left are…complicated to say the least. I will spare you the details. What it all boils down to is this – the Gravel War will continue. For a long, long time. Now that my time is over, I hand all my work and all my achievements into your hands. Do not fail me, Miss Pauling. Take your time looking through all the trinkets inside the safe. And then, I want you leave this place. And never come back.”
The screen shut off and the light flicked on, bathing the room in stale, yellow light.
“What is...all this?” The Engineer heard Miss Pauling mutter. She stood in front of the safe, staring into it.
“What is it?” Engineer asked carefully.
The young woman reached inside – and pulled out a map, and a small bundle of photos tied together with a cord. Engineer peered at the map as she rolled it out before her. Instantly, both their jaws dropped simultaneously.
“She's been secretly storing Australium?” Engineer stammered, staring at the big fat golden X on the paper. The location of the very last cache of Australium in existence. “She stored it for me – I'm... she wants me to be the new Administrator.” Miss Pauling concluded. Her big green eyes flickered back at the man next to her. She looked anxious. “She – she could have used it for herself and lived. Why would she – I don't –?“ She quickly snapped the map close. The fear in her face wiped away at instant, replaced with a face of stoic determination.
“No,” she shook her head stiffly. “Nonono. This can't be right. This doesn't make sense. She never, ever mentioned anything about me being her successor, she never even hinted at this. Th-The war is over, there is no reason to keep going anymore.” Helplessly she blinked back at him through her round glasses. “I don't think I can do this.”
Suddenly the screen went on once more, flooding the room in bright light.
“Oh yes. I forgot to mention,” the Administrators voice buzzed. “This building has a self-destruction countdown activated when the safe is opened. You have, ah, I'd estimate a good two minutes left now to leave before you will either get buried beneath tons of rocks or get blown to smithereens.” She said, and the screen turned off again, followed by a sudden rumble that shook the walls and the floor.
They booked it out of there as fast as they could. Which, inevitably, led Engineer back to the BLU base located in the desert of New Mexico. He still had no idea what Miss Pauling was deciding to do now. All he heard was that there were suddenly a lot of people interested in buying the stretches of lands formerly belonging to the twins, yet as it is not stated to whom of the two they belonged, and people being very aggressive about the whole ordeal, another war was brewing.
That was fine with Engineer. As long as it did not involve any more robots, he was fine fighting unicorns and dragons, too. How ironic – he loved all things mechanic and yet had developed a healthy disdain for anything of android nature.
Engineer drew in a deep breath, and began moving. He still had his old keys in his pocket, and instantly headed for his workshop. As far as he could tell, the base has been used as one large storage room. Every bit of furniture has been removed and instead replaced with crates and boxes. Looking inside he found nothing but munition and spare weaponry. Well, he guess they could still use this somehow. He heard the others at the other side of the base. He would not go and greet them just yet, the drive here had been stressful and his attire was old and needed a wash.
So he moved on and towards the workshop. He wasn't all too shocked to see that most of his equipment was gone – but he really did not want to see the entire basement filled with robots. Tons of lifeless metallic corpses were stacked over each other, Scouts and Heavy's and Soldier's and Medics...
Suddenly he really did not want to go down there. But he had to either way. Man up, Conagher, he told himself. It's just robots. Taking his first unsure steps down the wooden staircase, he saw that in fact his entire room was swiped clean from his workbench, drafting table and crates of spare scraps. Every corner and every bit of space was filled with them.
“Ah, shucks.” The Engineer growled, and dropped his duffel bag. “How in Sam's hill I'm gonna work in here with this?”
He he kicked his way towards his lockers and opened them, hoping they hadn't filled them with robots either. Luckily, that wasn't the case. He quickly dropped his old jeans and olive flannel shirt and slipped into his old blue shirt and overall. They smelled of dust and sand, but he didn't mind. Better than sweat and engine oil, and bits of the heavy downpour he had to endure while replacing a wheel at the side of the road.
He observed himself in the mirror. A smile stretched over his face which gradually turned to laughter. Who was that fellow with the beard and short blonde hair over yonder, posing as an Engineer? Was that his visage? He grinned.
He met Scout and Pyro first, digging through crates to find anything of use.
“Greetin's, boys. Digging fer gold in 'ere?”
“Mphimmerr!” Pyro exclaimed and jumped over to him, wrapping their arms around him. Sometimes he forgot how strong the kid was under that suit, Engie was neary lifted off his feet. Chuckling, he embraced the firebug and patted their shoulder. “Good ta see you, too, Pyro. Look at you, you lost some weight.”
Pyro pinched at their stomach and murmured a grateful snigger.
“The hell? Is that you, Engie?” Scout squinted back at him.
“Yup, last I checked, it's me alright.”
“Wow, what?! You look so … old.”
Engineer threw him a very sour glance and Pyro chuckled softly under the mask.
“No, really! Like a friggin' garden gnome. Just’ missing the grey beard -!”
“I got it. Thank you.”
Scout himself had changed too. Shorter hair, leaner than last time they met, the hint of a beard finally growing along the kids' jawline. He resembled a man more now than a child. And were those tattoos on his arms?
“Got yaself inked?” he asked.
“Oh, these?” he posed, showing off his arms. “Pretty cool eh? Got em' in prison. There was this super weird dude that constantly said he's a magician or wizard or some crap, and that he 'cursed me' Iguess? Puh, whatever right? Still got em' sexy guns here.”
“Scout, why were ya in prison?”
“Huh? Oh uhm. Well that's uhh...”
“It's because ze town needed something to enteurtain themselves and because Scout couldn't shut up at ze right time in ze right moment.” Spy walked past Engineer, a plume of smoke following him.
“Oh hey come on, I was buyin' us time, spook!” Scout defended himself. “Whaddaya think I should have done?”
Spy ignored him. He stopped before rounding the corner and finally looked back at the bunch. Gray eyes fixed on the engineer. “It's good to 'ave you back, labourer. I was beginning to think you really did pass away.”
“Pass away?” Scout frowned. “I thought Engie was like, kidnapped.”
“Mhhmahpped?”
“Killed, kidnapped, I doesn’t matteur now, does it? We ‘ave our Engineer back. Alive and vell.” Spy rolled his cigarette between his fingers. “Your sudden departeur was a shock to us all.”
Engineer felt a strange knot forming inside his stomach. He didn't like the way the taller man stared back at him. Dark with intents that he couldn't pinpoint. The way he spoke the word ‘departure’, too, sat wrong with Engie. Something told him he knew…
“Well, glad that I'm very much alive, and back, in one piece as well.” Engineer said, because saying nothing would just make this whole conversation even more awkward.
“Oui.” Spy nodded after a while. A grin stretching over his face that made Engineer even more uncomfortable. “Ah – I believe ze Medic was looking for you. Very important.” he added in a sarcastic tone, then with a soft 'zwishh', he was gone again.
“Spies, eh?” Scout shrugged.
Engineer gave a short nod. “Well, uhm. If' ya excuse me fer a second. Gotta find the doc, then.”
It didn't take long for Engineer to find him. He was practically pacing the hallways along the messhall. Engineer had to swallow when he saw him again, Him and heavy. Gosh. It's been so long...
Medic' stressed face lit up the moment his eyes caught sight of the shorter man. “Dell!!” He exclaimed, dropping everything he carried and ran up to him. “You live! I vas told you vere dead. Oh I'm so glad to see you are alive.”
“Yeah, seems like that's what everyone's thinkin' here.” Engineer laughed. They embraced, patted shoulders, beamed at each other. Engineer nodded towards Heavy with a friendly smile, and Heavy nodded back. There wasn't a chance he'd get a hug out of this one.
“So, heard yer been lookin' fer me?” Engineer asked.
“Oh! Ja, richtig! See, erm...Heavy could you please?”
Heavy came closer, holding out his flat palm. A dead white pigeon lied lifelessly inside.
“Oh, oh dear.” Engineer scratched his beard. “That's Archimedes, ain't it?”
“Ja. Sadly. Vhen zhey cleaned out my laboratory, zhey killed all my doves, even ...even Archimedes. But! I have a plan!” he stepped aside, to reveal the Robot-Scout dangling from Heavy's arm. “Zhis here.”
“Ah, err – I'm not quite followin'.” Engineer blinked.
“Ach, I mean, zhis here of course!” Medic lifted the robots knee. “It's my defibrillator. I need it back, to revive Archimedes and zhe ozhers!”
“Your defi- “ Engineer stopped. “They put yer equipment into the robot?”
“Yes, everyzhing.” Medic shrugged. “I guess zhey ran out of metal and needed more. Used all my bone saws and syringe guns too.”
Engineer frowned. “Well, I guess we're outta luck, doc. Mah entire workshop's been cleaned out. It's a storage room fer robots now.”
“Ach!” Medic slapped his hand to his head. “Vait -You are telling me zhere are more?! More robots?!”
“Yup. Whole place is full of 'em.” Engineer frowned.
“Ve can use zhem to revive ALL of my doves zhen!!” Medic cheered, grabbed Heavy and the Engineer by their arms and dragged them along. “You have got to show zhem to me! I bet more of my equipment has been used for zhem as vell! You still have your wrench?”
“Err, yeah I do. Brought all my gear from home.”
“Perfect! Let's get straight to vork zhen. Hello, Herr Soldier!”
Medic greeted as they passed the corridor. Engineer suddenly came to a stillstand, and not even Medic was able to drag him along anymore.
“Dell, come on. Ve have to get to vork!” He called. But Engineer stared down the hallway to the figure with the large blue coat and heavy iron helmet. Solly. He was here too. Of course he was here, he was sent back after all. He would be completely shocked if Soldier would not have come back to the battlefield, after enduring the life of a civilian for so long.
“Herr Engineer.” Medic's hand grabbed his biceps. “We don't have time to waste!” With a swift tug, Engineer was back to being half-dragged along, half-walking on his own.
A white feather was in his food. He grinned as he looked down into his bowl of stew, and awkwardly fished it out. He must be covered in them. Reviving at least twenty little white pigeons had left his workshop in quite a mess, and himself as well, evidently. Oh well, he rather had dozens of feathers lying around in his workshop than dozens more Robots He, Heavy and Medic had done quite the job to dismantle the droids loitering in his workshop. In both anger and disgust, he had to find out most of his equipment he had left behind had been used to build them. Most of his scraps were gone, his refined metals too. All his sentries and all his prototypes were gone, worked into the bots.
He would bury his wrench into their stupid faces with gusto, watched as glass shattered and bolts flew out from the casing. Collecting everything they needed, Engineer build a battery for the defibrillator, with the energy of several power cores that were inactive inside the robot's. Medic instantly went to re-animating the dead animals. Some took longer than others. Others did not come back at all, unfortunately.
Engineer felt something like a cold grip around his nape whenever he saw the poor animals little body jerk around as electric shockwaves were sent through it. Medic was back to his happy, bubbly self, having a chat with Heavy, while three doves jumped around the tables, stealing pieces of bread from the others, or settled on his shoulder to sleep. Pyro watched the birds intently, gleefully feeding them breadsticks, while Scout tried his best to keep said critters off of his food.
“C'mon get off! Get off, you rats! That's my bread! Hey!!”
Engineer took in a deep breath. It nearly felt like nothing had changed after all. Like the last year and a half never existed, and he simply woke up from a long dream, and now came back to eat with his team and friends, like every evening. His glance fell towards the other bench. Soldier was there, and he was drinking beer with Demo.
“So. Miss Pauling, hm?”
Engineer blinked, looking up at the masked, bony face.
“She's our new voice, zen?” His black, thin eyebrow arched. Engineer felt this familiar twist in his guts, this feeling that the man next to him knew more than he probably should.
“I suppose so.” Engineer shrugged it off. “Good fer her, right?” he grinned. The spy looked very unimpressed by his attempt to play dumb and unknowing.
“Ze administrator wanted it zat way, I presume?”
“I mean, let's be real here – she wouldn't jus' pick any random person fer the job, right? Gotta be someone who's well aware of how this whole circus works.”
“Yes, zat is true.” Spy nodded. A moment of silence set in, in which Engineer's eyes, luckily hidden beneath his goggles, went from his bowl, back to the opposite table, catching a glance at Soldier again.
“Tell me, laboureur.” Spy mumbled. “Is it true ze Administrator kept a whole cache of Australium hidden for Miss Pauling to keep on ze legacy?”
Engineer turned his head to him so fast he nearly got dizzy. What in the – how did the Spook know about this?
“Now that's what they're sayin' right? Saxton Hale's been tryin' his very hardest ta convince Miss Pauling ta give it to him fer her protection. Don't think she's that stupid though.”
Spy nodded slowly. “Oui. But can you blame 'im? Every bit of Australium gone, just to settle an old debt – if I were in his shoes, I'd be itching to skip ze 'inquire' part.”
He glanced back at the Spy, jaw set.
“Careful, mon ami,” Engie drawled. “That there sounded an awful lot like yer achin’ ta get yer hand on it.”
Spy laughed. “And vat, do you think, should I be doing vith Australium? Coat my blade in it? Make myself younger?” he laughed again, and . “You and Miss Pauling ‘ave nozhing to vorry about such things.”
“Ya know,” Engie cocked his head. “Dunno how you know about Miss Pauling and the Australium, or how much yer know – but I shoulda oughta beat that there right out of yer noggin, right here and now, before yer flickin’ yer snake-tongue around to the wrong people.”
“You could.” Spy grinned. “Or you could let sleeping dogs lie – lest you catch zeir fleas. Speaking of lying vith dogs.“ Spy pointed over Engineer’s shoulder.
Engie turned, and noticed Soldier leaving his table. He gave Demo a last pat on the shoulder, then he marched off towards their quarters.
“I think he ‘as guard duty tonight.” Spy said casually.
“Huh? Engineer mumbled.
Spy's long finger pointed towards the Soldier's back again. “Do vith zat information as you please.” The Spook stood then, carelessly dropping his cigarette into the Engineer's stew. It sunk down to the bottom with a sizzling sound.
“Wh-- Hey! I was still eatin' that!” He snarled.
“No you veren't.” Spy retorted, before disappearing with a soft 'zwishh'.
He waits until he’s sure everyone returned to their respective past-time activities before Engie follows upon Spy’s words and goes looking for the Soldier. Armory? No. It was empty anyway, and instead filled with more crates of useless junk. Would have to clean this one up as well once they had the time for it. Perhaps his room? He knocked, and nobody opened.
If I were Soldier, and I were on guard duty – where would I go, Engie thought. Scratching his head, he stood in the hallway and looked down the corridor, thinking. The showers perhaps? The locker room? Kitchen? At Medic's laboratory?
He could be outside, the tinkerer thought, and left for the entrance.
The sky was already dark, the stars smiling down at him. The crickets were chirping loudly and a soft breeze tickled his face. This - He had missed this. The sounds of anything other than the howling of the wind through dusty dunes and hoodoos. And the feeling of being free, being a man who could step out of this base without being in danger of getting locked up again. Sucking in a deep breath, he exhaled slowly. He used to dislike the dusty air around the base, but tonight, it tasted real. And that was all he cared about.
He suddenly wheeled around as he heard a noise. A noise at the base's roof. At first he believed it was just an animal that started a brawl with another one. Until he heard grunting in between as well. Human grunting. Engineer flinched. Oh jeez, what was this now? They just had gotten back to their bases, and RED already tried a sneak attack on them? Wouldn't surprise him that much, in all honesty, but dagnabbit! Guess he had to single-handedly take care of that problem.
Pulling his handgun from his belt, he slowly began climbing up the iron ladder to the top. Once on top, he crouched down, gun held in front of him. He pulled down his goggles to see better in the dark, and looked around. The roof was flat, with a few vent-shafts and ventilation turbines. As far as he could see, there was nothing and nobody up here. Could be a trick of course, perhaps the enemy's Spy.
“I know ya here. Come out.” he said slowly. At first, there was nothing. Then suddenly, something moved from behind one of the vent shafts. Something small, round, and furry. Engineer made a step back in surprise. Gun held down at the thing. Two round yellow eyes stared back at him, reflecting the light from the moon above them. Engineer lowered his gun and breathed through. Just a raccoon.
“OORAH!!”
Suddenly, his entire body was tackled to the ground, buried under something heavy that pressed him flat to the floor. A heavy arm pressed against his sternum. A very angry face hidden beneath a heavy iron lid stared back at him.
“IDENTIFY YOURSELF!”
Engineer blinked hard to get his reeling brain to settle back into thinking. “W-Wh – “
“I SAID IDENTIFY YOURSELF!!” The arm pressed harder against his sternum. He felt his ribs groan with the force and his lungs deflating.
“Attacking my lieutenant like this – I should send your sorry ass back to the past so our Founding Fathers will kick your ass back into the future!!”
“S-Solly, It’s jus’ me. It's me, lemme go!”
“I do not know a person called 'me', other than ME!!”
“E-Engie. I'm Engie!!”
The man on top paused. “Engie?” he asked, his voice stopped booming and hurting his ears for once, and that was enough for Engineer to nod and try to shove his arm off of him. But no such luck, as Soldier instantly pushed him back down again. “You do not look like Engie!!” he growled dangerously.
“I swear it's me!” He choked out.
“PROVE IT!”
“What?!”
“I SAID PROVE IT, MAGGOT!”
“SOLDIER, YA GODDAMN DUMBASS! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!”
It's a miracle that Soldier suddenly pulls back all at once. Nobody called him a dumbass, ever. Aside, of course from Engie. He still straddled his hips, but his arm was off of his windpipe. Engineer gulped air down his lungs and sat up. Rubbing his chest and neck, he looked back at him.
“Ngh! Hell, I'd not like ta be a Spy sneakin' around your back.”
Soldier grinned, and scrambled off of the Engineer. He held out his hand, and Engineer took it. The Soldier pulled him up to his feet.
“Apologies, Engie. Can't be more careful as for right now. I have a little Lieutenant to take care off, and the REDs could attack us again.”
“Little lieutenant?” Engineer asked, blinking. Suddenly something big, fat, and very shaggy climbed up Soldier's leg, then vanished swiftly inside his jacket. The Texan took a big step backwards.
“W-Was that - a raccoon?!” he blurted out.
“Affirmative. This is Lieutenant Bites. Bites, because he bites. Alot. Ow!” he winced. But then a big smile appeared on his face again. “See?” A bitemark, angry and red, began glowing on his collarbone. “Bites like a champ!”
“I have several questions.”
“Make it quick, gear-head. I'm on watch, and I can't be distracted.”
He sat down at the edge of the base, legs dangling down. Engineer figured, hey. He already climbed all the way up here, why not stay up here a while. Watch the stars and talk a while. He joined the man, sitting down, one leg over the edge, the other tugged underneath him.
“So – where ya got the raccoon from?”
“My old roommate was imprisoned, so I changed his big castle into a raccoon sanctuary.”
That just brought up more questions, really.
“Your roommate got jailed? Why? “
He shrugged. “I think it was something about the Japanese mafia.” he said. Engineer had to take a moment to swallow those information. Oh gods, what sorts of people had Soldier befriended?!
“And uhm, why a raccoon sanctuary, outta every animal?”
Soldier looked at him. Despite his face being hidden, he looked offended by that question. “Raccoons are closer to human beings than you think, professor! AN EXAMPLE,” he hollered, making the furry animal inside his coat weasel out and crawling along his shoulder and away. “They eat what we leave behind. If you look at it from a different angle, they eat human food. They wash their fur, like we wash ourselves. And they have five fingers. Like we do. ” he held out his hand to demonstrate. Engineer nodded lowly.
“I see. Well, either way – it's nice ta know ya doin' it fer the critters. But...” he looked at the fresh bite mark on his neck. “Ya might wanna see a doctor. In case any of 'em got rabies.”
“Rabies?!” Soldier snarled. “My Lieutenants don't have rabies!!” He scratched along the wound. “Only communists and Europeans get rabies. I am American. You and I, we do not fall ill that easily, especially not from some nibbles.”
Engineer made a mental note to let Medic know he should have him checked.
Gosh. It was strange. It really felt like he never even left. Not even Soldier had changed within that single year, not one bit.
Nothing about him was different in any way, aside from some scratches and torn sports on his coat. His face was still clean shaven and hidden. Aside from a scar that ran along his cheek, probably caused by an untrimmed raccoon-claw, there was no indication that he had aged at all. Well, sure it was only one, maybe two years they had been apart. But compared to the other mercenaries, with their first strands of gray hair and their first wrinkles when they laughed, he was still himself. Has anything changed at all? Perhaps time had been standing still all this time, and only he had moved along. Or maybe it was the other way around? He couldn't tell.
His face must have given away his concerns, because Soldier grunted: “What's that thousand-yard stare, private?”
Engineer flinched and turned back to look at him. He shuddered. It was getting cold. “Nothin'. It's nothin'.” Engineer shook his head.
“Jus’ glad to see yer’ve been holding up.” Well, he wasn’t in prison, like he had feared. He hadn’t gotten himself killed, either. That was good.
“You have been AWOL,” Soldier commented.
“I have,” Engie replied. Still remembering the night he packed up and abandoned the base. Still remembered his hurried scribbling, and his hand slipping the note under Soldier’s door.
“I assume it was of greatest importance to abandon your post in the middle of a war, without a single word?”
Dang, did he have to go and word it like that? Guilt made Engie sigh. “It was.”
Soldier nods, once, and they fall into silence.
“Well. I’mma leave yer to it. Gonna go back inside. Wanna get mahelf ready ta fight tomorrow.”
“You plan on fighting with this peach fuzz on your face?” Soldier stood too now. “Son, that is a disgrace to the battle codex! My soldiers must stay clean shaven and well-trimmed!”
The Texan looked back at him, running his hand through his beard. “Heh. Guess yer right...been growin' this thing long enough now...”
“Follow me to the locker rooms.” Soldier said and walked towards the hatch.
“Err, huh?”
“To the locker rooms, greasemonkey. I'll give you a shave worthy of a soldier.”
“Oh, uh, Sal. Ya don't need to – “
“Yes, I need to.” Soldier crouched down to open the hatch. “I've seen how you shave, Engie. It's horrendous! If you can't take care of some stubble properly, I do NOT want to see you handling that.” he pointed at the growth on his chin.
Engineer crossed his arms. A smug little smile on is face. “Didn'ya jus’ tell me yer on guard duty?”
Soldier froze. It tugged hard on his heart strings when he noticed even Soldier's awkward fidgeting and hesitating has not changed.
“I can be on watch down there as well!!” Soldier retorted.
And so Engineer followed Soldier down back into the base and down the hallways, past the common room and towards the showers. There was no one giving them a strange look as they passed, most of them were busy anyway. Demo had fallen asleep on the sofa watching soap operas and Heavy and Scout were playing cards. The locker room was empty. It was not very brightly lit, and pretty cold.
It was downstairs on basement level, so there was no natural sunlight coming down here. Rows of lockers and benches filled the room. His own was at the very end of the row, where he stored everything he couldn't keep in his workshop, else it might get lost. Letters from his parents, old photographs of home, the keys to his old farm house back in Bee Cave.
“Sit down private. I'll grab everything else.” Soldier nodded to one of the benches, and Engineer did. Soldier opened his locker with the combination '1,1,1,1' and began rummaging inside it. It sounded like there was a lot in it. Shouldn't surprise him, considering Soldier proved himself to be a hoarder at times and claimed a lot of random things as his own. He recognized the bucket that tumbled out with a loud clank and rolled away.
“Ah-hah!” he exclaimed finally, and pulled out a small box, a brush, and a razorblade. Engineer gulped. Sure he could handle one of these on his own face – but someone else?
Soldier walked over to him, swung his leg over the bench and sat down. “Turn around.”
Engineer blinked back at him in confusion. Turn around, huh?
“Mah beards at the front, Sal.” he chuckled, giving it a tug.
Soldier's lips drew up in a snarl. “Your hair will go shorter too, else it'll get in your eye during battle like a hippie. Are you a hippie? NO, you are not! And I'll be damned to let you run around like one. Turn around.”
Engineer grinned, and turned finally, straddling the bench between his legs. Soldier mixed the lather and spread a liberal amount over his hair with a brush, then continued spreading the rest with his hands.
Rubbing them into the sides of his temples down to his ear and sideburns. Engineer felt himself tense, then relax under the touch. Next came the feeling of something cold, metallic against the base of his neck, running up and along his skin. He could feel the hair being clipped off from his scalp. He didn't mind losing the bit that had grown while living with the administrator. Having hair while fighting in very hot climates under the burning sun, wearing a plastic helmet led to overheating very quickly.
For a while there was just the sound of the razor running along his skin and scraping hair off of his head, coupled with Soldier's soft respiration against his ear whenever he leaned forward to get a better glance at what he was shaving. Then an occasional 'zwink' as Soldier cleaned the foam off the blade with a towel. Engineer let his mind wander in the silence of the room. He just realized that there was so much all of the sudden he wanted to tell the man. So much he wanted to ask him in return. But where to start?
The Administrator was gone, so – what hindered him from telling him everything he could? He could tell him of her plans to separate Soldier and RED Demo, and destroy their friendship. He could tell him that he had known about the robots for months before they had attacked. He could tell him where he had been all this time, hidden with the Administrator – but no. He forgot, that he could not. He had promised Miss Pauling not to tell anybody.
“So...how have ya been holdin' up, Sal? Life's been treatin' you fine?”
“Affirmative.” Soldier nodded.
“Didn't get in trouble with the law?”
“Negatory.” Soldier shook his head and the straps of his helmet dangled to a fro. “One of the mafia guys my roommate was dealing with hurt one of my raccoons though, and so I had to snap his neck.”
“Y-Yer killed a man from the mafia?” Engineer stammered.
“Yes.” Soldier looked proud. “They send out more of those maggots but I snapped all their necks. Merasmus looked very happy that he had them off his back.”
Despite everything, Soldier sounded at ease. Happy, almost.
It was the same voice that had droned through the speakers of the TV sets, crying out in pain when Grey’s Pyro’s drill tore through his teeth and gums. An addition to his recurring nightmares. It had been one of the worst things Engie had to hear.
“Your hand.” Soldier broke the silence. “Still functioning?”
“Oh. uh.” Engineer slipped his glove aside, showing him the Gunslinger. “Yeah. Still got it. Still workin' jus' fine. I still haven't had a chance ta witness its full potential though.”
“You will, once we go back to war.”
He sounded secretly happy about that. That they would soon be back to fighting each other, and considering everything that happened the last few years, Engie was too.
“Yeah. Phew. It's been such a long time, and now, suddenly, we're back to the old days. Ain't it a bit strange?”
“Hm!” Soldier mumbled. Engineer wasn't sure if he agreed or not. His hand guided his head to turn to the right. “I have counted down the days until this useless life of a civilian would end. Rescuing raccoons and snapping mafia bosses necks does not make up for the glorious feeling of blowing RED's to bits, or smashing in heads with shovels. What about you? Don't you miss a good kill with a sentry?” he gave Engineer a playful nudge against his shoulder.
“Heh. Well. Yeah. Kinda? I guess after the robots I've been a bit...” He paused. “I guess...” Engineer continued, slower, and quieter. “I guess after the robots, I lost the appetite for bein' killed.”
“Dying is unavoidable Engie. We all are nothing but a slowly discomposing pile of junk that kicks the bucket sooner or later! BUT - You do not get killed if you know how to fight.” Soldier replied.
“Did that spare ya one or two horrible deaths of the hands of giant robots?”
“...Negatory.” he admitted.
There was a pause again, and Engineer felt his chest tighten. “I still have nightmares about it, yknow.”
Soldier's hand stopped, the blade still at his scalp. “About the robots. The big one's in particular. “ he chuckled because he knew it was ridiculous to still feel fear for something that stopped existing and most probably would never return. “What about yaself?”
Soldier grunted. “I don't have nightmares.” he says. “I NEVER have nightmares.”
Engineer nodded, and swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah. Seems like y'all been very good at handlin' that heavy stuff, huh?”
Soldier grabbed the towel and ran it over his scalp. “Done?” Engie asked. That was quick.
“Yessir. Hair's all gone.” Soldier said, and Engineer ran his hand along his head. “Mh, yeah. Better than I ever do.”
“Do not think we are done yet, professor. I will wash this off first, then get that bolshie beard out of your face.”
Soldier stood, carrying the towel and blade to the nearest basin. The hand running along his scalp ended up running down his face and resting there. Rubbing along the side of his face. In a way, he envied Soldier. It really seemed like there was absolutely nothing that could break the man down. Near-death experiences? No chance. Giant robots? Nothing.
Soldier returned and sat back down. Engineer turned, scooted closer. Soldier wordlessly took a hold of Engineer's jaw, gently lifting it up, and putting on lather, before setting the blade at the remaining hair on his sideburns.
He felt a bit uncomfortable with a sharp blade so close in his face, and without goggles or without the control of his own hands working on him. But he trusted Soldier. Working from this angle, Engineer could finally take him in better. He had discarded his jacket. The white shirt he usually wore beneath was covered in little scratches and torn sports, most probably from the raccoons he was fostering. And he noticed the shirt looked a bit...tighter on him as usual. Either he gained more muscles, or more weight. Unbidden thoughts came to him, one worse than the other – that he still looked as intimidating and bold and good as ever.
Soldier turned his head to the side to get better access, leaning in closer. His warm breath tickled along his face. Being this close, Engie knew if he leaned in, he could put his lips on Soldier’s right here and then.
Instead he tried focusing on that fresh bite mark on his collarbone. “Shucks. Still bleedin', this here.” Engineer murmured, and reached out. His fingers running along the four small holes in his skin and brushing off droplets of blood oozing out. “Yer not in any pain?”
Soldier shook his head slowly. He had pause with shaving for a moment, but continued slowly. “This is nothing. If he wants, Lieutenant Bites knows how to tear off fingers and toes!”
“And...has he done that before?”
“He did. Thankfully my roommate had some come-back-stronger medicine in his cabinet. I think it's for his flimsy heart problems.”
Engineer began feeling more and more creeped out by that roommate of his.
“What's his name again?”
“Merasmus the Magician.” Soldier answered. “But he lost his wizarding license a few years ago.”
“Hmm, that's strange, Scout's been tellin' me he and Spy have met a magician in prison, actually. Maybe's the same one? Speakin’ of Spies, have ya-“ But Soldier’s shoulders squared at that and Engie stopped talking. The man’s lips curled into a snarl and he pulled the blade through the towel a bit faster and a bit harder than before. Oh boy, what was this about?
Engie knew Soldier didn't like him, but -
And then he remembered. “Yer still mad about what happened some two years ago? The whole ‘I deserve better company’ schtick?”
Of course Soldier was still harboring a grudge about it. Gives him reasons to enjoy killing them on the battlefield.
But Soldier chuffed angrily. “You think I care what the spook has to say?” He let go of his face and stopped shaving, his hands setting on his thighs and he leaned back further. “Because I do NOT! That craven frog-licker has been sneaking around me and you all day long now, that slimy little CRAVEN!”
“He – really? How didya notice?”
“I know how a Spy works. He thinks I can't see, or hear him, but I can. He's been following you around for hours, constantly hovering around you. Whenever he tried getting too close to me, I made sure myself he would stay off of my back.”
That was…not good. Perhaps a safety measure? Still, the idea of Spy hovering just inches away from him for the entire day now was making his skin crawl.
“Heckin' Spies.” he spat. “I tell ya, that boy ain’t right. Dunno how he knows about Pauling becoming our new boss. Dunno if he’s after the last Australium cache. Spook sounded awfully interested about that. He’s been at me ever since I came back from – !“
He stopped himself there, his jaw snapping shut. He was not to speak about what happened, to anyone – even now.
“Engie.” Soldier said. His voice softer than before, but still filled with its usual authoritarian sound. “Where have you been?”
Engineer knew he looked guilty. He knew he was putting the man's trust at risk. Two strong hands suddenly clamped down on his shoulder, hard enough to startle him. Soldier was looming over him, his stance tense, but non-aggressive. “Where? Engie, where?” he asked, giving his shoulders a jerk. The tinkerer stared back in surprise. He blinked confused, then his shaking hands took hold of Soldier's wrists, gently urging them to let go of him.
“I can't – I can't tell you, Sal. If I do, she's – the Administrator ordered Miss Pauling to kill me, and anybody I tell. I can live with mahself getting' killed, but you, I – please don't make me do that.”
Soldier stared back at him for a while. The he slowly let go of him, Engie's hands still on his wrist. He couldn't read his emotions. He looked...sad? No. Disappointed? He couldn't tell. Angry, maybe? He sat up then, chest out and head held high.
“Spoken like a true patriot. Americans are NEVER snitching! I would not have expected anything less from you.”
For some reason those words felt very empty in his ears. It nearly felt like he tried to tell him to forget he asked. Picking up the blade again, he went back to shaving his face. Slow, deliberate, long strokes along his face to remove even the tiniest stubble. Shaving off the last bits of his sideburns, he let the blade run down and along the underside of his jaw. Engineer felt himself tense s the sharp object ran down and along his jugular. He knew Soldier wouldn't hurt him, but –
“Wherever you have been,” Soldier rumbled. “Did they treat you at least with the amount of respect an American deserves?”
“Uh. What?”
“If you cannot tell me where you've been, I at least want to know if they treated you well. If it's been some filthy Europeans you've had to deal with, I will take all measures to teach these fruitcake - bastards a lesson!“
“Sal, calm down. I'm alright. I've been treated well.” He was lying, more or less, but what can he do? The Administrator was gone. The Mann's were gone. Grey's thugs were gone. There was no one left that wronged him, or the team, to send Soldier after. “And I'm alive.”
Soldier nodded. “Good. That's...that's good.”
“Yeah.” Engineer offered him a charming smile. He ran his hand along his jaw and face. Shaved clean. Wow. It felt strange to touch his bare chin again. “Well, this gotta be the nicest shave ah've ever gotten. Thank ya kindly, Mister.”
Soldier nodded. “You are welcome, Engineer.” he passed him the towel. “Now this is how an American must face the battle. With no hair in his eyes, and no hair around his food hole.”
Engineer laughed.
After a long while, laughing felt strange, but so, so nice, so freeing. And he opened his eyes and he realized, as he looked back at the man in front of him, how badly he suddenly wanted to touch him. To touch, and feel, and hold. It was cold and Soldier was always warm. It felt like he had swallowed a net of butterflies. It's like his body and mind finally found one another, finally realized that this is here, it's real. It's back to what it used to be.
“Please don't call it food hole again,” Engineer chuckled. His hand came up, and rested at the back of the man's nape. “It's too funny ta take seriously.”
Unfortunately the time apart did not make Soldier any shorter, and himself any taller. Engineer scooted close, and stretched. His lips softly touching his.
Oh yes. They were still the same as they were before. Soft, with the slightest chap there, scars and crevices. Warm. Like everything about him. And unmoving. And that's when Engineer finally realized it – Soldier wasn't kissing him back. He sat there, not moving, not reacting. Just letting it happen. And the butterflies inside him instantly turned to lead. It suddenly occurred to him that there might be a chance that Soldier … might not kiss him back, ever.
A chance that whatever they had before the war before their separation was, well – nothing to him anymore. His heart clenched, hard, like a fist around it squeezing tightly. He pulled away, slowly, already preparing an explanation, or an apology – and then it came.
Soldier pressed back. Careful at first, and then, with a sudden, familiar force and passion that took the Engineer by surprise. A large hand curled around his hairless head to hold him while Soldier pressed his lips against his. The other hand encircling him, pulling him closer. Engineer held onto his taut shoulders as he was pressed against a large wall of muscles and warmth. His leg awkwardly folded over Soldier's thigh until they were flush against one another. Engineer felt teeth nibble at his lower lip, a kiss on the side of his mouth, another nibble, another kiss – and then he spoke.
“You damn maggot.” he growled. There was a sort of – gods, he couldn't describe it any other way – desperation in his voice. “I've been looking for you. Everywhere.”
“B-Been lookin' fer me...?” Engineer repeated, a bit hazed from the sudden rush of adrenaline in his head. “But I told ya not to-!” Lips found the side of his neck and suckled, nibbled. He could feel his own pulse there beating against Soldier's mouth, and it spiked as Soldier sunk his teeth there. Oh god, that's gonna leave a mark, his head told him. But before he could care about it, he spoke again.
“You think this was gonna stop me? I believed you were kidnapped, and killed! And – and – “
‘Tell a man like him not to do something, and he will break his neck trying.’
Augh.
“Sal.” Engineer gently pushed him until they were face to face again. His hands leaving his shoulders to hold his jaw. “I'm fine. I'm okay, I jus' – I had to go. Please jus' trust me. I can't tell you the details, but I wouldn't lie to ya. ”
He could see the man's mind progress his words behind the helmet. He nodded slowly. Engineer smiled, stroking his cheek with the back of his fingers. “That's mah Soldier-boy.”
He leaned in, and this time, Soldier did too, meeting half-way. Opening their lips, they explored each other’s mouths, while their hands began to wander. Engineer's hand traveled down his neck, softly rubbing soothing circles into the bite mark his raccoon left, then gently massaged his shoulders.
Soldier murmured a soft moan against his mouth as his hands squeezed along a tense muscle there. He seemed to relax, his body melting against his own, breathing deeply. Feeling risky, he let a hand vanish beneath the collar of his shirt to squeeze and massage along the naked skin of his trapezius. He seemed to do something right because Soldier growled and grunted in approval.
Baring his short nails, he ran them up and along his neck to the short bits of hair beneath the helmet. Hissing, Soldier bucket against him, throwing Engineer out of focus at the sudden blissful friction. Soldier's hands clung a bit tighter to his back, squeezing, just holding, waiting for a new touch. And Engineer delivered, running his fingers further up his scalp and into the helmet, feeling short hair bristle against his skin. Nearly as short as his own. Still enough to make Soldier thrust back against him with a gasp.
“Engie.” he rumbled. Suddenly, he pushed, and Engineer fell back onto the bench below them, with Soldier leaning over him. Kissing him, kissing his cheek, his nose, his jawline, down to the collar of his shirt. The Texans legs dangled a bit awkwardly around Soldier's hips, until he settled the heels of his dirty boots on the small of his back. He ground down against him, slowly, hard, deliberate. Engineer let his head fall back. Electric shocks ran from between his rapidly hardening groin to his abdomen and into every inch of his body.
The bench was small, so he could feel Soldier was trying to keep his balance with every long thrust of his hips. Engineer's hands moved down to hold onto his hips. “Yeah, there, that's the spot.” Engineer murmured a bit dazed as Soldier sped up his rubbing. The tinkerer drew in a sharp breath.
“Ah, I'd love ta have ya outta those clothes, pardner.” he breathed, Soldier answering with a deep approving grunt, hands fumbling around with the man's shirt that was tugged inside his belt. Pulling, he freed it finally, drawing it up to his arms. Soldier sat up, and scrambled out of his shirt. What was a hint on his shirt revealed to be much worse on his skin. Scratches and claw marks and bitemarks. Some that healed, some were still fresh. Once freed of the shirt, he came back down, leaning into the Engineer to kiss him once more. Engineer let his fingers run down and along his spine, feeling many more claw-marks.
“Mhh. Sal. Ya gotta promise me ta not let yer raccoons use ya as a – Oh. Nnh. As a jungle gym.”
“I don't mind a few scratches.” he breathed back, “I can handle them.”
“W-Well, I can't handle ta be in them pants anymore. Ya feelin' me?” for emphasis, he let his hand run up the Soldier's thigh. He didn't even have to touch to know that the military was straining painfully against his slacks as well. Beginning to unzip his fly, he noticed Soldier was nibbling at his earlobe. He chuckled, breathily, while unbuckling his belt. Soldier's own fingers were very busy trying to undo the straps of his overall while simultaneously pushing them down his shoulders. Inevitably, lying against each other on restricted leverage was not working out.
“Hol' up, jus', hold up a sec.” Engineer gently pushed him off of him, and stood. Soldier followed him immediately. Poor guy looked confused for a moment as to why Engie was walking away – until he saw his fingers working on his shirt and overall, until he was out of them. Carelessly tossing his wife-beater aside, he pushed his pants down, and slipped out of his boots. He noticed Soldier was looking at him in silent awe, drinking in his nudity and all the Engineer could do was laugh again, his face heating up.
“C'mere.” the texan rumbled softly, stepping towards him, grabbing his belt, and pulling him in for another smooch. Soldier eagerly replied. The tinkerer kissed his lips, his jaw, a trail of wet kisses on his Adams apple. It bobbed as Soldier swallowed. Engineer grinned into his neck, taking a deep breath. Leather, gunpowder, a slight tinge of tobacco. His chest against his own, he felt him radiating warmth. He wanted nothing more to just hold him close and feel his warmth seep into him, but he was most definitely overdressed.
Finishing what he started, he unbuckled him, then undid the buttons. Hooking his thumbs into Soldier's waistband, he pulled them down, plus underwear. The commando's hot member, freed of its cage, pulsed against his abdomen, heavy and demanding. He crossed his arms over the man's shoulders, rubbing himself against him. He felt him shiver in his arms, his solid statue growing weak in his grasp as he trapped his cock between their stomachs.
He had to stand on his toes to match his height while pushing his cock into Soldier’s. The Commando gave a low growl, gulped, head plus helmet clanking against Engie’s. He wanted to remove the helmet from his head. But he knew if he did, he would probably spook the man. He never took it off, ever – he didn't even truly know what he looked like. What the color of his eyes were. Shamefully he noticed the sudden spike in arousal at that realization.
It just added a certain edge of excitement to the whole ordeal. He added a hand now, reaching down to cup the head of the man's erection, rubbing. The Soldier groaned, suddenly leaning against him heavily, with both hands clawing at his lower back for stability.
A trickle of precum oozed out from his tip and spread over the Engineer's bellybutton. He shuddered.
“Turn around.” Soldier panted against his ear.
Engie was moving too slow for the Soldier’s taste, and his hand grabbed his hips to fling him around quickly, a broad chest pressing hard against his back. Suddenly Engineer found himself pressed against the lockers, hands flat against the cold surface. Behind him, he was cocooned in heat. Soldier's hands held his hips, while he ground against the small of his back, down into the cleft of his ass, grunting with gusto at the friction.
He took his sweet time with rolling his erection up and down his lower back. A hand next to his head to keep them both from falling into each other, the other rubbing along his hip, over his stomach, thick fingers threading through the thatch of hair that grew from his bellybutton down to his length. A bit clumsy, he pawed at him, not sure what and where to touch correctly, but gods, he still felt his heart quicken and a flinch of pleasure inside his stomach. As quick as it came, his hand left him again, holding onto his hips now with an iron grip. Without a warning, he pushed himself against his opening – Engineer cried out.
“W-Wait, augh, hold on, stop – stop.” his hand reached behind him, digging his nails into the Soldier's hipbone. “Stop.”
“What? What is it?” Soldier snarled against his neck, his voice vibrating against his skin and making him shudder even harder.
“S-Slowly. Okay? Slowly. Y-Yer a big boy, gotta – gotta do it slow.” was all he managed with his hazy mind, filled with pain and hunger.
He didn't know if the Commando understood, because he leaned into him, until he was fully sandwiched between Soldier's body and the locker. A strong arm was wrapped around his midsection, and the Soldier's face pressed against the side of his neck. And for a while they stood like this, their quickened breathing all the sounds that existed.
The tinkerer took a bit comfort in the hug and the warmth of his heated body against his while he felt like he was torn open down there. Good thing he had the wits to stop him from forcing his way into him, otherwise this was going to have been a very painful experience. And slowly, he let his body settle, relax, and instantly he was rewarded by feeling the Soldier slip into him easier, inch by inch. The pain was still there, but the more he moved in, the better it felt. And just like that Soldier's hips were flush against his backside.
He pulled back, slowly, like he asked him to do – and drove himself back inside him. And finally, Engineer felt the pain subside, giving into what he had craved so much - He felt filled, and his insides burned whenever he drove out of him, sated and completed when he thrust back into him. The Texan's jaw dropped, letting out a gruff sound of approval that seemed to spur the Soldier on further.
Cradling his body against his own in his strong arm, with his other stabilizing them against the locker door, he began thrusting harder, quicker. Hips snapping back and forth, he felt his knees nearly giving in. He clenched his teeth as he pushed back against the force of the man above him, until they fell into a well-tuned rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed through the empty hall, Engineer's and Soldier's occasional grunts, sighs and gasps breaking through the silence as well.
The tinkerer wished he had something else to hold on to than the flat cold surface he was pushed against, and his hand blindly reached out, grabbing onto the Soldier's nape. He felt sweat there, under the thin layer of sandy hair. In return, Soldier's teeth sunk into his shoulder,
“Sal – !” Engineer groaned in a startle at the sudden pain, his heart leaping at the thought that it must have left a mark there, from how hard he bit him. He gave a soft sob, both with the pain and the pleasure combined as Soldier kissed along the mark, and accelerated his thrust until he was pounding into him like a jackhammer. Sweat rolled down his face, his limbs quivering. Gosh, if this is what it could be like, he dreaded their first time, when it was all forced and inexperienced. But this now? This made more than up for it.
First times were meant to be awkward. This here however was like nothing he ever felt. It felt strange, scary, out of this world. Never felt his body so limb and submissive to something so good, something so intense, let alone someone else's force – and judging from the array of noises the man above him made, he knew the feeling was mutual. His hand on his nape absentmindedly rubbed up and down, bristling through the hair there.
The man above him gasped, back arched all of the sudden, hips stuttering.
Oh?
Engineer did it again, and Soldier pushed out a quick breath between clenched teeth. Then it suddenly made sense to him. His hair...
He murmured something against his nape.
“W-What?” Engineer stammered.
Soldier rumbled again.
“G-Gotta speak up, pardner.”
The arm around him tightened, hand clawing at his body.
“More.” he rasped against his earlobe, rough and demanding. And Engineer felt like he would melt right here and there. Gulping, he let his hand slip up and beyond the lid of the helmet, running thick fingers through the spiky stubble of hair he had there. Soldier groaned, hips returning to roughly snap against his own, deep and hard and quick, and Engineer realized with a sudden flinch in his guts that he was close, very close. That hot knot forming in his abdomen aching to snap -
And suddenly there was another noise. And Engineer froze. And Soldier froze too. It was the sound of the door opening. Footsteps. Quick and light. A very boyish voice softly humming a tune as he skipped along the rows of lockers. Took them only a mere moments to realize it was the Scout, merrily coming closer. And closer. And then he came to a still stand a mere two rows of lockers apart from them. Engineer kept his jaw locked tight to stop any noises of his heavy breathing. Soldier had lifted his head like an alert meerkat, and his hips pressed against him, still, yet quivering with the effort.
They heard a locker being unlocked and the door opening with an echoing creak. For a while there was just shuffling to hear, objects being placed on the metal container, clothes being handled with – suddenly a short, smug chortle.
“Heyy, Miss Pauling.” Scout greeted, and Engineer's heart nearly stopped beating at this point. Oh nono, not Miss Pauling as well! It would be bad enough to be spotted by the Scout, but their boss too?!
Silence. Then again, “Heyy, Miss Pauling,” Scout called, this time his voice doing a little jump.
“Miss Pauling, you're looking especially fine today. No, uhm...Good evening Miss Pauling, what a pleasant surprise.”
And then it dawned on him. – was the boy training his pickup lines here in the locker rooms? He suddenly felt pressure and friction inside him, and Soldier making a few soft noises. Looks like he was threatening to lose the battle of standing still with his cock still buried deep in him, for he was beginning to roll his hips again.
Nonono, not a good idea. Engineer slipped his arm that was trapped between them. He brought it down, snatching the Soldier's balls with a warning grip. He heard the military man make a sudden startled noise, and stood still again. But now he noticed every bit of noise the Scout was making had ceased, too.
“Uh. Hello?” he asked into the silence. Footstep again. Walking, but not coming closer. “Anybody here?”
Soldier was the loudest person Engineer knew, but in that moment, even a church mouse could not have been quieter than he was.
“Meh.” Scout audibly shrugged, and went back to his locker, wrapping things up with whatever business he was doing there. The locker door closed, and Scout walked back towards the door, whistling the melody to whatever Tom Jones song was stuck inside his head. Then, silence returned. And in the silence, they both let out a breath they were holding. Engineer even laughed. “Can ya believe he's still tryin' ta woo Miss Pauling while we are ruttin' like animals jus' a few feet away?”
Soldier grunted with a strained voice. Engineer realized he was still giving his privates a very tight handle, so he loosened his grip, instead giving them a few soft and encouraging squeezes. He felt the Soldier's body shudder against him, and his arm loosening around him. Engineer suddenly feared the shock had somehow killed the mood for him. But instead, his large paw traveled down the Texan's leg, along his sensitive inner thigh, and down to his member. Giving it a few tugs.
“Do you want this to end too quickly, grease monkey?” he hissed against his ear, his deep voice breathless and edged. Engineer let go of him in favor of grasping at the man’s hand around his member. Soldier's hand was rough and unforgiving on his cock, squeezing, stroking hard and quick.
“Ungh, Solly, c'mon!“ he panted.
“Come on, what?” he snarled.
“K-Keep movin', oh god, keep movin', will ya?”
Soldier complied, his hips resuming the pace they had left at, pushing quick and deep into him, hand around him, stroking relentlessly. The pleasure he experienced before came sky-rocketing back into his body much more intense and threatening to succumb him. At this point Soldiers hand didn't even need to move, Engineer was rocking back and forth, pushing back hard against Soldier's thick member and thrusting into the tight channel Soldier created for him.
It was becoming too much for him to handle anymore. Heat spread like fire through his body, his knees buckling, fingers clawing at the locker door, his head blissfully empty and filled with cotton in the shape of little Soldiers. His release was so palpable he was beginning to become dizzy. Suddenly it was there and he threw his head back with a strangled groan. Shooting hotly in and around the Soldier's hand, staining the locker door, he was hit by wave after wave of his release, rocking through his body.
Even as he was milked to the last drop, Soldier pumped himself harder into him, quicker, deeper. His huffs began to form into mindless moans and groans, joining Engineer's noises of satisfaction. And suddenly he was there too – arms let go of anything it held, and wrapped around the Engineer's form, locking as he buried himself to the hilt into Engie’s body, roaring as he too found his release. Hips stuttered as he kept thrusting uncoordinated into him. He felt him hotly spilling into him, and suddenly it was all over.
They were left with the mind-numbing feeling of post-orgasmic buzzing deep in their bones. Engineer found himself leaning heavily against the Soldier's form, head rested against his broad shoulder. Fuck. He felt completely out of breath. The air he breathed was hot despite the room being cold, and it smelled of sex, leather and gunpowder, and just...him. Just him.
And he was suddenly becoming heavy. Very heavy.
“W-Whoa, hey, Soldier!” Engineer found his voice again, stabilizing himself on his feet as he noticed the Soldier was motionlessly slumping against him and threatening to squish him against the lockers. He nudged the man with his elbow until Soldier regained his consciousness.
“W-Whu – wha – ?“ he grunted.
“Don'cha fall asleep on me, Mister.” Engineer laughed, and finally faced the man again, letting his sweaty back rest against the cold locker door, and his hands holding onto Soldier's shoulders to keep him from collapsing.
“Hrm. What? No. I'm not falling asleep...” Soldier muttered, hand rubbing at his eyes beneath the helmet. Engineer's heart made a strange flop inside his chest. Had he ever thought of the soldier as endearing? Probably not. But right now, Engineer just couldn't help but laugh. His hands stroked soothingly along his sweaty skin.
“I think it's time we lie down. S'been a rough day, hm?” Standing on his toes, he pressed a quick sweet kiss to the man's lips. “Let's get dressed.”
Engineer walked past the Soldier to the pile of clothes he had discarded, sitting down on the bench. Yikes. Forgot it was still a bit sensitive there, but he managed with a grimace, cleaning himself up carelessly with his wifebeater and bundling it up. He was pulling on his underwear when he noticed Soldier seemed still a bit out of it, his fingers softly touching his lips.
“Yer okay, Sal?” he asked.
Soldier snapped out of it almost immediately. “Yessir.” he nodded quickly, and sat down on the bench next to him. Engineer offered his wifebeater as a towel for the man and he gratefully took it to rub his hands and now soft manhood clean. Tiredness took hold of him. He let his head fall onto Soldier’s broad shoulder.
Engineer didn't know what it was, but a sense of familiarity washed over him. Maybe that's why he found himself softly admitting: “Missed ya, Soldier.”
Soldier looked at him for a while. Then nodded. He didn't speak it out but Engineer was sure he felt the same.
Chapter 13: Leaving
Summary:
Hello, hello!
Remember me?As the description says, I have taken liberty to completely re-vamp this fanfic, chapter by chapter. My english has drastically improved since 2018 and i hope (emphasis on hope) that by touching this fic up, I can make this read a little less...painful pff.
I very much encourage you to go back to Chapter 1 and give it a re-read before jumping to the newest chapter! I intend on finishing this fic once and for all with the coming next three chapters. Maybe more. We'll see.
Notes:
TW: Sexual assault.
Chapter Text
“Holidays?” The Engineer furrowed his brows.
“Employee Leave Entitlement, Section B Clause 41. Almost all people classed as workers are legally entitled to 5.6 weeks' paid holiday a year.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Well, we ain’t exactly your everyday workers, he thought, but kept that to himself for now.
“You…didn’t have any of that, I assume?” a stressed line formed on Miss Pauling’s face. Engie folded his fingers in his lap, a small smile forming on his face, lopsided. Hopefully not too condescending.
“I see,” she inhaled deeply. “I suppose the Administrator saw no use in that.” Miss Pauling scribbled something down on her little note-block, and silence fell over her office once again.
She tried, he could tell. He had never seen the inside of the Administrators office, not until some weeks ago, when new contracts where laid down. Better ones, she assured – whatever that promise entailed. Benefits, insurances, all that crap. And then there was a mandatory hour-long consultation, with each member of the group, individually.
Questions about physical health, mental welfare. Words like ‘labor rights’ entered the discussion.
Labor rights. Hah. He hadn’t indulged in the normalcy of average work in, well – forever. But he knew where this was going.
She really tried. Bless her, he thought. It will be her undoing, if she continued down this path. The Administrator had warned him about what happened to people with good hearts.
The enormous stack of papers to her right seemed to grow exponentially just by looking at it too long, and Miss Pauline seemingly had aged about ten years within the span of a month. Maybe she’s just growing into the role, he reckoned.
“Look, I appreciate what yer doin’ here, but …”
But I just got back here, he wanted to add. But what use would that be? The way the woman before him avoided his gaze told him all he needed to know – she had already put her approval stamp on it and sealed his fate.
“We oughta jus’ cut to the chase now then, hm?”
Miss Pauling looked up from her scribbles. Her eyes seemed vaguely panicked at the question. With a clear of her throat, she regained composure. “It is within your right to report what happened to you. I don’t want you to ever feel like this is a matter you cannot approach me with.”
It’s not within your right to beat him into a bloody pulp, though. The words that weren’t spoken out answered his question, though.
He wasn’t fired, he knew that. No one involved would be. Mercenaries were hard to get these days, especially such loyal ones as this bunch, and risking losing one was obviously out of the question. The Administrator would come right back from the dead and twist Miss Pauling's head off if the younger woman allowed this.
So, how to approach this?
He wondered how he would solve this situation, would he be sitting in this there big armchair, a tower of paperwork looming over his shoulder. And found no good answer to that.
The nick on his throat itched. An ugly red line that one might mistake for the work of a misplaced shaving razor.
He wondered if he should tell her about those increasing spells of flashbacks he was dealing with. The nightmares that plagued him on a nightly basis. Would that change her mind? Probably not. For all he knew, telling her would just make it all worse for him.
Holidays. Yeah.
That sounded about just right.
“I’m not regrettin’ it, either.” He admitted. He really didn’t. Bastard deserved it. He doubted he’d regret it had he killed him for good, either. “Ya think that makes me a bad person?”
She looked at him. Her drifting eyes scooted along the table.
“No.” she said, and it was Miss Pauling that spoke to him then. Not the Administrator.
The Engineer smacked his thighs before standing. “A’right. Let’s get this over with then. How long?”
She seemed surprised. “I had expected you’d fight it.”
“Nah. I’m fightin’ enough as it is.” he shrugged. “S’ppose it’ll do me some good. Could take a gander at my family’s farm. S’been a while since I’ve checked it, anyway.”
She opened her drawer and retrieved some blank form, scribbling her name beneath. “Two months.”
“Two months?” he laughed. “Yer spoilin’ me.”
“I am cleaning up the mess you have caused.” Spoke the Administrator, and handed him the slip.
The workshop felt colder than ever. Alien, almost. Deprived of the old welcoming clutter of scrap metals and old machinery. The classic team had taken everything that wasn’t nailed to the floor and walls, taken all his equipment.
My blueprints, my tools. Even my goddamn pictures.
As he entered, he did his best to avoid glancing at the small bed tucked away to his right. Blood was still there, he could tell. Maybe even a tooth. He rubbed the injury at his neck.
Yeah, he decided then – this ‘holiday’ will do him some good.
The old duffle bag sat somewhere in the furthest corner of his workshop, dusty and forgotten about. Last time he used it had been a good 20 years ago. First day, he remembered fondly, recalling how excited and nervous he had been, just at the cusp of manhood, already thinking he had the world all figured out. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, huh?
His plan was to pack in silence, vanish by nightfall, and arrive in Travis County by dawn. It was a great coincidence Spy had decided to push his luck that night at the Texas located base.
He really didn't understand why these new potential buyers for the lands were so crazy for Well. The name was misleading, for there were no wells out there, just underground water channels, beneath a cargo train station. On each side, there were large distillery factories, that's why the surrounding always smelt a bit of alcohol. Even the water smelt and tasted like alcohol. Not often did it happen that one or two mercenaries left the battlefields while being mildly intoxicated, or even worse, passed out drunk in the midst of battle.
Engineer appreciated a beer or two, but mostly after lockdown and nothing of that sharp, hard stuff. So he decided to set up his gear at the intelligence, protecting it from the cheeky RED Scout who had been trying his absolute best to find just the right angle to sneak past him and his gear to grab the suitcase. He proved himself diligent and stubborn – but it takes more than being fast to beat three hundred pounds of metal and bullets. And Engineer knew that. And he knew that Scout knew that.
That's why at some point the young enemy speedster started taking on a different tactic:
“Hey Overalls! You friggin' suck! Jus' look at'chou! Sittin' around on ya fat ass lettin' your death machine do the work for ya! Yeah, a bet I can beat'cha good if ya get up here!”
Engineer wore a small smile on his face while he, very tranquilly, chose to completely blend him out.
“Yeah, that's right ya short-legged coward! Can't take on a real man, can ya?”
He didn't hear what the boy said at all, his mind blissfully filled with …other things. Strong arms. Thick fingers. Chapped lips. There was still a very nice warm buzz inside his body that made him feel like he could lift up three grown men at once.
“I bet yer don't even know how ta use a gun, lazy piece'a'shit! Unless it's a gravy-gun, eh? Come on up here, and I'll show ya how it's done!”
He couldn't help himself, he felt great. It felt like the dusty, thick fog in his mind was blown away, fog that had gathered there over more than a year, starting at the robot invasion, and growing denser when he was locked up with the Administrator. It was a strage, but pleasant feeling to be freed of said cloud.
“Oh, and another thing - Texas is friggin' terrible!"
Alright. Seems like it was time to take out the trash. Letting his hand slip into his pocket, he pulled out his Wrangler.
“Ohh, hoho! Look at that! The hardhat's takin' out his big guns! The heck's that? A universal remote?”
“Actually, yes. Yes, that's what it is. Yer a clever lil' rascal, ain'tya?” A glowing red dot skimmed across the walls, coming to a halt at the Scout's forehead.
“Y'see, this lil button here changes the volume. This button here changes the channel, and this lil’ button here –“
With a loud burst, an onslaught of bullets and rockets blasted straight for the Scout's head.
“This one’s the off button.” Engineer grinned as he watched the mushy, bloody mess that once had been the enemy scout tumble to the floor. With a satisfied smirk, he went back to polishing his equipment, thoughts somewhere completely different.
“Hey guys! Just an update – five minutes left in the mission!” Miss Pauling’s voice echoed through the room. “Oh and Engie! Nice work with the wrangler, like, damn! You owned him like a pro!”
“Administrator, yer ain't s'pposed to take sides.” Engineer called into the empty room, chuckling.
“Oh, oh jeez, you're right! Sorry fellas! Forget what I just said. Just, uh – just keep doing whatever you're doing!”
He grinned. She would get used to the job, he was sure. Eventually.
The day stretched over a few more hours. Demo came stumbling in at one point, the enemy intelligence on his back. One more to go, and the day would be over. But Wngineer believed it was very unlikely for them to win this match in record times.
For some reason RED was especially feisty today. But Engineer didn't mind.
His position may be completely out of the battle zone, but at least he wasn't standing in the heat of the sun all day, and the silence was relaxing. Just him, the softest bleeping of his sentry, and his thoughts.
He wondered if he could convince Solly to come down to his workshop today. Maybe share a beer, talk some more about their respective times away from Teufort.
Maybe he could convince him to do that nice thing with his mouth on his neck again … he thoughtfully ran his finger along the bitemark on his shoulder and shuddered slightly.
What they did there in the locker rooms... gosh, it was so scandalous. He felt like a teenager breaking the school rules. He felt so young again, like he hadn't in almost thirty years. And he wanted more. More of this feeling. More of those touches. Just more...
“Engineer.”
Engineer nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice behind him. He tumbled backwards, his backside colliding with the table that held the intelligence. He grasped it to keep it from falling off the platform.
“Soldier. Ah, jeez.” Engineer glared back at him. “Ya really gotta sneak up on me constantly?”
“Apologies, Engineer.” Soldier stood tall, arms flat against the sides of his body. “It is my job to be stealthy!”
“Is it now?” the texan pushed his hat back in order, stopped leaning awkwardly against the small table. “Yer the offense man, ain't yer job to crash in 'ere with the intel?”
Soldier flared his nostrils. “You think a Soldier only yells and storms off into the fight?!” he snarled. “I am savvy at MANY things! Gotta! While you are twiddling your thumb in here, there is a WAR going on outside! AGAIN! You either adapt, or you'll get eaten alive.”
“Well, if there's a war happenin' out 'ere ...why are ya here. then?” Engineer blinked.
Soldier tilted his head to the side. “Do you mind me being here with you?” he asked. Engineer stared at him for a short moment, then shook his head, smiling.
“Of course I don't mind. Jus' wonderin'.” he looked to the entrance, which was empty.
“I came here for you.” the Soldier said, making the tinkerer turn back to him surprised.
“Oh? Yer here ta guard the intel with lil' ol me? ”
Soldier didn't reply, just looked back at him. Odd.
“Well, yer probably gonna die of boredom though, look, there ain't much happenin' here, so I dunno if yer not of better use out there ━ “
Soldier was suddenly so close, his chest nearly touched his own. Engineer's words died in his throat as his eyes slowly followed the hem of his coat, up his throat until he looked back into the faintest hint of eyes under the heavy helmet lid. He was reminded just how much taller the man was, easily towering him by a head.
“I don't care about the intel, maggot.” he growled.
His hand wrapped around his wrist, making Engineer drop his wrench. Before he even had the time to feel an emotion other than high awareness, he was pulled into a crushing kiss. Hot, chapped lips, covered with grainy pieces of sand and gunpowder pressing against his own, moving fluidly along his own.
As vehement the approach had been, it continued much more sensual. Those two paws that held onto his wrist and shoulder now touched softly, stroked. Lips exploring, searching.
Releasing him again to mutter. “We are finally alone,” another kiss. “And I've been thinking about you. All day.”
Engineer felt himself melting almost instantly. His knees grew wobbly so swiftly, he had no choice but to hold onto the large frame of the Commando for leverage. But that was barely necessary as those large arms encircled him, cradling him. Holding him tenderly. “Haven't you?”
“I-I? Me? I ...I mean...” Engineer chuckled awkwardly. What was happening right now? Has Soldier been knocked on the head with something hard or why was he...oddly familiar today? Touching him like they were lovers for ages now? But he reminded himself; it didn't matter. It was happening either way, and it was glorious. His heart was throbbing inside his chest, like a jackhammer. He chuckled again.
“Yeah. Yer've been on my mind a'right.”
Soldier growled. He buried his face into his neck, nuzzling. Sniffing. Kissing. Then suckling on the bite he left there.
“Mmh. I like you marked, Engineer.” he purred into his skin. Gods, he was seeing stars. “Have you been thinking about me? Doing this to you?”
“Yeah...” Engineer mumbled, breathless. Then a sudden sharp inhale as Soldier's strong hips ground demanding against his own. He gave out a shaky groan at the second, longer rub of hips on him. Here? Right now? What if someone came in here now, though?
What if … Ah fuck it. Yes, here, yes, right now.
Engineer reached down between them to let his hand rub down against the man's thigh. Oh. Oh ...that was a surprise, to say the least. Had Soldier grown in the last few days? He was sure Soldier was not that, well – endowed the last time he held him in hand. Above him, Solly hissed.
“Nngh.” he moaned, grinding harder against his palm. “Ah yes. This is... oh mon dieu!“
Adrenaline shot into his brain, tingling in his ears. His hands acted before his mind could catch up. Metallic finger seized, clenched, painfully digging into the man’s genitals, he heard a man that was distinctively NOT Soldier cry out in pain. Gloved hands suddenly pushing and punching at his shoulders. Engineer's other hand grabbed the Spy by the throat, flung him around and pinned him to the table.
“Gah!! Arrête ça!! Arrête ça!! Let go!”
“I'm givin yer three seconds ta explain yerself, yer filthy rattlesnake!!”
The Spy's face contoured from pain into a smug sneer. “Tsk! So feisty all of se sudden? You seemed to enjoy it a few seconds ag-- OUGH!!” the hand around his throat tightened, pressing his Adams apple further into his scrawny neck.
“Yall got some balls to put on someone else’s hide and pretend to be 'em to get closer to me!”
“Heh. Do I?” Despite being choked and held in a tight grip down below, he wiggled his hips. Engineer pulled away in disgust.
"Ya know what we do with bulls that get a bit too cocky on us? We hogtie 'em, then castrate 'em!” Engineer's mechanic hand started swirling like a buzz saw. For good measures, he let it slide along the little table he had pinned the spy on, with sparks spraying over the french's face.
”Care fer a demonstration?”
“NON! non, stop! Stop, s'il vous plait--!”
“ALERT! The enemy has taken our intelligence!”
A flash of red moved past him, faster than his sentries could pick up.
“Too slow, chucklenuts!”
“Ah, hell.” Engineer growled. His grip eased enough for the spy to land a swift kick to his knee pits. Engineer groaned in pain, slumping to the ground. When he looked up, he was alone once more.
He should’ve reported it. The change in leadership made the Spy cockier than before. Taking certain liberties that he had not dared to quite as boldly as before.
Yet as he walked into Miss Pauling’s office that day, watching the small woman quite literally drown in unfinished paperwork, he…
He couldn’t do it.
I don’t want to bother her with this, he reasoned. His father used to say a man took care of his own business and not burden others with it. That was the right way, the American way, he had said. And so he would – taking particular care to stay close to Pyro the following days, and even closer to the others in the base.
But as most things, they came when one expected it the least.
It had been at night, when the blade was pushed against his neck, rousing him from sleep. The sickening rush of adrenaline pumping through his drowsy veins had rendered him frozen, and not that movement would’ve done him much good. “One false movement,” the voice had whispered. “And I’ll slice yeur neck open.”
The workshop was dark, not an inch of light. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes wafted into his face as the person above him spoke, so intensive, it made his eyes water.
“Who--?”
The blade was shoved further under his chin.
“Hush,” the voice urged. He was slurring, he realized, the stench of alcohol even thicker now. He’s piss-drunk, Engineer realized.
Something was painfully digging into his thigh, the weight on top of his ribcage making it hard to breathe.
“Pal,” he tried again, cautiously. “What in Sam’s hill yer think yer –“ a sudden stinging sensation caused his words to bleed into a gasp. Warmth trickled down his neck and soaking into his shirt. The undeniable smell of blood filled the cramped space. Mingling with the sharp wine and tangy tobacco.
He recognized that smell from a mile away.
“Je t'ai fait saigner. Pardonne-moi,” Spy shifted his weight, pressing further into him, pressing him down into the mattress. Before Dell could even so much as speak, something warm and wet ran along his neck, from his jawline, down his throat. The Spy's tongue. And it felt nothing short of the slithering tongue of a particcularly disgusting reptile.
A shudder of repulsion ran along his spine.
“Stop,” he said. Very calmly. Too calmly for the turmoil of fight or flight, disgust and anger inside his head.
“Non,” Spy murmured, so softly, like the purr of a kitten. “I have you now.”
Something nestled with his pants. Deft fingers untied his laces and found access. His fingers were icy cold like death, gnawing on his flesh with rushed movements. “Running away, with zat horrible shrew of a woman, no chance to say proper goodbyes.” Spy slurred on. “All alone, in ze middle of nowhere. One gets so, so lonely, non?”
Spy knew. Somehow Engie always had an inkling the Spy knew exactly what had been going on behind the scenes during the Gray Mann attack on Mann Co. This just confirmed it. If Miss Pauling found out about this, we're both losing our darn heads!
Engie begins struggling against the touch and the blade kisses his throat again.
“If I vere you, I’d be very still now.” Spy whispered, nibbling at his collarbone. “Mon amour, mon cher. ‘ave you been thinking about me? Non, of course not. All you think about is zat imbecile.”
Imbecile. He hated this word, and he especially hated when people used it to address Soldier. Spy’s hand slipped under his underwear, roughly grasping him there. His grip was filled with anger. Anger and frustration, and hatred. Piercing his skin, dragging along his hipbone, down to his soft cock, blood in its wake.
“I can change yeur mind. For a night, at least.”
“No. I – stop it now, Spook, you – Sal.”
“Oh, not to vorry about him,” Spy promised. “I’ll kill him next.”
He hears the piercing sound of the drill. Vzzz, vzzz. Soldier’s anguished cries.
“This is just me, killing you slowly,” says Grey’s female Pyro, but it’s not her, its Spy’s voice rattling out of those old speakers in the Administrator’s narrow office as he pushes the drill into Soldier’s mouth.
He hears Goliaths and robots, vzzz vzzz-ing as they tear Engie off his feet and crush him between iron fingers, and the Goliath growls, but it’s not the tinny voice of the Heavy, it is Spy’s voice growling down at him. Promising pain. Promising death.
He doesn’t hear their body’s rolling off his bed and falling to the ground with a loud thud. He doesn’t hear his fists smashing down onto Spy’s face, breaking bones and teeth. He doesn’t hear Spy’s screams in pain because he only hears Soldier’s yelps in pain and that darn fucking drill.
Vzzzzz…
He broke three fingers that night, they would tell him by sunrise. It happened so quickly, everything, the scream, their bodies tumbling from the bed, the sheets tangling their limbs, the smell of blood. The headless rise and fall of curled fists.
It took three men to pull him off. The pain set in some hours later. His hand, his good hand, was covered in blue and purple blotches. His Gunslinger was busted. His thumb dangled uselessly. When his mind was torn from his memory, he found himself standing, staring at his empty bag, for god knows how long now. This was becoming a problem. The flashbacks. The spells of diassociations...
‘I am cleaning up the mess you have caused.’
The nick in his neck itched, but once more, he did his best not to succumb to it and scratch it open. Again.
Instead, he tossed a few sets of clothes inside, essential toiletries, and zipped the bag shut.
He tossed it into the passenger side of his truck with a thud. The evening air was cold out here, the sky littered with stars. Checking his watch, he still had a good two hours until midnight. If I drive now, I’ll be there by sunrise…Now that he stood on the outside of the base, he felt like he could breathe again. And the more he breathed, the deeper a breath he took, the louder the voice of anger roared inside him.
You should’ve killed him, it said.
“If god is good ta me, I already have,” he said to himself, and laughed. He didn’t know why he laughed. But he knew laughing was better than screaming. Or crying.
He gave into the screaming, though. A loud curse tumbled from his mouth and his boot collided with the trashcans. Rattling, it went careening down the driveway, and coming to a prompt stop as it crashed into a large rock. It spat out its content onto the floor, banana peels, empty cans, bottles – he heard a tinny, distressed screech coming from inside.
Engine flinched at that. He approached, slowly, and carefully.
Two golden eyes stared back at him, wide and full of terror. A raccoon. He knew that raccoon.
“Bites?” he asked. Upon hearing its name, the furry creature crept closer. It peaked its head out, sniffed the air intently, and then slowly crawled out towards him, lowered on its haunches in submission.
“Apologies,” he sighed. “Didn’t know ya were in there,”
It shook its fuzzy brown hide and chirped. He watched the little fellow brush out its dents and tangles he suffered from his impromptu roller coaster ride. There were tire marks on him, leaving some spots almost hairless.
Poor guy.
“Y’know trash collection came this morning. Y’all aint findin’ anything good in there.”
The mammal cast him an accusatory glance, raised his snout and sniffed the air, before turning and hopping into the darkness, hot on the trail of fresher, newer trash.
If I leave now I’ll be home by sunrise – but he found himself following the critter, for some odd reason. Bites was quick, but Dell only had to follow the white and black stripes of the mammal’s tail. The raccoon tip-tapped along the base, sniffing here, marking its territory there.
It stood on its hind legs and observed movement in the shrubs. A black stray tomcat, currently busying itself with gnawing on a lizard, spied the raccoon and its follower. It raised its hackles and haunches in alarm and mewled darkly in warning. The raccoon hissed back. A short kerfuffle later, and the cat fled back into the shrubs. Bereft of its lizard.
The Engineer smirked, involuntarily. Fiercely protecting the perimeter. Like his owner, he mused.
Rounding the corner, Engie noticed a stack of old boxes, situated beneath a small opened window. He watched Bites jump up, balancing on the cardboard tower, before leaping onto the ledge and clambering up. It tossed Dell one last gaze, before it jumped and vanished.
The window was small, and Engie had to stand on his tip toes to look inside, but there he was. Bites chirped his greetings to his owner, seated at his desk, a dismantled gun before him. Soldier turned his head and grinned, picking the critter up like it was a toddler. “There he is. Lieutenant Bites, you smell as rank as an Italian.”
The critter chirped in affirmation, wiggling inside the man’s clasp. “Come to watch me break my dismantlement records?”
Engie spotted the stopwatch in Soldiers left hand.
“Spoken like a true patriot! Come, sit here!” he sat the raccoon down on the table. Engie watched the man re-assemble, and dismantle the same gun multiple times, every time accompanied by the distinct ‘click’ of the stopwatch.
Suddenly Dell felt strange, spying on the man like that. Even worse – he felt bad for following the raccoon, knowing where this was gonna lead him. I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye to him, he realized. He had done so before and realized too late he never should've. And then another, unbidden idea, worse than the one before, nearly took his breath away like a gut-punch.
He was looking for me. He told me. He was looking for me everywhere. And I am about to leave him. Again.
Darn! But if I don't leave now, I might never make it out…
“ALAAAARRM!”
Engie let out a disgracefully high-pitched squeal in fright and stumbled, backwards, over a rock.
His bottom collided with the hard floor, a plume of red dust swirling around him. He blinked hard, sand in his eyes. “Dag-nabbit!!” he cursed, rubbing at his face, blinking away the sting and blurriness – and saw the muzzle of a shotgun sticking out from the narrow window, pointed straight at him.
“BOYS! We have a Bigfoot!”
“I swear by the lord above, you’re gon’ go and give me a gosh-darn heart attack these days, Sal!”
“Sal?” Soldier seemed to falter. Not enough to lower the weapon though. “THERE IS NO SAL IN THIS BASE! NO ONE OF THIS NAME!! Hands up, where I can see them, bigfoot!” Soldier shouted, the shotgun locked and loaded, and raised high.
“Sal, it’s me.”
“What?” Soldier pushed his thick head into the small window and spied outside, regarding him. He paused. Then, however: “I KNOW YOUR TRICKS, SASQUATCH! And what a PALTRY attempt at mimic, too!”
Engineer scrunched his face against the assault on his poor eardrums at this time of day.
“If ya could just lower yer gosh-darn voice fer a second-!”
“DOES MY AMERICAN SPIRIT ACHE YOUR EARS, BIGFOOT? GOOD! State your business or suffer my wrath!!”
“I came here ta bid yer goodbye, gosh-darn-it all, and here yer are raisin’ all hell at the dead of night!!”
“Goodbye?” Soldier echoed. “GOODBYE?” he said, again, louder this time. “You think I will let you walk away, just like that!?”
“I think yer will, as a matter of fact.”
“NEGATORY! NO RED-BLOODED SOLDIER LIKE ME WILL LET A HAIRY MOTHERHUFFER LIKE YOU ESCAPE MY CLUTCHES - !”
“Sal, you plowed mah brains out not even a month ago in the locker rooms.” If that didn’t jog the man’s noggin and prove he was the real deal, he didn’t know what could.
Silence.
“Engie, there is a Bigfoot outside our base and YOU dare to stay outside?”
Engineer squinted. “The hell y'all talkin' about?”
“BIGFOOT, Engi! The biggest threat to the American woods! I saw him here, around! I informed the team to come for backup! They should arrive any second now!”
Judging by the switched out lights in the rooms, there wouldn't be anyone from the team coming so quickly.
“Bigfoot ain't real, ya moron.”
“NONSENSE! I saw one with my own eyes, right here, where you -!”
Soldier faltered. This wasn't a Bigfoot he had seen. Well, now that he considered, Engineer had very small feet for one. And significantly less hair. He slowly lowered the shotgun, the angry determined gaze on his helmeted face now melting into an irritated glower. “What are you doing here anyway, maggot? You have NO business being out here at this time!” The shotgun was pulled back into the window and out of sight. Only Soldier’s pouting face was visible in the window. “Mandatory resting time is at 2200 SHARP!”
Yeah, he though. I really have no business being out here. I should have been on the road ten minutes ago by now…
“Ya think I’ll have yer permission fer tonight to disregard sleeping hours?”
Soldier seemed to weight that question. “For what purpose?”
Engineer opened his mouth, yet before he could speak, the other raised his voice again. “Did I hear correctly you came to say goodbye?”
“I…yeah. I was.”
“GOODBYE TO WHERE?”
“I—“
‘You damn maggot. I've been looking for you. Everywhere.’
Engineer felt his throat closing up again. If I speak now I am lost, he knew. And if I turn around now, I’ll run.
“Goodbye to where?” the military man asked again, softer this time.
The only way, he knew, was going forward. “Ya mind if I come inside? S’getting right chilly out here.”
He knocked, and Soldier opened up. The room was just as he remembered, the familiar smell of grease and cigarettes and aftershave still clinging to the walls. It seemed a lifetime now, the last time he’d been in here. Body weakened by fever and half-awareness, probably bleeding all over Soldier cot.
It has been a lifetime, he realized.
Soldiers rooms where, as always, sparsely decorated and furnished. The man really needed the barest of minimum. And still, it felt like more life, more warmth, more familiarity was bundled in this very room than his workshop. It used to be their sanctuary, he remembered.
“Permission to enter,” Soldier growled.
“Thank ye kindly,” the Texan stepped in, and the door fell shut behind him. And there they were. And once again, Dell did not know how to approach him. If to approach him at all. There was an uncertainty in the air whenever he was close to the other, ever since he reappeared on the surface of the earth after a year of hiding. It was thick and viscous during their first meeting back in the base, a tension that seemed to have eased again during the following weeks.
And now?
What now?
Engineer gifted him a small smile. The other man did not. “Well.” The Engineer inhaled deeply, rubbing his hands. Where to go from here.
“I’ve seen you at Miss Paulings office today,” Soldier stated, matter-of-factly.
“Ah, we ain’t s‘pposed to call her that anymore,” Engie corrected. “She’s the Administrator now, we oughta address her as such.”
“Affirmative,” Soldier nodded. “I’ve seen you at Miss Administrator’s office today.”
“Keen eye ya got. Yeah, been givin’ her a visit.”
“Did she spout some hocus-pocus-Scandinavian laws at you as well?”
Engie laughed. “Ya got a story ta tell?”
“Last time she asked me to speak to her, she began talking about my rights under the new contracts. Paternity leave, she said. Sick days, she said.” Soldier set his jaw. “The day I will leave my post is the day they will carry my body out of this hole! The only son I have is the American freedom and I will NOT LEAVE it, I will stand and PROTECT IT.”
You have a loyal worker at your hands, Pauling, Engie smirked to himself. Better not start with talks about pension any time soon.
“Well, no. Not quite that,” Engie chuckled warmly.
“Did she suggest a headshrinker to you, too?”
Now that was something interesting.
Upon seeing his face, Soldier elaborated: “Miss Pauline suggested I take advantage of the new employee welfare benefits and have a talk with a ‘psai-colo-gest’.” He spoke the word with disdain his voice and an irritated pout. “What an UNAMERICAN occupation is that, if you can’t even SPELL IT?”
“C’mon Sal, she’s trying her best here.” He shrugged. “Gotta make the work space a bit more enjoyable these days.”
“Enjoyable? ENJOYABLE?” Soldier puffed his chest out. “THERE IS NOTHING ENJOYABLE ABOUT WAR, SON! It is our DUTY! Besides!” a smirk played along his lips. “There is no better job on this planet than painting the soil with RED scum’s blood!”
“Amen to that.”
Lieutenant Bites crawled up Soldiers slacks and shirt and roosted atop his shoulder and chirped. “Haha, you said it, Bites! Spoken like a true patriot!” Soldier rubbed his finger along the critters furred cheek. It purred and pushed its little head into his ministrations. Engineer hated to dispel the moment. Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed, almost pained.
“It’s been about what happened two days ago,”
Silence followed. Thick, and heavy between them. For some reason Dell had great difficulty looking into the others face. I’m scared of what I’ll find on there if I do.
Soldier had been the last to be informed of what happened, and what’s worse, it wasn’t even Engie himself who told him. Medic had taken the liberty to disclose the issue to Soldier the following morning, when the team readied itself for battle, with a certain cutthroat missing.
The Spy had been rather lucky that it had just been him that punched his teeth in. Had it been Soldier, the Frenchman would be nothing but a wet splash on the wall. The heated fervor with which Soldier exterminated the Spy’s on the battlefield the following day was nothing short of carnage, each kill an act of revenge, each destruction followed by colorful expletives.
It helped, temporarily.
But the feeling of the man’s cold, sharp grasp at his body and the sting of the blade were memories no rocket launcher could blast out of existence. Goosebumps prickled the back of his neck at the memory.
“She, er…well, s’ppose theres no sugarcoatin’ it.” he shrugged again. “She’s sendin’ me on temporary leave.”
He inhaled and held his breath, then counted down from three.
Three. Two…
By the count of one, the other would surely start yelling at the top of his lungs. Engie expected angry yelling, shouting down the base, stomping into the Medics office, then Miss Pauling's office, demanding answers, words like ‘un-American’, or ‘traitorous’ would fly.
“Temporary leave,” he echoed, matter-of-factly. But something told Engie that it was more of a question than a statement.
"Ah, y’know – holidays. Compulsory holidays, if you will.”
Three, two, one…
Still no yelling.
So he continued.
“Two months are planned. But…well…from her tone of voice, I assume it is extendable.”
Cleaning up the mess he had caused, those were her words. He wanted to blame her, but really – he couldn’t. He had pondered upon it and found he himself had no better idea how to handle the situation. She can’t fire me, and she can’t have me around the base either. What better way to get rid of a problem than to send it off to where no one could see it for a while.
He had a nick in the neck, a few inches away from his jugular. But Spy’s face was beaten badly enough by his fists to leave permanent, permanent, damage. That wasn’t short of a doggone miracle, considering their respawn technology.
“And, heh – well the plan was ta pack my stuff and be on my way, bout’, uh -- “ he checked his watch, “ ’Bout fifteen minutes ago now, but. I’m still here, as yer can see.”
He didn’t know what was worse. Soldier yelling, or Soldier not saying a single word.
“Saw yer lil’ Lieutenant there, and thought I oughta give him an escort back and, yeah, that’s how I ended up outside at this time of day. S-Since yer asked n’ all.” he was rambling now, he knew. But he couldn’t stop himself either.
Anything to draw out the inevitable, Conagher.
“And then I realized, hey. I didn’t even come and went to say goodbye to ya, since last time I vanished yer were up and out, searchin’ all over fer me, and I didn’t wanna put yer through THAT mess again, and –“
“Where are you heading to?” Soldier asked.
Home, he wanted to say. But the old farm his parents had left him hadn’t been his home for twenty years now.
This was his home.
“Ah, y’know. South. The South of South, ya could say,” Dell chuckled, pushing his thumbs into his pockets.
Soldier’s posture gave nothing away. Dell could not tell if those news angered, saddened or afflicted the man before him in any way.
“Guess it’s the best solution, considerin’ what…transpired. And its bout high time I oughta check on my ol’ folks hideout anyway. Prolly gonna have to rework the paint, mow the lawn, cut back some of the ol’ appletrees –“
“Private, you are a coward.”
Engie blinked. “Beg yer pardon?”
“YOU HEARD ME!” The soldier hollered. “Abandoning post at the heat of the moment! That is what CHILDREN and FRENCH people do!” Lieutenant Bites startled and jumped off his shoulder.
“I – Soldier, I’m jus’ as unenthusiastic about this as you are but -- ”
“Did she offer this to you, or did she command you to take it?”
That…was a good question.
She had expected him to fight it, and he didn’t. He knew fighting against bureaucracy was as effective as fighting windmills.
“Command, I s’ppose –“
“You take no commands from anyone, EXCEPT FROM ME!” Soldier hollered. “You will go into that office come morning and you will revoke—“
“Fine, FINE!” Engie groaned. “She offered it to me, okay? She offered, and I took it. Happy?” For some reason, this bravado was intensely vexing the Engineer tonight.
Soldier’s jaw went slack. “You – YOU WILLINGLY ACCEPT RETREAT?”
“Now listen to me, this ain’t about retreatin’, it’s –!“
“SHE SHOULD BE SHIPPING THE FROG AWAY INSTEAD OF YOU!”
On that account, at least, they agreed.
“I beat his face to mush, Sal! I’m lucky I can leave this here base without gosh-darn handcuffs ‘round my hands!””
“I would not allow it!!”
“Sal.”
“NO NEGOTIATIONS!”
Engie threw his hands up in defeat.
“Ya know what Sal? Yes. Yes, yer goddamn right. She SHOULD send the Spy away, instead of me. But she won’t, and you know why? Cuz she can’t fire either of us. Not you, not me, not the spook. The only darn thing she can do is send us in two different directions, hopin’ the issue will settle itself with time passin’.”
“THEN SHE IS A COWARD, TOO!”
“A’right, fine, tell me then, son - Do YER have any better idea?!”
The man opened his mouth. Closed it again, Opened it again, wider – closed it again. The military man set his jaw, grinding his teeth as he pondered. But when no answer followed, Engie sighed, and rubbed his neck. “Yeah. Thought so,”
“I would—I would’ve—“ Soldier ground his teeth with frustration. “I WOULDN’T HAVE LET IT COME TO THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE.”
“Wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Don’t matter what could’ve or would’ve been done. It happened.”
But this only seemed to anger the military man even further.
“THIS! This is the reason you are a coward! You accept, you let it pass! You have no FIGHT! You have no WILL! I had expected more DRIVE from you!”
“You—now hold on just one darn second there, Mister!” The engineer pushed his pointed finger into the Soldier’s chest. “Yer not pushin’ the blame on ME now, are you?!”
“NO!!”
“Then don’t yer go and say things like that to me!” Why were they arguing, he thought. Why now, after two years of not seeing each other, and they were yelling at each other again.
“YOU WERE ASSAULTED, HARDHAT!!” the man’s voice pierced through skin and bone and concrete walls alike. He was barely a few steps away from him now, looming over him. ”ASSAULTED! IN MY BASE! Under MY protection! Under MY watchful eye! And it STILL HAPPENED!” Soldier’s hands curled tightly into fists, his knuckles protruding and turning white under the strain.
Someone slammed their fists against the wall. Muffled complaints were growled from the other rooms.
His words were still ringing in his ear when the shouting was replaced by labored breathing and the rush of thoughts swirling inside his head. He’s beating himself up over it, Engie realized with a pang in his heart that threatened to unman him. All this paranoia, all those precautions, all those ridiculous protocols of safety he followed – and it still happened. But this was an enemy even Soldier couldn’t fight.
If I speak now I am lost, he knew. And if I turn around now, I’ll run. The only way was forwards.
Engineer took his hand in his. It was cold, and trembling, and the palm was covered in a thin layer of sweat. But he held it, tightly, nevertheless.
“Come with me,” he said.
They crossed San Angelo and Soldier was out like a light. Helmet drooping over the bridge of his crooked nose, arms crossed over his broad chest, his body swayed against the passenger’s side door with every bump in the road.
Engie’s sparse luggage was securely stored between Soldiers feet. The man himself brought even less. The clothes on his back, his shotgun - And Lieutenant Bites, naturally. The critter had tucked its head into the crook of Soldier’s neck, tail curled around its rotund body.
He wondered how Pauline would react when she found out. Goody-two-shoes Engie, absconding with the second strongest merc in the team, like two teenagers escaping town.
‘Come with me,’ Dell had asked him. Soldier had hesitated, shock and uncertainty painted boldly across his body.
What am I doing, he had thought. Had he REALLY expected the man to jump at the proposal, throwing his arms around his shoulder, cheesy one-liners about 'taking him out of this town' on his lips, like in those terrible romance movies? Of course not.
I can’t just take him with me. I can’t just expect to drag him along and into my own predicaments. His hand loosened his grasp on Soldiers hand again.
When he let go of him, he knew.
Engie turned on his heel and walked towards the door. “I getcha. Jus’… Jus’ let Medic and Pyro know, will ya. They’ll worry their head off.” He had saluted, weakly. Half-heartedly. And then he left.
A cold wind bristles through the sand around his feet, and into his shirt and jeans. Somewhere, a lonely coyote howled. The night was cold and there was rain coming, he could smell it in the air. Better get going now, before a storm comes, he mused, checking the air in his tires. A wind picked up, howling lowly through the canyons. His eyes were burning. Darn sand, he growled and rubbed at his face.
He tried his best not to let his mind dwell on the rejection he just received, and instead began forming a list of chores that would await him when he arrived home. His parents left him with a farm he never tended to. There was an unwritten agreement that whatever livestock survived his late mother, it would go to his neighbors, and they would in turn watch over the property for any real estate vultures out there. How well that arrangement worked, he would find out come morning.
I wonder if they still got that pretty gelding momma bought before I left. It had been a stoic young, brown and white patterned colt when he departed. It had to be old by now, grown up. Maybe with some sweet-talking he could get him back on his farm. Distract his mind from one strong-willed character with another strong-willed one.
Maybe I get some restful sleep there, too, he mused. Maybe the rural Texan air would clear his head, finally. Maybe distance to everything around him would make the nightmares stop. Engie stood, opened the door of his truck, and settled into the seat behind the steering well. The door snapped shut.
Bang bang!
Engineer jumped, his knees colliding painfully with the dashboard. “Fuck!” he blurted out, turning his head – a wall of solid muscles clad in white fabric stood before his window.
“Daggit, nabbit, dang-dabbit, Sal, my heart can’t TAKE yer shenanigans much more!”
“Exit the vehicle.” The man commanded.
Huh?
“Why? Came here ta kiss me goodbye?” Engie sneered, hoping to make the man at least a little bit uncomfortable.
Instead, Soldier’s stoic expression hardened. “Exit this vehicle now, civilian.”
The mechanic groaned into his palms, but obliged, opening the driver’s side and staggering out, his shins still smarting.
“What is it now?”
“I did not give you permission to leave my perimeter, yet.”
Good Night, Irene, not this again…He didn’t have the mental energy, nor the time really, to debate with him any further.
“I don’t need yer darn permission.”
“Is this am OPEN DEFIANCE of --!?”
“What’cha planning on doing then, hm?” Engie crossed his arms. “Drag me back inside?”
The Soldier stood there, arms behind his back, seemingly pondering that option for a moment or two.
“Look,” Engie rubbed at his brows, feeling a headache approaching. “Ugh. Jus’ – how about we forget we ever had this conversation, aight? G’night, Sal.”
“Private gearpants, you are NOT dismissed.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waved his hands dismissively. “See ya in a few months.”
He was grabbed, and flung around with such suddenness and force, it threatened to swipe him off his feet. Hand going for his caliber hidden in his back pocket, he suddenly found himself face to face with the Commando, their noses just a few inches apart, two large strong hands grasping his shoulders. For a moment, he didn’t dare drawing a breath.
This close, Engie could smell the familiar scent that clung to the Soldier’s skin. The salt of his sweat, leather, gunpowder, the stark, tangy smell of nicotine, the spice of aftershave. A pleasant smell. A smell that used to send tingles from the top of his head down to his toes.
Maybe he is going to drag me back inside, after all, what with that angry scowl on his face, Engie figured. Instead, he felt a large warm digit, rubbing along the expanse of his neck, up his jugular, and just beneath his jawbone. There, where the Spy had cut him. The touch was slow, gentle, and uncertain. There was a kind of sadness in this contact, unspoken words hanging between them that he knew would never be said out loud.
The Engineer lowered his hand from his gun and let it drop to his side in silent defeat.
“Yer needn’t beat yerself up over it, Sal.” He offered gently. The man’s jaw squared, he could hear his teeth grinding together. The pad of his thumb had traced the injury in its entirety, and now came to a stop at his pulse. He felt his own heartbeat, gently drumming against his finger. Thump. Thump. Thump.
After a moment or two of this, he gave Soldier’s sturdy ribs a pat. “Look, yer bein’ awfully sweet right about now, but I’ll have ta be on the road now, else I’m never gon’--“
The helmet clanked awkwardly against the top of his skull when Soldier leaned in. Rushed, and gracelessly, just as he remembered him. His lips were warm and dry and tasted of stale tobacco.
The last few times this happened, it was always a little stiff, a little formless, he likened it to two rocks, clanking together. He could be so much gentler, so much sweeter, Engie knew he could - he had witnessed it. In Soldiers mind, a kiss seemed to be executed as strategically as placing a marker on a map. When Engineer tilted his head, he knew the kiss would grow softer and less tense. And if he did that, then he knew he was truly lost.
Soldier noticed his hesitation. On top of the tense press of his lips, his whole body seemed to become taut and insecure, and when he drew away, it felt like a hole, opening up in the tinkerer's chest.
Ah, hell.
The air was cold, but Soldiers body against him was warm and steadfast like a bolder. Both hands around his neck and on his tiptoes, he held onto him for a while. Just as he predicted, when he tilted his head just that, and let his fingers slide up the Commando’s nape just like that, Soldier seemed to relax again, clenching his fist around the back of Engie’s shirt. Not letting go.
After what could’ve been hours, or mere minutes, Engie drew away, wondering how he had ended up in this predicament. How in Sam’s Hill was he going to leave him now…? Soldier placed his hand on his neck and drew their heads together, helmet against Dell’s forehead. He seemed to want to say something, but whatever it was, he did not speak them out loudly.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Engie chuckled, warm and low in his chest. A sad little laughter that only opened the crevices of doubt in his mind wider. “Can’t jus’ run off now, can I?”
“You will do no such thing, Private.” Soldier growled. “Not on my watch.”
Engineer was surprised to find that Soldier was not dragging him back inside the base by the collar, nor was Soldier heading back to his domiciles. He climbed into the passenger side of Dell’s ol’ Betsy. “I…I thought yer said I ain’t dismissed.”
“I said that you are to stay within my perimeter,” Soldier retorted, fighting with the seatbelt. “Therefore, I am taking my perimeter with you.”
Engie gawked owlishly at the man. Before openly guffawing, his voice carrying through the canyon. Good night Irene! He was never going to get over Soldier’s outlandishly ridiculous explanations and justifications. He laughed so hard there were tears in his eyes. Darn sand!
He ran his hand along his shortened hairline. “Yer got it, pardner.” He chuckled. Better not argue, he thought, lest he’d go and change his mind again.
Engie cast a glance at the man next to him, smiling at the memory. In the end, Soldier did not change his mind. He turned on the radio, listening to the very soft muffled melody through the speakers.
Pack yourself a toothbrush, dear. Grab yourself a favorite blouse.
Take a withdrawal slip, take all of your savings out.
Cuz if we don’t leave this town, we might never make it out…
Chapter 14: Coming Home
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
As Engie predicted, they arrive in Bee Cave when the sun begins to rise in the far horizon and the sky turns into soft blue and orange hues. The mornings In Texas were always the most beautiful, his Momma used to say, and she was right. Once he gives Soldier a nudge that rouses him from his sleep, the military man couldn’t unglue his face from the window as they pass wide expanse of golden pastures.
“How’s that fer western flair, Soldier-boy?” Engie grinned.
“There seems to be more cattle than people here.” Soldier said, nose pressed to the window.
“Well, they say everything’s bigger in Texas.”
Conagher’s old farm was situated in a cozy little alcove formed by a group of old, huge trees that were already old and huge when Dell was still a boy. The farmhouse was flanked by two barns, one for crops, the other for cattle. When Dell had left to join Mann Co, neither had been used for either of these things.
His father was too old, and so was his mother, and with him out of the house, they were left with a few stud horses. Nowadays not even that remained here.
The house was entirely surrounded by agriculture. Dell remembered being woken up in the early hours by the roaring engines of the combines and trucks passing by. He had guessed correctly as to the state of the house – it was still as beautiful as ever, if not a bit abandoned-looking. The pretty ivory and rust-brown hues were chipped away, revealing the old wood beneath. I’ll have to tend to that, he thought.
“Well, here we are,” Dell rolled his truck down the beaten in path and came to a halt in the yellow grass before exiting. Soldier followed, Lieutenant Bites groggily clawing into his shirt to keep its balance on Soldier’s wide shoulder.
The Engineer breathed in the air – warm soil, cow dung, burned wood. Yep, he was home alright. He fished his keys from his jeans and fumbled for the right one. “Right then, if’n ol’ Joel next street over kept his promise ta tend to this ol’ shag while I’ve been off, I’mma give yer a lil’ tour round the property. Shed over there’s where we store firewood. I reckon the old man’s been takin’ some in fer himself over the years. Mah workshops right there,” he points to the old garage, looking worse for wear since he last seen it. Hope momma didn’t turn it into a chicken coop, he thought.
“That there’s the outhouse, if’n yer, uhh – well, old-fashioned.” He couldn’t believe out of all the things THIS piece of garbage survived it all.
“That there’s a creek, behind the tree line, runs down to the lake over there.” He’d have to show Soldier the lake later, show him the place where Engie and his grandfather used to spend long summer days, hunting and fishing.
They stomped up to the front door. “Right, and here we are.” Engie slotted the key into the hole, turned – and found the door shut tightly. He tried it again, and found the door not moving even an inch.
“Heh,” Engie grinned awkwardly. “Yeah, this ol’ thing’s a bit stubborn.” He grunts as he leans his full body-weight against the door.
“Out of the way, sugar-puff,” Soldier snarls, and Engie is shoved aside in order to accommodate Soldier’s bulk on the tiny front porch. He curls his hand around the knob, and gives it a shove. Nothing.
A fine trickle of dust comes raining down onto Engie’s bare head, and looking up, he sees just how old and distorted the wooden frame had become. Oughta repair that, too.
“Well, no worries then, we still got the back entrance. Better give it a rest now, before –“
“You listen to me now, you wooden sissy!” Soldier growls against the door. “If you DO NOT give in right this instant!!” And he gives it another shove.
Crash!
The old rusty hinges stood no chance against Soldier’s vehement body and buckled under him, and so did the door. It cracked, and Soldier, baffled, and still holding half of a door in his hand, crashes face-first into the old Conagher farmhouse.
“Ah, shoot! Yer okay, Sal?” Engie stumbles inside and grabs the man by the arm. He gives the room a quick look-over.
“Yessir!” Soldier gets back to his feet and salutes. His hand is still wrapped around the door handle. “I gained us entrance, Engie!”
“Yeah,” Engie rubbed his neck, staring at the opened doorway. “And half of Bee Cave’s critter populations as well.”
“Do not fear, professor! Lieutenant Bites will defend this entrance with his life. Isn’t that right, Lieutenant Bites? Ouch!”
The raccoon bit Soldier’s finger before jumping off his shoulders and scurrying into the living room. He’ll have to fix that door this evening, he reckoned.
Before him, memories of his youth comes flooding into his mind. The old corridor with his Pop’s picture hanging on the wall. The soft buzzing of the old electric meter. Glancing down the entrance hall, he catches glimpses of the living room. The old couch was still there, so is Dad’s old armchair. The old TV set was untouched. The fireplace had long gone cold.
It felt almost like he never really left. Aside from the thick layer of dust that had settled on every surface and the silence that replaces his mother’s cheerful Texan drawl, it almost did feel like he had just left for a few hours.
His heart swells painfully.
“Well,” he smiles at Soldier. “Welcome home.”
He toes his feet out of his shoes and indicates for Soldier to follow. “A’right, lemme show yer ‘round. This there’s the living room, doubt the TV still works, but yer free ta try! This there over yonder’s the dining room an’ kitchen, bathroom’s on the left. C’mon Sal, don’t be a stranger – ye can take yer shoes off.”
Soldier’s shoulders squared.
“…My boots are shiny and in no need of cleaning, thank you very much.” He retorts. Engineer stares at him until it clicks. He can’t even drop this whole Soldier-attitude here, hm? He doesn’t want to laugh, but he can’t fight the soft chuckle.
“Yer not s’pposed ta clean ‘em. I wan’cha ta git comfortable. Mi casa es su casa.”
“Me what now?“
“Jus’,” Engie points at his boots. “Get em off, a’ight?”
Soldier seems to hesitate for a moment before following Engie’s words. He stores them neatly next to Dell’s.
They go up the old staircase and into the upper floor. “Well, yer gon’ see mah ol’ room now.” Engie pushed open the door, revealing a small room, filled to the brim with books, folders and trophies. There was a small desk, equally filled with books about advanced physics and mathematics, pencils and diagrams of forgotten projects. His old tool-set was still there, he found with relief.
“Darn,” he flushed with slight embarrassment. Luckily his team had never picked up the habit of calling Engie a nerd. He heard that word all throughout his highschool years and absolutely hated it. Now, however? Yeah, he could see what people saw. “Heh, err, well I had planned on tidyin’ out all this.”
“I have never seen so many books in one place,” Soldier admitted. “Have you read every single one?”
“Heck no,” Engie shook his head. “I’d still be out here readin’ if I did.”
“Does any of these books here explain how to win a war, too?” Soldier asked, peeking his head into the room with caution, like each and every book in here was a bomb and he had to tread with greatest care not to flatten the whole premise.
“Err. Well. I think I got a copy of Sun Tzu somewhere ‘round here.” He closed the room again. “Anyway, second bathrooms down and the right, can’t miss it. Yer can pick which bedroom ya want fer yerself, we got plenty.”
Opening the door to show Soldier the vacant rooms that were either guest domiciles or once belonged to Grandpa Conagher was just as strange of an experience. Momma had cleaned these out for good, leaving them bare, aside from a desk, a wardrobe and a single bed. Soldier oughta love this.
“Get yerself settled. I’mma head down to the laundry room and see if I can find us some fresh sheets.”
When he returns, he finds the Soldier had rearranged the room to his likings – curtains drawn shut (Seems like open windows made the man nervous), the bed was pulled to the other side of the room and facing the door, Soldier’s shotgun rested on the desk, ready to be used when necessary.
“Got’cha some new pillows and blankets.” He announces and places them on the desk next to Soldier’s bed. “Ain’t the freshest but I jus’ ran out of detergent. Didn’t know that stuff could go bad, actually –“
“This was your sister’s room?” Soldier asks all of the sudden and Dell froze up.
“Keen eye ya got.” Engie says and tries to sound casual. “What gave it away, hm?”
To his surprise, Soldier picked up an old picture and held it in his direction. Engie took it and looked down at it. The borders were yellowed from cigarette smoke, it had been torn and re-attached in the middle.
“She looks like you, but taller and in a dress. And with a wig.” Soldier states, and Dell, despite the lump in his throat, laughs softly. “Yeah. Momma used ta say the same ‘bout me and Gloria when she…”
He paused then. He hadn’t thought about her in ages, it seems. May be for the best, but …
“Ah, nevermind,” Engie lets the picture slip into his pocket. “How’s we go n’ grab us some breakfast, hm?”
When Engie had warned the Administrator about the team not surviving out there without their job at Mann Co, Dell had mostly had Soldier in mind. How the hell would Solly be able to live among, well …normal people?
He didn’t have to wonder any more. Turns out it was about as difficult as he had suspected.
Soldier refused to ditch his helmet, yet Engie could convince him to keep his gun at home. “Folks ain’t takin’ too kindly to people openly carrying down here,” he had warned.
“I am not here to be kind, professor, I am here to protect us from any suspicious individuals.”
“Such as?”
Soldier had creased his face. “Spies,” he muttered like the word alone was something bitter on his tongue.
Dell warned him that Spies would be about the last thing they’d find down here and by far not the worst of it. First day out of Teufort and Dell would not have Soldier shot by some trigger-happy redneck.
Thus, he obliged, but only once Engie showed him his own gun, discreetly concealed under his flannel shirt.
They parked at the local supermarket, a tiny old thing with tinier and older people working there. Soldier halted before the door and glanced at the nauseating amounts of stickers, signs and advertisements plastered all over the window panes.
“C’mon, let’s get inside.”
“I will wait outside and guard it.” Soldier said, hands clasped behind his back. “
“They have honey, yknow? Locally farmed, too.”
“…I shall take guard duty inside the shop.”
Shopping after years of food and essential items being provided by the company was, well…strange. A strange, almost unfamiliar experience the tinkerer had to re-learn to manage. Luckily he thought about putting together a proper grocery list before they departed.
A glance up at Soldier, on the other hand, told Engie that he probably had never set foot into a facility quite like this. His shoulders were taut, his jaw nervously grinding – people looked up and gave him strange glances before turning their attention back to shopping.
Veterans out here were a rarity.
Veterans in uniforms were even rarer.
And a man like Soldier, oversized helmet perched atop head, combat boots and slacks, looking like a deer in headlight, must’ve been a first-timer for most here.
Engie coughed. “Ahem, err, well, this way, Sal.”
If the concept of advertisement confused the man, money-managing seemed the next most confusing thing for him. Engie already knew all of Soldier’s finances flowed into Teuforts orphanage and animal shelters, so naturally Soldier was unaware that he could not, in fact, take their entire stock of honey. “If we buy all their honey now, we will not have to leave base for the coming five months,” Soldier argued, but Engineer could practically hear his purse groaning at his arguments.
“I ain’t gonna take their entire stock, Sal. Honey’s darn expensive! Yer can take three jars and that’ll be it.”
Watching the man pout like a child made him squeeze his lips together as to not start laughing again.
“Dell?”
Engie turned his head. There was an old woman before him, huge glasses perched on top of her curled, white hair. She was small, smaller than him, hunched, leaning her weight on her small shopping card. He must’ve known her, if she knew his name. But searching her features, no memories came to his mind.
“Is that really you?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you in….oh, it must be twenty years now.”
“That’s me,” he blinked.
“Ah, forgive me, you probably don’t recognize me,” she stretched her hand in his direction.
“Lanwick. I was a friend of your mother.”
Ohh, right. He may not remember her face, but the name did ring a bell.
“Missus Lanwick, yeah, Momma told me ‘bout yer. Ye two were at the, uh, what was it again…?”
The old lady chuckled. “Miss Lanwick.” She corrected. “We were part of the congregation choir.”
“Right, I remember now.”
He didn’t. Despite being born and raised with Christian values, he had spent maybe a handful of hours inside a church or at a service. Momma always disapproved of it, but her preaching and threats of eternal damnation were no match to Dell’s obsession with all things mechanical. He didn’t remember when she had accepted that her son, her only son, was a man of science rather than a man of god.
“Dear, you have grown since last I saw you,” she said. “You look good. A bit underfed, maybe. I don’t quite remember what Donna told me about that company you’re working for, but I hope they are feeding you at least.”
“They take care of me,” he lied and felt bad about doing so. But what could he do?
“So, what brings you back here to good ol’ Bee Cave, hon?”
“Oh, err –“ Dell looked about, hoping to find Soldier. The man was gone, vanished between the aisles of food and toiletries, and that was probably not a good thing, but darn social etiquette for not allowing people to just leave conversations right away –
“Well, been doing some overtime. Figured better send me off fer som’ holidays before they have ta cash me out.”
The lady laughed, and Dell’s eyes nervously scanned the surroundings. Darn it, where was he?
“You’re back at Donna’s house, no? It’s good to have a Conagher back in there. I know you have your neighbors taking care of it since your mother’s gone, but it’s such a lovely house – would’ve been a shame if it was abandoned, or gods beware, auctioned off. That house was made to be lived in, Dell. It’s a family house.”
He could swear he just saw the top of a gray helmet swaying around aisle nine.
“You wouldn’t happen to be looking for a gal now that you’re here?”
“What?”
Dell blinked back at her, completely taken aback.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I hope I’m not being too forward. I assumed since that relationship with your previous girl didn’t work out…”
Engie glanced down at the box he was holding. Detergent stood there, the corner was slightly rubbed off, and fine white dust came drizzling out.
“How old are you now, hon?”
“Thirty nine.” He retorted.
Lanwick seemed to think that one over. “Well, not too late to fill that ol’ Conagher farm with some kids, hm? Tell you what, I have a niece, pretty little thing, just twenty-six years. Brown doe eyes – you’d love her, really. She’s a great cook too. I could bring her to-“
“Engie, look what I found!”
Soldier’s voice was like an answer to a prayer. The Engineer turned and saw a box of grapefruit-flavored BONK!’s in his arm. Soldier already had opened two, sipping on a third.
“Sal, dagnabbit, you gotta pay before drinkin’ that.”
“Says who?” Soldier scowled. “There are NO SIGNS that specifically prohibit consumption before payment.”
“It’s basic shopping etiquette, dummy!” Engie took the half-opened box. “How many did yer drink?”
“Ten.”
“What?!”
“Ten cans!” Soldier’s left hand was shaking slightly. “Also one jar of honey. Also this here. It says Butterfinger. But there are no fingers in there. Just chocolate. These Bolshevistic candies are deceiving us with FALSE naming, Engie!”
“Fantastic.” Dell rubbed his forehead. He’d have to pay for all of this.
“And who is this young man?” Lanwick gave the Engineer’s shoulder a nudge. Oh crap.
“O-Oh, uh, err.” Engie looked between Soldier and the old lady, unsure where to even start. “Right, uh, Miss Lanwick, this is my colleague. Sal, this is uh, Miss Lanwick, a friend of my mother.”
“A colleague?” the woman looked the taller man up and down. “Dell, hon, your mother never told me you’re working for the military.”
“Not the military, civilian.” Soldier straightened his posture. “We are employed at the Ma—“
Engie swiftly put his hand up to Soldier’s mouth. “Marine Corps.” He finished the sentence, a shaking grin on his face.
“Oh? My, my. Well, I shouldn’t be surprised, Donna said you were quite interested in mechanical engineering ever since you could hold a hammer. He’ll bring it far, she used to say. He reads a lot. Too much, sometimes. If only I could make him take interested in the bible, too.” She laughed again.
This was awkward.
“Where were you stationed?”
“New M—“
“New York,” Engie quickly filled in.
“Ohh, exciting.” Landwick gave Soldier a glance. “You’re not local, hm?”
“No Ma’am. Midwest bred and born.”
“Yer a long way from home, honey.” She smiled warmly at the man. “Yer missin’ family? Yer wife, kids?”
“No wife, Ma’am.” Soldier responded.
Lanwick’s face seemed to narrow at that. Her dark eyes shifted from Soldier over to Engie. To Soldier, then back to Engie. He could practically hear those old cobwebbed rusty cogs in her head twisting and turning.
“Oh. And you two are off duty, yes?”
“Y-Yeah, uh, well. I thought I’d take good ol’ Solly here with me ta see Bee Cave before we go, err, back to sea. Introduce him to the Southern charms n’ all that.”
A hint of wariness flew across the old woman’s features. “And you’re both staying at Donna’s house then?”
Engie nodded.
“Interesting…” She suddenly didn’t seem as warm and friendly as before. “Well, Dell, it was nice seeing you again. Let me write down my niece’s number for you, for whenever you’ve,” and she gave Soldier a side-glance. “Changed your mind.”
She turned, pushing her cart through the shop and out of eyesight. Dell stared down at the card she had pushed into his hand.
“Nice Lady,” Soldier commented.
Yeah. And come morning, half the town would know Conagher’s farm was suspiciously occupied by two unwed men. Doing god knows what god-defying things in there. Defiling the Conagher name. That’s how nice that old crow was.
“I wish I was dead.”
“What’s that?” Soldier asked.
“I said I love this bread,” and Engie grabbed the closest bag of toast his hands could reach and tossed it into the cart. “C’mon, Sal. Shoppin’s over.”
Soldier was afraid of horses. That was either the funniest thing on earth or about the saddest, coming from Dell’s perspective where horse-breeding had been a big part of his life.
The gelding was still there. Old, of course, and skirting its twentieth birthday. It had big, brown eyes, just as he remembered. The fire that was there when it was still a colt had died out long ago. Now he glanced back at the Engineer with large, brown, weeping eyes that still twinkled with certain mischief, even at its age.
“They dun’ usually live that long,” Ol’ Joel had explained to him. “Shoulda oughta sold him, but I remember how much yer momma loved that ol’ bastard. Eh. Wouldn’t have made much profit with him anyway. Your father took his jewels, the coyotes his left leg.”
Dell was secretly glad ol’ Joel didn’t sell him. Or worse, shoot the horse. Instead, the old man had attempted to create a prosthesis that kept the animal standing upright. It was made of wood and looked absolutely ridiculous on that proud and proper horse he remembered from his youth.
Gonna make him a proper prosthesis then, Engie thought.
Ol’ Joel was the oldest man, aside from Redmond and Blutarch, that Dell had ever met. Somehow he was also the fittest old man he had ever met in his life. His coarse black hair was receding on top of his head and even through the dark skin Dell could see the age marks littering his forehead and his arms and hands, hands there were calloused from years of manual labor not even Engie could compete with.
Somehow surviving all his children and wife, the old man lived alone on the property adjacent to Conagher’s farm house, and he had been old even when Dell was a child. Some considered him a crazy old hermit, but even Fred Conagher knew the man was a good and honest, working man, thus employing him on their property for all sorts of handiwork.
It only came naturally that Ol’ Joel took over Conagher’s farm the moment Dell’s mother died.
“Yer wouldn’t believe how many of these real-estate people came and went,” he grumbled. “Offered me a fortune, but I said, no, this there property will stay jus’ the way it is. Take yer stinkin’ money elsewhere.”
Soldier stared at the horse with caution, not saying a word, not moving a muscle. Dell knew the man was afraid of the animal, even when Soldier hid it perfectly.
It didn’t help that it seemed to take a keen interest in Soldier’s helmet. It leaned its big head and sniffed and mouthed and nibbled at Soldier’s helmet and the poor guy didn’t know whether to strike or flee, so he just stood there tried leaning his head as far away as his neck allowed. But the horse’s neck was longer.
“When your Momma came up that there street and asked me ta keep an eye out, I said ‘Donna, don’t yer even worry none, I’mma be watchin’ yer house like it’s my very own.’ And as yer can see, I held onto that promise.”
Soldier made the softest noise of distress as the horse began chewing on the straps of his helmet.
“Right. Thank yer tons, Joel.” Dell took the reins in his hand and gave the horse a soft jerk. It blinked at him owlishly, and Soldier seemed to relax. “I wouldn’t know how ta pay yer back.”
“Yer could start by tellin’ that ol’ wench Maggie down the road ta stop pesterin’ me bout retirement homes.” Ol’ Joel harrumphed. “I tell her, ‘Maggie’, I said, ‘there ain’t no way yer getting’ me off this here property, so god help me. I was born on this land, my sons were born on this land, and so I’mma die on this land, as well –“
“Keep your pinko teeth away from my gear!”
They turned their heads and saw Soldier struggling to free his shirt from the equestrian’s mouth. It tugged at it, demandingly, covering Soldier’s previously white shirt in horse-slobber.
“Down, boy.” Dell gave the reins another jerk, and the animal let go at once, glancing innocently at the two Texans.
“Ol’ bastard loves yer.” Ol’ Joel laughed. Soldier grimaced, glancing down at the wet spot on his clothes.
“I mean it, Joel. Yer need anythin’, I’mma get it done fer ya. That’s the least I can do.”
Joel seemed to think that over, before saying. “Well, Donna told me yer in the engineerin’ side nowadays? If’n yer keen on helpin’ out, I could need a set of hands ta take a look at ma ol’ truck.”
“Absolutely! Lemme grab mah gear.”
The afternoon was spent at Joel’s property, with Engineer lying flat on his back under the old truck. Soldier couldn’t see what the Texan was doing there exactly, but each time he wiggled from under the car, he looked dirtier, but happier.
“Screwdriver,” he instructed and Soldier rummaged through the tool box. “The bigger one. Yep, that’s the one.”
The sun was beating down on them now and Soldier felt it. He could withstand any weather. Hot, cold, burning or freezing, it did not matter to him. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple and into his shirt.
Engie, on the other hand, soaked through his shirt quickly. When he took a break from tinkering on the car, he stretched, the bones in his spine clicking. Then he shed his flannel to mop up the sweat gathering on his forehead, leaving him in his taut, white shirt.
Soldier stared at him, covered in dirt, spots of oil and cheeks flushed from the physical strain of working on his back in this heat. Dell catches him staring and grins.
“I look like crap, don’t I?” he joked.
“Negatory! Soldier shouts. “These are the fruits of you labor, grease monkey! Appreciate them! You EARNED THEM! Do not EVER feel ashamed of it-!”
“Sal, hush!” Dell looks alarmed, “Yer gon’ go and wake up the entire neighborhood.”
On cue, the door to Joel’s house opened and the old man comes out, a tray in hand. “Y’all needin’ some refreshments? Fixed us up som’ lemonade, freshly squeezed.” The tall glasses clinked softly with the ice cubes inside. Engie smiled.
“That’s awfully kind of yer.” He hands one to Soldier, who gladly took it and gulped it down in one, two swift gulps.
“Y’all makin’ progress on the truck?”
“Sir, yessir!” Soldier answers, saluting, glass still in hand. A piece of sliced lemon drops from the tumbler and sticks onto his helmet.
“Looks like the fuse burned through. Jus’ happen to have one lyin’ round, should be workin’ lean now. Oh, and gave it a lube change, since I’m already at it.”
“Son, you are a true and honest life saver, ye are.”
“Ah, it’s nuthin’! Yer lucky I brought mah apprentice with me,” he gave Soldier a pat on the shoulder.
Ol’ Joel glanced at the taller man.
“Yer a strong fellow. Lemme guess. Military family?”
“Yessir.”
The Engineer looked surprised. He knew Soldier was, well, a Soldier – he wasn’t aware he came from a line of Soldiers, too.
Ol’ Joel smiled. “My son’s a soldier. Got deployed ta fight fer the Royal Airforce. He was jus’ a kid at that time. Fought hard. Died young. Came back home ta me thirty years ago – what was left of him, that is. Yer fought in war, son?”
“Yessir.”
Joel nodded. “And yer livin’ to tell the tale. Which either means yer the best Soldier out there, or the worst.”
Engie sucked in an apprehensive breath and held it, eyes darting to Soldier. Ready to wrestle him down again if need be. The last person that questioned him had their nose broken, he recollected.
“Sir, I am the bestest Soldier on this side of the planet, Sir.” Soldier said, sternly and earnestly.
“I’m jus’ kiddin’ with yer.” Joel gave Soldier a pat on his arm. “They honored ya good, then?”
Silence.
Engie looked up at the helmeted man and frowned. Silence on Soldier was…not a good sign. Especially when it came to his one and only topic of favor.
With honoring, Joel definitely meant medals. Recognitions of bravery, heroism, and meritorious service. He knew Sal had some, he still remembered them sticking proudly displayed to his uniform when they met twenty years ago – they were obviously self-made, out of bottle caps and pieces of colored fabric. But Engie always assumed Soldier must’ve lost the original ones.
Joel waved his hand, dismissively. “Ah. Don’t matter- Yer fought fer what’s right, that all that matters, ain’t it?” he picked up the tray. “Tell ya what, I’mma take a lil’ test drive downtown with my truck, and y’all get that there horse back in the barn. When I’m back, I’mma fix us up som’ dinner. Sounds good?”
The large barn had been old and almost completely abandoned when Dell last saw it. It stood securely tucked away between the two properties, in the shade of some trees. The beaten foot-path that stretched down the hill would lead them to the small lake he’d been fishing with Pops many years ago.
Maybe Soldier would enjoy fishing, he ponders.
“We oughta find this ol’ fellow a friend.” Dell said, giving the horse a pat on the shoulders. But looking at the way the horse turned its head and glanced at Soldier, in its mind, it already had found one. One that unfortunately did not share that sentiment.
Dell chuckled softly as he looked at Soldier’s face, scrunched up in wariness at the animal’s glances. “He used ta be the rowdiest lil’ brat of a colt I’ve ever seen, but look at him now. He’s ol’ n’ probably lonely.”
As if to confirm his words, the horse gave Soldier a nudge against the shoulder with its large head.
“Y-You will not touch me until given permission to!” Solder raises his finger at the animal. “Is that cle-?”
Blunt teeth dig into the hem of his shirt again and tug playfully at it. Soldier flinches away, and Dell cannot help the laughter tumbling from his lips.
“C’mon, don’t push yer luck with him, Tex.” He gives the equine a soft tug with the reins. “Y’know, I don’ think Joel ever bothered givin’ him a name.”
“Such belligerence doesn’t deserve a name,” Soldier hisses. “Other than belligerence!”
“Ye wanna call him belligerence? Now that ain’t a kind name.” Dell shakes his head. He opens the barn up, the scent of fresh hay wafting into his nose. It’s an old smell he remembers from his childhood, usually mixed with the tangy odor of manure mixed in there, and the sour scent of a recently ridden horse still soaked with sweat. Now there’s only hay.
Dell let go of the reins and the gelding plodded slowly towards the water trough. The tinkerer could see the way the horse had difficulties moving with the improvised prosthetist, a slight limp whenever it relocated its weight on it.
“There ya go, pal.” Dell gives the gelding a soft pat on its behind. “Tomorrow we’re gon’ take a gander at that leg of yers.”
“Will you build him a gunslinger, too?” Soldier asked him.
Dell grinned. “Now there’s an idea. He could deploy his own lil’ sentries all over the yard.” And then he laughed as another funny image came to his mind. “Imagine me, ridin’ into battle, gunslinger n’ all, stompin’ along with mah sentries in tow?”
“Son, that is absolutely unacceptable. Only George Washington and Napoleon were allowed to ride horses.” Soldier growls. “Besides - I do not trust these hoof-clomping maggots to carry anybody safely around MY battlefield. Any animal that grows long hair on their head is NOT battle-hardened!”
“Aw, now.” Engie shook his head. “I thought y’all were a friend of animals.”
“I am a friend of MOST animals. Those that have five toes!”
The gelding chuffed against the back of Engie’s neck and he cringed in surprise, before turning, giving the animal a gentle pat on the back of its snout. “Y’know. Horses and people ain’t that far apart from each other.” He grins, knowing he uses the same choice of words Soldier had when explaining to him how raccoons were like people, too.
“Fer instance – they do like themselves some good pettin’,” he gives the horse some loving scratches along its furry chin. “They can form bonds, like we do. They eat apples, n’ carrots, n’ all that – which basically means they eat human food.” He can see Soldier catches up on his little tongue-in-cheek joke here. His neck is doing that blushing thing again.
“I am NOT like a horse,” Soldier harrumphed.
“No?” Engie dug his hand into his pocket. “Well – Did I mention that horses also jus’ happen to love sugar?” From within, he drew two sugar cubes he had picked up from the house, a sort of peace treaty with the equine should their first encounter go awry. It was hilarious, the way the horse and Soldier seemed to perk up on the mention of ‘sugar’ almost simultaneously. Large nostrils flared and sniffed around Dell’s hand curiously, and when he opens his hand, thick, soft, warm lips wrap carefully around his fingers and took the tasty morsel from him.
“C’mere,” the Texan waves Soldier closer, but the military man stood still and solid, anxiety exuding from him at the idea of coming closer to the animal. So, Dell wraps his hand around Soldier’s arm, until the taller man lets him hold his wrist. He places the sugar cube in the man’s palm. “Hold yer hand out flat. That way he ain’t gon bite off anything on accident.”
“B-Bite off?” Soldier’s body stiffened, but he did as he was told. Dell lifts his hand in his. The gelding sniffs curiously, ears flicking back and forth. It takes one, two languish steps towards them. Soldier’s breath caught in his throat. “Easy, Sal. He ain’t gonna hurt ya.”
The horse comes to a halt before them, evidently just as hesitant as the Soldier before him. Hot, damp breath tickles over Soldier’s fingers as the equine gives it a curious sniff. Then, it wrapped its lips around the offered treat, soft lips tickling over Soldier’s hand. As soon as the horse withdrew, did Soldier exhale again.
“See? That ain’t so bad.”
The animal chews, the sugar cube crunching under its large teeth. “You can touch him now.”
“I…” Soldier pauses. “He will not bite me.”
“He won’t.”
It’s the encouragement the Commando needs – and he lets Dell take his hand and places it on the soft, warm snout of the animal, his over Soldier’s. Its warm respiration rolling over both their hands.
Soldier’s hands were, like all of him, strong, thick and calloused. In the Texan sun, his skin had warmed up. He doesn’t draw away, and he doesn’t say a word as Dell’s hand lingers on his for a bit longer than socially acceptable. When Dell lets his fingers drift into the spaces between Soldier’s, he still doesn’t draw away. But he could tell the military man was looking at him.
The moment is disturbed by the horse sudden strong nudge with its head, followed by nudging at Soldier’s shoulder and his arm, snout sniffing along his pockets.
“Wh-What d-do you think you’re doing, you furry maggot!!”
Engie couldn’t hold it any longer. He begins laughing. “Yer better check yer gear, Soldier-boy.”
“What?” Soldier shoves his hands into his pockets – withdrawing a whole stash of sugar cubes that was definitely not there before. The equine greedy lipped and mouthed at Soldier’s hand, and the Commando lets them drop in shock. Engie laughs even louder at this.
“Yer never gon’ get rid of him now!”
“THIS IS YOUR WORK!” Soldier points his finger at Engie.
“Guilty as charged,” Engie takes one, two steps backwards, hands up, grinning like a cat that got the canary.
“Y-YOU DARE DOING SOMETHING SO ROTTEN TO YOUR SUPERIOR, YOU SPINELESS WORM?!” His voice carries through the barn but Engie could not take it seriously when the horse continued pushing its head under Soldier’s arms to find access to his sugar-filled pockets.
“DO NOT LAUGH!” he barks, “I DID NOT GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO LAUGH!!”, but it makes Engie laugh all the more. “You’ve done it now, Geppetto!!”
An impish playfulness makes Engie turn around and run into the other direction, guffawing under his breath. He hears Soldier’s heaver footfall closing in rapidly on him.
“You come back here so I can whoop your ass back into the Stone Age!”
Soldier throws increasingly angry curses at him while they zig-zag through the barn like two children playing tag, Engie’s throat beginning to hurt from laughing and panting.
He loses the battle when Soldier’s hand finds purchase on his belt and pulls. Engie yelps as he’s pulled off his feet and Soldier ‘oomph’ed in equal surprise as they both crash together and tumble into a pile of hay.
There’s straws sticking in his shirt and poking into his body as he lays there, trying to catch his breath. He sees a shadow in the corner of his eyes, moving swiftly, and suddenly he finds his hands wrapped and pinned beside his head. Soldier was leaning over him, holding on tightly to his wrists. The helmet swayed over his face.
Apprehensively, he wonders if Soldier would make good on his ass-whooping promise, but the man seemed just as out of breath as he was.
“Yer got me,” Engie grinned.
It felt good to laugh again. To laugh so freely and openly, mind and body free of the chaos that they were faced with every day since their employment. Free of robots. Free of Spies.
“Had you any doubt I would, Private?”
“Maybe,” Engie relaxes. “What ya gon do to lil’ ol’ me, then, hm?”
Soldier’s mouth stretches into a winning grin. “I told you EXACTLY what I will do to you!”
Uh oh!
Before the Engineer even had a moment to reply, he was suddenly flung onto his belly and grabbed by his hips. “Get your sissy ass ready for an All American butt-kicking!” Engie was unceremoniously dragged over Soldier’s thighs. “W-Whoa, Sal, hold on now –“
“You had your chance, Private Twinkletoes!”
The slap came so suddenly and sharply it robbed him of any air. Even through the thick layer of his jeans he could feel the burn on his left backside. “What in Sam’s Hill yer-“
SNAP! That one was even harder than the last one, if that was even possible, and the pain bloomed on his other side now.
The tinkerer turned so suddenly and, before thinking, clogged Soldier’s jaw with his elbow. Soldier was so taken aback, he couldn’t even prevent the tinkerer from slipping away from him. They started at each other, the energy having suddenly shifted from lighthearted fun to...something quite exhilarating. Blood began pumping through every inch of his body, tingling excitedly in his fingertips and his ears.
“Yer done roused the bull now.” Engie smirked.
“I have roused a coddled daisy!” Soldier shoots back. “I have roused walking vomit!”
Oh, now that just gripes his gizzard!
Engie lunges at him. There’s a kerfuffle of grunts, flailing limbs and hay being whirled up as they rolled onto the ground. Somehow managing to take the upper hand, Engie wedges his arm beneath Soldier’s jaw, legs wrapping around the man’s hips. Using his weight, he pushes the taller man down against the ground. “Start prayin’, boy!” he jeers. Soldier struggles against the firm grasp, tossing, bucking, pushing his legs into the ground and attempting to squash the smaller man beneath his own weight.
“Yer goin’ round, smacking poor people’s ass, ye are? How ‘bout I show yer how it’s done!” It’s unfair, he knows – but he snaps the Gunslinger down on Soldier’s muscles ass, and the sound alone made Dell feel sorry for the man below him. Soldier lets out a strained “Gah!” sound and crumbles under him. “I-Is that all you got?!” he growls.
“I can also do this here.” And the gunslinger holds on tighter, tighter, squeezing him. Soldier growls like an angered canine.
A well-placed kick to the shin makes Engie gasp and loosen his grip in surprise – more than enough for Soldier to grasp him by the collar and toss him off. He’s over him now, but not for long, as Engie pushes him with his shoulder and topples them both back into the hay stack.
It collapses over them and buries them in a heap of musky hay. He could swear he saw a startled mouse sprint away into the corner, escaping these two powerhouses battling each other. He’s one moment too slow and suddenly he belly-flops onto the concrete, hands grasped and pinned to his back. Something heavy pushes into his lower back, or at least attempts to, as he wiggles himself like a worm, and Soldier grunts as his knee collides with the ground instead. “Maggot,” he snarls. “If you know what’s GOOD for you –!“
Plam! Engie’s head collides with Soldier’ jaw with a painful clicking sound as teeth grind together and skull meets hard, angular bone. Both men saw stars for a moment.
The world turns, or maybe he’s turning, he couldn’t tell. But next thing he knows he’s tackled again, and this time, he cannot wind himself out of Soldier’s crushing grasp. He tries prying the man’s arms away from him, and finds them rock-solid and unmovable. Wedging himself out with brute force was just as fruitless. They may match each other in strength, but not in size. He could pick that darn Yankee up and easily toss him across the room, were they fighting face to face. But he was slotted tightly against Soldier’s wide chest, trapped under his arms.
“You are weak! You are SLOW!” Soldier barks. “I have crapped bigger opponents than you --!!”
Everything comes to a crashing halt when Dell’s hand closes around the front of Soldier’s pants. It’s a tight grip. And not a pleasant one, he knows. And he also knows that he has all the important and sensitive parts right there in his palm, and one wrong movement would ensue pain.
Soldier gives a surprised yelp and falls silent.
“Ye were sayin’, hombre?”
“Th-This is dirty war tactics!!” Soldier shoots back.
“Ain’t no dirty tricks in MY war, son.” Engineer shoots back. “Now, we can do this the easy style, or…“and he tightens his grip a notch further. “We’ll do this Texas style.”
“Y-You mangy, rotten –NGH! Fine!“ Soldier loosens his grasp on Engie. The mechanic slid from under his arms.
“Looks like I am TOO VIOLENT for the likes of y--!”
“One more word.” Engie warns him, giving the package in his hand a slight, ever so slight twist.
Soldier bucks under him and he’s lifted off the floor for a moment. “Is that an ORDER?”
Engie is surprised by the short loss of balance. “It sure is, yer darn –“ and then, he is even MORE surprised when he feels Soldier…responding. It could’ve just been a sudden movement of Soldier’s abdominal muscles, or a shift of his legs – until it happens again. A keen twitch.
Oh?
He loosens his grip on the man, just slightly – and gives it a soothing caress instead. Well. Could be worse situations for an unannounced boner, he supposed. Besides? Looking at the Soldier writhing under his touch, blood clinging to his lip, flushed and heated and right between Engineer’s legs, he looked mighty tasty.
“BLAMO!!”
He doesn’t see the helmet springing into his direction. It collided sharply with the front of his face, and stinging, hot pain shoots up his mouth, into his nostrils, into his brain, and tears spring to his eyes at once.
With a startled groan, he holds his nose and flops off of the man.
“HAH! I got you now!” Soldier barks out a laughter. “Lesson one in the arts of war, NEVER let your guard down, toymaker! EVER! Even before a seemingly beaten enemy!”
His face stung like a son’uva’bitch. When he lifted his fingers, blood dripped in a steady stream from somewhere – his nose, he presumed. He growled.
“I’mma lay you right out—!“
“The heck yer two doin’ in there?”
Engineer sprang so quickly to his feet he got dizzy for a moment, stumbling over a hay bale. Soldier followed, equally unsteady, swiftly readjusting the helmet on his head. Ol’ Joel gave them a critical glance as the two men stumbled from behind the large hay stack, Engie could only imagine what the old man saw – both of them busted, bleeding from one and the other orifice, hay sticking to their clothes and skin, Engie’s shirt was slightly torn around one sleeve.
“Yer havin’ a brawl?”
Engineer and Soldier had the decency to look slightly ashamed. Ol’ Joel snickered.
“Get yer sorry asses outta there.” He nods towards the path. “Gon’ get dinner ready. If’n yer gonna fight it out, y’all better have it settled now, cuz I ain’t toleratin’ that in my house.”
Soldier hated clothes shopping. Clothes, he argued, he had plenty, but Engie knew the Soldier couldn’t continue lending himself clothes from Dell that were too small for him. When they left, he had left in his shirt and slacks and boots and the nights out here turned colder with each passing day as fall approaches. After much deliberating and grousing from Soldiers part, Dell managed to fill his wardrobe with some sturdy jackets, shirts, and socks. Small mercies.
He also hated buying groceries, and Dell knew that was partly his fault. But it was head-ache inducing, arguing with the man every time that no, he was NOT going to buy their whole stock of honey and Bonk! and chocolate bars and no, eating it all before leaving the store did not mean it was for free.
Soldier was afraid of horses and wary of cows at best, but he loved dogs and cats. The amount of times he picked up a cat that was very obviously not a stray and held it in cuddle-hostage until Dell stepped in had gotten quickly out of control.
Lieutentant Bites was his unlikely rescue. The critter seemed to despise cats with a passion. Each time Soldier tried introducing a new furry friend, the raccoon hissed and bared its little fangs and swiped at the docile felines. Oh, jealousy.
Now that the matter of cats was done, Soldier moved on quickly to the next best thing.
One morning he stomped up the stairs and into Dell’s room at the ass-crack of dawn, a litter of golden yapping Labrador puppies in his arms.
“Engie, look!” he was like a giddy child. “Little dog cadets!” The pups wagged their tail and yipped and yapped and licked Soldier’s fingers and his chin in joy.
He had begged him to keep them. All of them. Dell, on the other hand, was mortified. Where the HELL did Soldier get a whole litter of puppies from?!
The mystery was solved when a rather snippy blonde Lady knocked on his broken-in door and demanded her dog’s litter back. It took a great deal of convincing to make Soldier part with his little furry platoon, and when he did, he could swear the puppies looked just as sad about their departure. Engie had to take a deep, long, steeling inhale.
I will NOT buy Soldier a darn puppy. I will NOT buy Soldier a darn puppy…
Soldier developed an obsession with barbeque sauce and began eating most meals with it now. He was not a fan of corn, though. Too complicated machinery, he argued. Never sure what way to eat it, and arguing that ‘he would NOT put a phallic formed object near HIS patriotic foodhole’.
He did love his Texan T-bones and spare ribs, though.
Soldier hated shopping but he seemed to enjoy Bee Cave as a whole. And to his tremendous surprise, Dell found that Bee Cave enjoyed him as well – especially the old-timers.
Soldier asked him to be excused from ‘Shopping duty’ and Dell gladly allowed it. That way Soldier would not be bored out of his mind and Dell could shop in peace.
When he left with his bagged groceries, he nearly dropped them in surprise. He found Soldier, swarmed by an army of older ladies, swooning and crooning at him, quite smitten with such a strong, handsome Soldier finding his way into their little Bee Cave.
They touched his arms and marvelled over his strength, some commenting that ‘the boy needed more food, he’s so thin’ and asking him to come home with them and taste their home-made cooking.
Or for…other activities.
Soldier was so surprised by his sudden fan club, he was utterly unable to do or say anything, and Dell had to hide his face in his hands and stifle his laughter before rescuing him.
Whenever Dell had to run an errand, and he was running a lot of errands, now that he and Soldier began repairing the old Conagher Farmhouse, he more often than not found Soldier in Bee Caves little retirement home once he was done buying wood and paint.
The first time that happened, Dell was frantically turning every stone in Bee Cave, trying to locate the man – only to find him, stuffed to the brim with root beer and mashed potatoes, grinning like a cat that got the cream, in the elderly care facility. He had to almost physically pry the Soldier from the gaggle of old fangirls that Soldier had accumulated.
“Engie, they make excellent mashed potatoes.” Soldier was still licking at his fingers when they left. “We should come here more often.”
Dell was afraid that Soldier’s boisterous personality and booming voice would someday cause one of the ladies to drop dead with surprise. But the opposite seemed to be the case, with many of them being half-deaf anyway, and Dell was turning from concerned to amused real quick when some of the residents demanded Soldier yelled louder.
Safe to say, Soldier would come to eat their mashed potatoes many more times. And once, or twice, Dell was invited too. He had never really paid much attention to the older generation living around Bee Cave – but with Soldier’s regular visits, Dell now found himself feeling quite welcomed among them.
One day, an elderly woman called Mary had fallen and was unable to get up on her own. Soldier had shoved the care takers away and picked the lady up like she weighted nothing. From that day on, there were more and more cases of people, especially ladies conspicuously ‘slipping’ and falling and ‘needing the help of a big, strong man’.
Dell considered telling Soldier to ask them for a permanent position. That is, if they weren’t already employed and most likely send back very soon.
But weeks passed. And Miss Pauling made no attempts at contacting either of them.
Soldier didn’t like horse racing, and Dell couldn’t blame him. His father used to drag him to these things as well, parading around how good of a father he was, taking his son to the races, when in reality it was an excuse for Fred Conagher to gamble. Soldier saw no reason in betting money on a horse. “If I wanted to win, I’d ride these toe-less animal commies myself!” he declared and that settled that. Not going to lie – imagining Soldier atop a horse in a fierce gallop, powerful thighs pressing into the horses’ flank, was a fantasy in itself.
But Soldier loved rodeo.
And Dell loved rodeo, too.
The sun was setting and the scent of grass heated up by the sun and wet mud hung heavy in the air, the cheers and chatter around them mixing with the chirping of the crickets and the antsy neighing and mooing in the stables.
Above all, the soft jingle-jangle of Dell’s spurs followed his every step. He was rather disappointed to find his chaps were absolutely not going to fit him anymore, but at the very least his boots were still the same size he wore them in his early twenties.
Engie had made sure Soldier would not stick out quite like a sore thumb. Upon asking if he wanted to trade his helmet for one of Dell’s cowboy hats, Soldier had looked visibly uncomfortable. Again.
He never took it off. And he wouldn’t this time, either. “This helmet has protected me from rockets, bullets, crosshairs AND Yeti-punches.” He said. “And it will protect me today from any incoming maggot hooves as well.”
At the very least he could convince Soldier to put on a shirt that would fit the uniformity of the local western style – a soft blue flannel with white outlines on its chest pockets.
“Y’all ever been to a proper rodeo?” Dell asks him.
“No sir,” Soldier shakes his head. Dell couldn’t imagine it was as popular up in the Midwest as it was down here in Texas.
“Well, yer in fer a treat then!”
A large group had gathered by one of the make-shift arenas made of sturdy steel walls and horse boxes. Dell and Soldier found a spot that was open and squeezed in. The ground was churned up good by whatever rider had competed in here before, clumps of grass and sand torn out of the brown, moist soil.
The small, closed off areas behind the gates were filled with tall, antsy looking horses with bulging eyes and ears flicking, chuffing nervously as the saddles were tightened around them.
“Now, this one’s called bareback bronc ridin’.” Dell slung his arm around Soldier’s shoulder and pointed at the cowboys fixing the straps around the equines. “Yer gonna have ta stay in that there saddle fer eight seconds – with only one hand.”
“What does the other hand do?” Soldier asks.
“Well – anythin’ but holdin’ onto that saddle.”
“And here come our cowboys!” The announcer’s voice blared over their head and a wave of cheers erupted around them.
A particularly cocky cowboy, not much younger than mid twenty, wave to the crowd, a winning smirk on his lips.
“Yer see that kid over yonder, Sal?” Dell nudged Soldier. The man huffed. “He looks like Scout.”
That he did. Young and full of himself. Dell laughed.
“I’mma guarantee yer he’s gon’ get thrown off the saddle in less than five seconds.”
“How do you know?” Soldier asks.
“His kind severely overestimate their own skills. He’ll be lucky if his darn neck ain’t getting’ a nasty crick from that ride.”
The cocky kid jumped into his saddle and put his hat on top of the agitated horse’s head, making the crowd laugh and cheer. With a loud, sudden clank, the gate was torn open. The horse neighed angrily and began bucking wildly against its bucking-strap, throwing its hind legs up and stomping furiously on the ground below. The cowboy hat was flung off and stomped into the soil below. The crowd was roaring, the horses were whinnying anxiously in the stables – and then a groan of disappointment went through the crowd.
Dell was wrong. The kid fell off in less than three seconds.
His hands lipped from his saddle, and his body was bucked off from his mount. He fell flat on his stomach, sinking face-first into the mud. The cheers turned to guffaws in a moment. Soldier clasped his hands around the railing. “That’s it?” he asks, incredulously.
“Yep. That’s it fer him.”
“Th-That went so fast!”
Dell laughed. “It ain’t usually over that quick!” he gave Soldier a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Jus’ wait til the next one.”
The kid was dragged off, and so was the bucking horse. And just as he left, a new rider entered the ring. He was older, and wiser.
“How long do you think until he gets thrown off?” Soldier asks him, eagerly.
“Hmm, that’s hard ta tell.” and Dell smirks them. “My pops used ta say, the thicker their mustache the longer they sit mounted.”
“What?” Soldier frowned.
“Experience, son. The older they are, the better they ride.”
Soldier squints at the gentleman clad in black, chaps made of roughened leather, and a pearly white cowboy hat atop his head. Assessing the density of the man’s facial hair.
“I bet he will be thrown of in…. more than three seconds.” Soldier says. Dell’s smirk widens.
“Well, he ain’t that good.” Dell teased. “Yer wanna bet?”
Soldier stares at him then, quite surprised. “You are keen to part with your money, grease monkey.” he grins then. “Fifty bucks.”
“Fifty? I’mma go ta sixty. If that there guy gets tossed off in less than five.”
“Seventy if he stays!”
“Ninety!”
“One thousand-!“
Clang!
The gate opened, and the horse reared its head up high, thrashing and bucking so fiercely, the rider atop is thrown to and fro, a hand on his saddle, the other on his hat. The horse screeches in anger and pain and stomps and kicks and bucks – and the rider on top stays firmly seated, his hand tightly around his saddle, and to the crowd’s delight, he lifts his hat up high.
“Hahah!” Soldier laughed boisterously. “Yes! Show that sissified hippie-donkey who’s boss!”
The bucking horse begins charging blindly, and even then the rider goes with the flow, not once slipping or sliding off. The bell rings and with a graceful jump, the man landed in the dirt, flinging his hat into the cheering crowd.
“Darn.” Dell smacked the railing with his flat hand. “Looks like yer were doggone right this time.”
Shucks, he just hoped Soldier wasn’t serious when he said a thousand bucks.
“Well, wasn’t that a treat?” came the booming voice of the announcer. “I think it’s high time we bring in some tougher meat into the ring! Get the bulls down here!”
Cheers broke out in the ring.
If Soldier loved bronc riding, he’d absolutely love the bulls. The gates were opened and a row of mean, brawny bulls came huffing and puffing, getting shooed into their boxes, pinned between the wall and the gates.
The first person came in and Dell’s excitement went flying out the window. Oh no.
This darn idiot, he thinks, looking at the young rider, wearing no helmet and no protective gear, other that his leather chaps. The cockiest, and dumbest, refused all sorts of protective gear and nine times out of ten, it ended in injury. But of course, every rodeo there would be one nutjob ready to prove they were the one out of ten to survive their ride without being crushed.
“Sal,” he touched the Soldier’s arm, about to suggest to go to a different ring, but Soldier was leaning his upper body over the railing and yelling: “Wrangle this namby-pamby piece of Steak Tatar into the dirt!!”
This one seemed particularly popular with the crowd. He ran along the tribune, giving high-fives to every outstretched hand, basking in the attention.
When he arrived at Dell and Soldier’s slot, Soldier calls to him: “Make me proud son! Send this horned guinea pig back to Calgary with your boot around its ass!”
“Ayy, that one got it!” the kid tipped his hat, and off he went to his chute. Dell began fidgeting nervously. He has high hopes that the kid knew what he was doing – else they’d be in for a nasty sight.
The cowboy swings on top of the bull’s back, with nothing but a strap and the sheer power of his legs to hold onto. CLANG!
The gate opened and the beast began violently tossing its hind legs into the air, a colossus of muscles. Foam was spewing from its mouth, its eyes bulging, and the rider thrusted himself back with every forward buck, and vice versa. The crowd was going wild. The counter slid to three seconds. Four seconds. And still, the kid sat firmly on top, legs tucked in to stabilize himself on the bull’s wide back. Mooing furiously, the bull threw its head back, horns swinging dangerously close to the rider’s face. Just a few inches more, and his visage would’ve been minced meat.
The counter slid to six, then seven, and Dell’s anxiety seemed to lessen with each second the rider stayed atop and in balance– until he wasn’t.
His knee slid off, and he was flung off with a violent thrust backwards – only, one of his spurs caught in the bucking strap. And suddenly the cheers turned into shocked gasps. The bull twisted and thrashed, and the rider, trying frantically to free himself, was tossed along. Like a ragdoll, his limbs were flung to and fro. When the bull suddenly began charging, he was dragged along, sliding through dust and mud and utterly helpless. There was a yelp, then a sudden, nauseating crack as his head hit a rock under the churned up soil, then silence.
Another angry rounds of bucks from the angered bull, and the kid’s boot was loosened from the strap – his body came flying into the railing. Blood sprayed over the floor, the gates, the crowd.
For a moment, there as a mortified moment of silence – only broken when Soldier threw his arms up and hooted in zeal.
“Hahaha!! YES! Again! More! Again!!”
Fine blood sprinkles covered his helmet.
The bull before them was the biggest bull Dell had ever set eyes on.
Maximus was his name, and he was dark as sin. Wide, curled horns growing from its massive skull, a heavy ring hung from its nostrils. Those large dark eyes had a mean streak to them that promised pain should anybody even try and approach him.
“Don’t get too close to him now,” Said the fat cowboy, twirling his thick moustache, basking in the awe of the crowd. “Unless you wanna catch them horns!”
The sky was dark by the time the professional bull-rides had ended, and to Dells great relief (and Soldiers dismay), the riders following that poor kid insisted on wearing safety gear, any no more bloodshed happened.
But now that half of the rodeo crowd was already drunk on liquid courage – now the fun really began.
Left and right, farmers and old cowboys exhibited their own cattle, one bigger than the other, one meaner looking than the next. And a hefty price money promised to anyone that dared riding these monstrosities. Three people were already thrown off by Maximus by the time Dell and Soldier had squeezed through the crowd and beheld the mountain of muscles and beef before them. They hadn’t even managed to mount him properly. The thing bucked and kicked the moment one of the drunk, cocky amateur buckaroos approached and grasped the straps.
“Ten thousand for anyone who can best the beast of Houston!” the fat farmer called, drawing more and more curious eyes towards him. Now ten thousand was a hefty sum. And some out here were desperate for money.
It was a crooked deal, and a lot of people would leave this rodeo with broken bones trying to win said price.
“Ain’t that some big mother-hubber. Yer ever seen such a beast?”
“I have, and his name is Heavy.” Soldier said.
“I don’t think even Heavy could compete with that there.”
A string-bean of a kid approached the bull, trying a different tactic than the other, abrasive, larger men. He took tentative steps towards the bovine, hands raised. Maximus considered the kid through wary, dark eyes.
“But I could.” Soldier said, very confident.
“Would ya lookit that! This Soldier-boy is turnin’ into a cowboy.” That idea was both funny and heartwarming.
“Not a cowboy,” Soldier argued. “A cow MAN!”
A sudden sharp yelp cut through the air, Maximus moo’ed angrily and a thud several feet away from the beast followed. Guffaws broke out around them. The kid had been flung off his feet by one angrily flick of the bulls large head.
“That there thought the same thing as you, y’know?”
“He’s a child.” Soldier pff’ed. “This oversized sea urchin may think he’s the strongest! But STRENGTH is not what matters. It’s DETERMINATION! And I have plenty of that!”
“Big words fer a wrangler that ain’t earned his spurs yet.”
Soldier harrumphed, but Dell elbowed his ribs playfully.
“Well, if’n yer keen on learnin’, I could show yer a thing or two. I could rent us a cow. Oughta start small. AND yer gon’ have ta learn ta git along with horses as well.”
Soldier looked at him then. “You know how to ride?” he asked, almost incredulously.
And here he had been calling Engie a rodeo-clown, not knowing there was some truth to that mockery after all. Dell smirked.
“Been on a few backs.” He drawled. “Back in my youth.”
Soldier stares at him.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Huh?”
“Either you are over exaggerating, or you’re LYING TO ME! AND I DON’T KNOW WHICH IS MORE DISHONORABLE!”
Even above the ear-blasting music and chatter from the crowd around them, his voice carried over the noise.
“Hey, I’m serious!” Dell said. “What, jus’ cuz I haven’t had a bovine close by fer twenty years yer jus’ thinkin’ I’m lying?”
“I AM!” Soldier growled. “These Bull-riders were nothing short of AMERICAN GODHOOD! They have the eye of the tiger, the hearts of a lion, the wings of an eagle, the big muscular arms of a panther-man and the silent majesty of a kraken! And YOU have NEITHER of these things! ”
“Oh, now that’s just –“
“Prove it then!”
“…Prove it?”
“PROVE IT RIGHT NOW, MAGGOT!” and he points at Maximus.
“Yer want me ta –“ Dell glanced between the Soldier, the black bull and the few people close by that were startled by the helmeted man’s loud voice, staring at the two of them.
And now they had a crowd as well. Great. Being put on the spot was not in his plans for today, and especially not being challenged to ride an eighteen-hundred pound beef machine.
But a Conagher had his pride. And a Conagher hated having his pride challenged.
Dell puffed out his chest and pushed his hat back. “Oh, yer thinkin’ I’m lyin’, eh?” he snapped at the taller man. “Yer gon’ EAT ya words, I promise yer that!”
“I will eat NOTHING until YOU provided!”
Pah!
Another startled yelp and a thud sounds somewhere around the tribune as yet another poor unfortunate soul was thrown off of Maximus.
“Oh, the humanity!” the fat farmer laughed. “What a disappointment! Is there truly nobody who could take my boy out for a romantic ride tonight?”
“I will!” Dell pushed through the crowd. It was obvious that Dell was not the sort of man the farmer had expected, or wanted, to step up to the challenge. “Well, err – they build them smaller and smaller ‘round here, I see.”
Sniggers could be heard from the crowd. But this was not the first jape at his size’s expense, and likely not the last. He strode up to the bull nevertheless, the tranquility of a man who’d approached angry huffing beasts with horns as large as small tree trunks every day.
“You sure you’re up for the task, stretch?” the wrangler asked him, haughtily.
Dell shrugged his shoulder. “Ain’t my first rodeo.”
Maximus side-eyed him, brown eyes scanning him up and down. He gave a warning stomp with his hind leg.
“Aren’t yer jus’ a fat, ugly mother-lover?” Dell laughed. “Yer been throwin’ off cowboys left n’ ride tonight. But yer body-count ends now.”
The bull turned his head and chuffed angry, hot, moist breath. Dell knew, the bull had been going easy on everyone, actually. If someone would’ve caught those horns, they’d be mincemeat.
There was a tense moment of silence between him, the crowd and the bull – until Dell pushed his boot in the ground and kicked up a plume of sand, right in the bulls face. The beast winced, moo’ed angrily and shook his massive head.
One, two, and Dell had grabbed the reins and swung himself up and atop of Maximus’ back. Instantly the bull began bucking, and angrily so. Engie grasped the rope with his right, lifting his left up, tugging his legs securely around the arched spine of the beast – and he was off. The startled cries around him quickly turned into cheers and hollering when they noticed this cowboy was not tossed off as easily as the others. Maximus tossed and thrashed about, hind legs swinging up and stomping down on the sandy ground, large horns swinging from left to right and narrowly missing Dell’s unprotected head by a few inches, thick ropes of slobber and snot poured from the bull’s mouth. Dell counted down the seconds. Seven. Six…
Maximus reared up, and Dell slipped for a moment, his legs finding no more purchase on his sweat-slicked fur. But his hand held on securely. When the bull came down again in a last effort to toss its rider off, Dell pushed his boots into Maximus’ ribs and stayed firmly seated on.
Four, Three, he counted.
Suddenly the bull charged. Quickly, the crowd dispersed in all directions as the bovine came barreling down their path. It was a terribly bumpy ride, Dell grasped his hat as to not lose it. When he saw his mount was charging right into another crowd of unsuspecting people, he began panicking. Only a small girl holding an ice-cream cone, stuck-mid lick, stared at them with wide brown eyes.
“Not that way, not that way!!” he yelped, and gave Maximus a kick with his spurs. The beast growled and turned to the left – charging towards a large rock.
“Not that way, either!!” Dell kicked him again, spurs digging into fur and flesh, and the monster chuffed and charged into a different direction.
“Get him!” he heard someone yell over the startled cries of the masses of people. A rider closed up on them, a lasso swinging in his hand.
The hell would a rope do to a headless beast like dear old Maximus, Dell thought helplessly.
Before the rider could even throw it, Maximus suddenly swung his head and the horse whinnied in panic as those sets of horns nearly smashed the equine’s face. Horse plus rider scurried off in a different direction.
Dell turned around to assess if any damage was left – and then he saw the bucking strap. If he could get it unbuckled-?
Ah heck, how was he gonna do THIS?
‘They build them smaller and smaller ‘round here.’
Darn that cow wrangler and his correct assessments!
Disregarding all rules of rodeo right now, Dell leaned over and stretched his free hand out. But Maximus was not only fat and ugly, but he was also tall, and Dell had to stretch his shoulder to its maximum capacities to reach it. His fingers fumbled with the buckle. Just a bit more, he thinks. Just a bit more…
Maximus, blinded by rage and sand, ran heedlessly in any random directions its cow-brain thought fit, no care what stood in his way. A few crates? Smashed. A cactus? Barreled down. A street-food cart? Gone.
“Argh, hell!” Dell swore. This had to end now!
With one last, desperate attempt, Dell let go of the reins, and swung his body forward – and grasped the strap buckles. He unclasped it, the bucking rope slipping off the beast’s rear.
And suddenly, his ride ended. The beast gave a started chuff, pushed its hooves into the ground, and they screeched to a halt. Dell didn’t know how he managed to stay on top of the beast, with nothing but short fur to hold onto – but when he opened his eyes and the dust cloud had settled, he was sprawled out along the bull’s back, face pressed into his meaty flank.
A large, warm, moist tongue playing with his chaps startled Dell out of his state of mute shock. He blinked. Maximus had turned his large head and nudged Dell’s leg, playfully nibbling on his jeans – a look of absolute tranquility and friendliness on the bull’s face.
He was suddenly engulfed in a pandemonium of cheers and worried chatter alike. People rush over to him, but Soldier pushes through to the front, and grasps Engie by the scruff, pulling him off the now docile beast.
His legs are shaky, either from his near death ride or from the adrenaline still pumping hot and red in his veins, and his hand rests on Soldier’s shoulder as to not stumble and fall.
“That was – how did you-?!” That was the voice of the farmer. His fat face was covered in red blotches, his second chin trembling under the thick beard.
“There.” Dell tosses him the bucking strap – revealing fine needles on the underside of the leather rope. “Next time yer wrappin’ this thing round a cow’s balls, yer oughta start with yourself.”
Maximus moo’ed softly, happily grazing on a thatch of grass.
Soldier moves them away and into a remote area, and Dell could feel he rubbed his inner thighs raw from that ride. Darn. He might still have the skills of a cowboy, but definitely not the body anymore.
“Are you hurt, private?” Soldier asks him.
Dell hissed softly when he opened his chaps and noticed fine blotches of red blooming on the inside of his jeans.
“Ugh,” he grinds out. “Well, ain’t the worst I’ve ever had. But that there’s gonna hurt like a bitch come mornin’.”
A small price for the restored honor of the Conagher name.
“Maximus is worse fer wear though. Ya seen the buckin’ strap? Doggone farmer spiked ‘em. No wonder that beast was in such a bad mood-“
His lips are covered by a warm, seeking mouth.
Teeth scrape along his lower lip and then his upper lip, and then he is attacked by a series of feverishly passionate kisses.
Despite his wobbly legs, he somehow remains upright, but if it wasn’t for Soldier’s tight grasp around his shoulders, he’d surely fold like an omelet.
“That was,” he heard Soldier’s voice, thick and husky between breathless kisses. “The most honorable display,” he kisses him again. “Of all American manliness I have ever seen!”
Panic wells hot and painful in Dell’s throat. He wrenches his mouth away from Soldier.
“Not here!” he hissed. His eyes scanned his surroundings – luckily most people hadn’t even paid attention to the two of them, most were busy demanding to be compensated for the scam Maximus’ owner had pulled on them all. Darn it, Soldier, Dell curses inwardly. They weren’t in the base, where the worst thing that could happen to them would be dirty looks or a disapproving comment.
But they weren’t in the base. And they were not in the presence of men-kissing-men-friendly company.
If the wrong persons spies them, they’d be strung up by their balls. Or worse.
“Why not?!” Soldier snarls. His mouth closes over Dell’s again.
“Stop!!” Dell pushes him. He doesn’t even do it consciously, but the shove was strong enough to send Soldier staggering back. He bumps into someone else.
“Hey! Watch it, dumbass!”
Soldier doesn’t even pay attention to the guy. He finds his footing and just stares at him. Dell cannot see his eyes – but he still knows that Soldier looked confused, and then, hurt.
Hurt.
Not physically hurt. When Soldier’s lips would draw into a scowl that masks the crippling pain from bullet wounds and burns with an angry bravado.
He had never seen the man emotionally hurt before.
It was the worst thing Dell ever had to look upon. The way Soldier’s face fell. His momentary hesitation, as if not quite knowing what to do with his limbs. The following rigid, stony posture that gave nothing away, shoulders squared. Jaw set. Face turned downwards slightly.
Something inside Dell feels like it’s forming cracks. Sharp, and painful. Regret suddenly takes hold of him. Why? Why did I bring him here, of all places? Why did I do this to him? To me? How do I even explain this issue to him? Would he even understand it?
He tries to form sentences in his head, tries to adequately explain his concerns – but all he can think about is one thing
I’m trying to protect you. The way you protected me. From the cold. From blood loss. From Spies.
From robots.
It threatens to all come out again. The fear. The anger. The pain. Weeks of successfully repressing it, of successfully tuning it out when he was so occupied with the Commando, it now threatened to break through the cracks and overwhelm him all over again.
It’s probably just the blaring music in the background. But in his ringing ears, it’s the sound of the drill.
Vzzz, vzzz.
It’s the sound of living machinery, Goliaths in the shape of his friends, stomping his way.
It’s Soldier’s voice, saying ‘I've been looking for you. Everywhere.’
His eyes wander – and spot a barn, not far from the two, standing alone and unlit in the distance, a few hay bales stacked in the front. No one was in there and no one seemed to pay attention to it, either.
Dell begins walking. He takes hold of the crook of Soldier’s arm, and to his relief, he finds the Soldier giving no resistance to his grasp or his coaxing to follow. He walks with him, towards the lonely barn, away from prying eyes.
“Where are you taking us, hardhat?” Soldier asks him, and Dell doesn’t answer.
The remains of adrenaline still throbbed in his limbs. He climbs over a bale of hay and Soldier follows.
“Private, what-?“
Soldier is grasped by the hips and pushed into the wall, tucked away in a dark corner. Dell stands on his tiptoes, and slots his mouth with his. The chatter of people and the low thumping of the music was muffled by the hay and the sturdy wooden walls, and even more drowned out by the low thudding of his heart.
Soldier hesitates for just a moment – and then he reciprocates with intensity. Sturdy arms wrap around him, his fists balling into Dell’s shirt, Dell’s arms wrapped tightly around Soldier’s waist, bodies pressed together tightly, desperately. Dell feels the other’s teeth scraping against his lips again, and instead of panic, Dell feels exhilaration blooming in his stomach. He lets his tongue run along the Commando’s lower lips, and Soldier complies at once, opening, finding him and their breaths mingle. Engie moans softly, and Soldier rumbles a satisfied murmur, deep in his chest, and it vibrates through Dell’s body, into his bones and into his insides, turning weak in the larger man’s arms.
The night is warm, and inside the barn it’s warmer yet. And Soldier’s body was always warm and sturdy and he doesn’t want to let go of him, to hell with all!
“ ’M sorry.” He says, between panting breaths, glancing up at the man.
I’m sorry for everything. For bringing us into trouble all the time. For yelling at you. For not being a better friend. For leaving you with nothing but a shitty little note, for nearly a year. For having to lie to you. For not doing anything to stop the robot war, to stop the Administrator. For dragging you away from the base, for bringing you down here, where you cannot just kiss a man and not run the danger of being killed, I’m sorry I can’t let you just have every fucking kitten and puppy on this green earth and -
Soldier’s hand curls on the back of Dell’s neck.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Engie.” Soldier says, candidly.
It’s like a gut-punch. He doesn’t know if Soldier had mind-reading abilities under that there helmet, but if he did –
Dell lets out a breath, slowly, because his throat feels like it’s throttled by an invisible hand. He bites his teeth against the storm of emotions currently taking hold of him, and laughs softly and just lets his forehead rest on Soldier’s chest for a moment. Hears the man’s intake of breath. Feels the soft thud-thud of his heart pumping against his cheek.
When he looks up, he smiles. “Okay,” he says, voice brittle and thin and not manly at all despite being at war with the wetness in his eyes at this very moment.
Better kiss him quick, before he sees it, he thinks, and slips his arms around him again, fingers curling around the fabric of Soldier’s shirt. Soldier holds him impossibly close, let’s his lips move along Dell’s, drowning out everything around them.
In the darkness, no one would see them.
Notes:
-gets unironically into bull-riding-
-never finishes this chapter-
lol!
Chapter 15: Not Responding
Chapter Text
The first three times it happened, it scared Dell shitless. Now it was just a nuisance.
He is awoken by a warm hand wrapped around his mouth, and a helmeted visage just inches away from him. Soldier raised his finger to his lips.
The first time it had been two dogs in the distance, barking their heads off and Soldier had believed they were hunting dogs, sent after them. For what reason someone would send hounds after them or who would be the culprit, not even Soldier could answer that. Nevertheless, he had grabbed Engie by the feet and dragged him into the bathroom, physically blocking the door with his body and headless yelling had ensued. It had taken nearly five minutes for Dell to get through to him, and another fifteen to convince him to open the door again and go back to bed.
The second time it was someone’s car alarm going off in the middle of the night. Soldier’s knee-jerk reaction had been to believe someone had snuck into the base and snatched their intelligence right under their noses. This time Engie was pulled from his bed and ordered to pick up his ‘sorry ass and defend HIS intelligence’, and for a dazed, half-awake moment, he actually had believe it too, searching frantically for his goggles and wrench – only to find neither, and realizing they were a good few hundred miles away from the base.
The third time it were some rowdy teenagers, probably drunk, with no regard for how loud they were while passing the old Conagher farm. Engie had actually awoken from that as well, and counted down to ten. Soldier was at his side by four, shouting something about “Korean invaders at their door,” even though the kids were drawling the local Texan dialect like only drunk teens could. He had to physically pry Soldier’s shotgun from his hand before he could go out there and murder them.
He doesn’t know what it is this time, but he already prepares for another shouting match in the middle of the night.
A quick glance at his watch tells him it’s early, but nowhere near early like usual.
Then, he heard it. The telltale noise of the garbage truck, slowly sliding down the road.
“Jus’ the garbage collection, yer dummy,” Dell says and yawns.
“Where do they take the garbage?” Soldier asks, almost sounding anxious, as if concerned for said trash.
This man has not spend a day in a normal, civilian lifestyle, he has to remind himself before he’d burst out into laughter – or growl in frustration.
“Dunno. Landfills, I hope.” They better had, considering he was paying a good chunk of taxes for this.
Satisfied with that answer, Soldier slides his hand from Dell’s face again. The Engineer yawned again, hoping that would settle the matter, and he could go back to sleep. He’d still have a few more hours before Soldier would kick him out of bed at six am sharp for morning exercises. And just as he managed to get comfortable again, he is awoken anew. This time by a far more concerning noise.
“This is MY mailbox! You will not TOUCH my mailbox! You will not LOOK at my mailbox unless given permission!”
He is up and running down the stairs in nothing but his whitey-tighties and a shirt, stumbling through the broken door and out into the chilly Texan morning air.
Soldier’s hand had curled around the front of a poor, terrified looking mailman. “What business do you have with MY mailbox?!”
“S-Sir, please I’m jus’ here ta deliver letters.”
“Letters? LETTERS? From whom, maggot! Speak, or I shall MAKE you speak!!”
“I dunno!” The kid whines. “We ain’t allowed to look!”
“WE?!” Soldier jerks the kid like a dog with its toy. “WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT SHIFTY ORGANIZATION ARE YOU PART OF??”
“Soldier, dagnabbit!!” Engie runs up to them. “Let him go, right now!”
“I am in the MIDDLE of an INTERROGATION!”
“G-get him off me!” The boy pleaded. Soldier snaps at him: “DO NOT TALK UNLESS SPOKEN TO, YOU MILKSOP!” He shakes him again, so violently Engie fears he will seriously hurt him. If I don’t intervene, he might actually will.
“Sal, if yer don’t let him go right this instant!!” He lifts his finger, just inches away from Soldier’s nose, and despite just having been rattled out of his sleep, his voice is loud and carries across the yard. Soldier genuinely looks surprised.
“But I-“
“NOW, Sal! Or I swear, ta the Lord above!”
And that finally does it for the Commando. His hands unfurl and the kid falls from his grasp, stumbling backwards, sputtering. His eyes are bulging, face white as a sheet. “Git the hell outta here.” Engie tells him. The kid blinks, at him, at his feet then. Upon being attacked by the Soldier, he had dropped whatever mail he had meant to deliver. He makes no efforts to pick it up.
“Th-That guy ain’t fucking right in the head!” the man curses, turns, and runs back to his bike. He’d never seen someone drive off that quickly.
“Threat neutralized.” Soldier reports.
“Hell,” Engie bends down and picks up the dropped letter, now caked in dirt and slightly soaked. “Yer listen now, Sal! I’mma not have yer scare off the darn mailman again, ya hearin’ me?”
“He was displaying HIGHLY suspicious behavior!” Soldier crosses his arms before his chest.
“He was deliverin’ the gosh-darn mail, Soldier! It’s his job!”
“Putting UNAUTHORIZED documents in MY mailbox is not a job, it is TREASON! It could have been poison! It could have been a bomb! It could have been advertisement!” Soldier looked most horrified at that last prospect. “Had you not interfered, I would have squeezed his little secrets out of him like a RIPE ORANGE! He JUST confessed he has accomplices!”
“He…you…” Dell squeezed the bridge of his nose. “He was talkin’ bout other mailmen.”
He had expected some outlandishness from the man. Some odd Soldier-eque antics here, some there – but boy, had he underestimated the severity of this situation. I have to teach him to live like a normal person, or he’s gonna kill someone, Engie knew.
“Listen now. Y’all are NOT going to attack any more mailmen. Ya heard me?”
Soldier scowled. “They are untrustworthy!”
“They are doin’ their darn job, and yer ain’t making it easier fer them. No more yellin’ at the mailman! No more getting physical with anyone unless I’m tellin’ yer. Ye hear me?”
He had to stop this now, lest running the risk to have Soldier running after every poor sop getting close to their mailbox, like an angry dog.
The air was a tad too chilly for him out here, so he moved back into the house, grumbling angrily under his breath while browsing through his poor, stained mail. Bills, of course, now that electricity and water was running again. Still nothing from Miss Pauling, though.
Oh, would you look at that. Advertisement for anger management classes.
“You are too trusting, hardhat.” Soldier says.
“And yer too darn quick-fused.” Engie slammed the letters down on the table. “The heck am I gon’ do with ya if’n yer getting’ hands-on with the wrong type’a’character and get heckin’ shot?”
“Bullets mean nothing to me. I EAT bullets for breakfast!!”
He doesn’t get it, does he?
“We ain’t registered in the respawn outside the base! Yer getting’ hurt out there, there ain’t comin’ back from that!”
Soldier opens his mouth. Snaps it close again. When the military man has no reply at the ready, Engie sighed, rubbing his eyes. Gosh, it’s too darn early for this.
“Git back ta bed, Sal. Sun ain’t comin’ up fer the next two hours anyway.” Dell knew he would.
“Sir, permission to supervise the perimeter, sir.”
“Fine. Fine, do what ya gotta do. But yer not attackin’ anybody again, ya hear me?”
“Loud and clear, sir.”
Yeah. God knows if he would keep that promise.
Blissfully, Engineer awakes not two hours later, feeling slightly more rested than before. He perks his ears – nothing. No yelling. No indication of a fight breaking out. The birds were singing, the crickets chirped, the rumble of a combine in the distance – the sounds of his childhood. Engie sits up and rubs his face, looks around the room that was one his parent’s bedroom. He still remembers waking up in the middle of a night from a nightmare, and slipping under the covers between his mother and father.
He still remembers when his mother dragged him in here to scold him whenever he became particularly rowdy, more often than not receiving an ass-whooping on top of it. He still remembers telling his mother about his wedding plans, and the tears that flowed from her eyes upon those news.
And the tears that flowed when Dell had to ultimately tell her said wedding would have to come to an abrupt end, following his soon-to-be-wife’s infidelity.
The last time, it was in passing. He had gathered the last bits of importance from his room, and he had cast a final gaze into this cozy alcove, with its rustic wooden bedframe, the huge, old wardrobe, the campy flower-patterned carpet and drapes. The smell of his mom’s perfume.
The house had always been filled with some sorts of noises. Either the tv or the radio, blaring old country songs, the footsteps of his mother over the hardwood floor, the busy clanking and creaking inside Radigan Conagher’s workshop, the whinnying of horses in the barn, Fred Conagher’s endless speeches of self-importance.
Now, the house was quiet. It had been his greatest fear when he decided to leave the base to go homeward – that he would not recognize this place anymore.
The silence reminded him of the droning silence at the battlefront. When the silence is worse than the noises…
He gets dressed and begins brewing coffee. Soldier is nowhere to be seen.
Neither was Lieutenant Bites. Usually the critter sat by the dining table, chirping and screeching until he was being fed a liberal amount of bacon and eggs and pancakes and whatever tasty morsel he could get before sliding back under the couch. When Dell looks outside the window into the yard, he did not spot the iron helmet or heard the noise of his boots stomping up and down the beaten paths, and glancing out in the fields showed no trace of him either.
Had Soldier run away? Where would he have gone to, though? He wondered if Soldier perhaps had taken his truck and driven down into town. To buy more honey, he figured. But as he glanced outside, his car was still parked.
He takes his cup and a second one for the Commando out on the porch, puts it down and takes a glance about.
“Sal?”
No response. He calls him again, a bit louder this time, and the only reply he gets is the startled squawking of a crow.
Once again, Engie questions himself – if I were Soldier, where would I go?
Almost instantly, he tilts his head up to glance at the top of the farmhouse, absolutely positive he would see the man perched atop, like a helmeted vulture.
He was not, and that was somewhat of a relief. Don’t think the roof could handle that. He glances at the bulk of paint buckets and wood he had stored in the old shed. Thanks to Sal and Ol’ Joel helping hands, Dell managed to revamp most of the old Conagher farm by now – the old, brittle floorboards were taken out and exchanged, so where the windowsills and panes. They gave the exterior a new coat of gleaming white color, sending Dell back twenty years ago mentally. The last time it had been this bright and homely had been when he was still a kid.
The last thing that was missing was that broken door. And the roof. An idea Dell was not really looking forward to – but he knew with Sal at his side, he could get it done in less than a month.
Less than a month…
Two months had come and passed – and there was still no message from Miss Pauling. As Dell had suspected, she would try and hold him off as long as she could afford it. For a moment, Dell had actually believed this was just a very well worded layoff after all. A quick check of his finances the last time he had been downtown however told him that this was not the case. The paychecks still came.
Pops used to say he shouldn’t look into a gifted horse’s mouth, but rather to eye the giver.
Engineer glanced into the old workshop and found it dormant. Same for the small barn.
He tells himself not to panic.
To not let the idea of Soldier, running amok on poor little Bee Cave, terrorizing mailmen and buying preposterously large amounts of honey from every supermarket close by, discombobulate him.
Maybe he took a trip down to his elderly fanclub?
Dell sighs, sipping slowly on his cup of coffee, enjoying the warm breeze on his skin.
“SCREAMING EAGLES!!!”
Engie wheels around and lets out a startled cry. Soldier lets out a startled cry.
They scream at each other in shock for five seconds, before the tinkerer stops, letting out an angry curse as his dropped coffee soaks into his pants and socks.
“What in TARNATION?!” Dell pants. His voice carries over the hills, and surely the entire neighborhood had heard him.
He had to blink hard and multiple times until his mind catches up with his eyes – Soldier stands before him, stark naked, dripping wet, and knee deep in the narrow brook that separates Dell’s house from the cornfields beyond.
Something silvery and shiny glistens in both of Soldier’s hands, thrashing around wildly.
“You slippery little SCUM-SUCKER thought you could escape MY TALONS!?” He gives the poor gasping fishes a jerk with every annunciated word. “THIS AMERICAN EAGLE JUST GAVE YOU A LIFT INTO THE NEXT BUTTERED PAN, CAPTAIN NEMO!”
He tosses one towards Dell. “Catch, Private!”
“What?!”
He catches it, despite his entire body rebelling against the idea of holding that slick, jittering animal anywhere close to his freshly washed clothes. It gasped for air, wiggling frantically inside Dell’s hands.
“Shoot!” he drops it. It continues flopping uselessly on the ground before his feet.
“What in Sam’s hill yer doing in there?!”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Soldier was smirking from one ear to the other. “I caught us dinner!”
The water runs from his bulging arms and down his wide chest. His dark body hair clung to his slick skin, running down his midriff, pooling in the nest of trimmed pubic hair and –
“S-Sal, git outta there! The water’s freezin’!”
“HORSE-CRAP!!” He threads through the water and comes ashore. “It’s just a little nippy! NOTHING thick-skinned Soldiers like us cannot take! Isn’t that right, Lieutenant Bites?”
In Dell’s shock, he had not even noticed the furred creature, clinging desperately to Soldier’s shoulder. It had shrunken in size through the water weighting down its coat, large bulging eyes gawking back at him in utter shock.
“Hell, Sal! Yer gonna kill the poor thing!” Despite Lieutenant Bites’ history of being rather briskly when touched by anybody except Soldier, Dell picks the quivering creature up and quickly wraps him up in his coat. Swaddled like a babe, the raccoon seemed way too shocked by his spontaneous subaqueous adventure to even snarl or snap at him.
“NOTHING can kill Lieutenant Bites!” Soldier protests. “He was run over thrice, and I brought him back each time!”
“Then y’all ain’t gonna go and try it a fourth time, ya hear me?”
Dell finds Soldier clothes hanging from a low branch of an oak, leaning over the current of water. He wondered of Soldier had decided on skinny-dipping, which then escalated to catching fish – with his bare hands, mind you!
“How long have y’all been out here?”
“I have done nothing but catch fish for three hours.”
“Three hours? Like THIS?”
“Yes!”
Unbelievable.
“Soldier, there are fishin’ rods in the darn shed!”
“I – Oh.”
Soldier opens his mouth, and snaps it shut again. And then: “Why would I need the use of a rod? I can GRAB these slippery wusses with my hands – if only they would LET ME!”
He picked up the still flip-flopping fish Dell had just dropped, now marinated in dust and dirt.
They were fat, brown catfish with impressive whiskers. And they just happened to be Dell’s favorite fish out there. He had no idea how Soldier managed to catch them, bare hands and all, since these little things were notoriously hard to find in these waters. ‘Too smart for their own good,’ Pop’s used to say.
An idea comes to his mind.
But then Soldier interrupts him: “I shall bring these inside, to the others.”
The…others?
“Sal,” Dell frowned. “How many fish did yer catch?”
“Twenty six! NO!” he looks at the two in his hand. “Twenty eight!”
Technically, there was no need for this. Technically, Soldier had just assured that they’d not run out of fish for the rest of the month AND half of the following, filling his poor little freezer with so many dead-eyed catfish he struggled to properly close it.
But something about the lake had simply called him the second he had spotted the beaten path, and memories of his childhood flooded his mind. Pops and him, sitting at the shore, fishing rod in hand, and just enjoying the tranquility of nature. Sometimes the old man would start telling him stories of his life. Sometimes Dell would tell his grandpa about what he wanted to be when he grew up.
He wondered what the old man would think of what has become of him now, if he was still around.
When Dell looks to his left now, Pops was gone. Instead, Soldier sat there, casting a quizzical glance at the fishing rod in his hand.
“When does it start?” he asks.
“Start what?”
“When does the catching start?”
“Well, if’n I could tell yer that, we’d have this there lake empty by now.”
Soldier pouts down at his rod, clearly unimpressed. But Dell closes his eyes for a moment and relaxes in his chair, enjoying the tranquility. The sound of birds. The scent of wood, mixed with the slightly swampy quality of the lake. He listens to the soft sloshing of the water along the shoreline, riding up stones and tree roots and bristling along small white pebbles that line the bottom of the pond and
the waterside.
When he concentrates closely, he can almost imagine he’s back here, just six year old. Still taste the root beer and s’mores on his lips. The aches and stiffness of age gone from his limbs. And the only worry in the world was if that pretty brown haired girl in school liked him back.
It’s unceremoniously broken when Soldier speaks again.
“This is horse-crap!”
Dell is taken out of reminiscing right away. “If yer yellin’ round like that, you won’t catch anythin’ either way.”
“Why do people reduce themselves down to rods and being QUIET?” he repeats his previous question, not heeding the tinkerer’s warnings of being more silent.
“Not everyone’s so keen on standing knee-deep in ass cold water fer hours. B’sides, it takes lotsa patience and a quick hand.”
“Those are qualities EVERY American should have, anyway!” Soldier argues. “How else do you think our god-blessed forefathers FED themselves?”
Robbing the natives, for one. Dell didn’t pay much attention to any classes that weren’t physics and mathematics, yet he knew that for a fact.
But that was hardly what the Soldier wanted to hear.
“Well, modest folk nowadays are comfortable jus’ loungin’ round, enoyin’ the calm of nature, and waitin’.” Dell looks at the bobber across the lake.
It’s a subtle prompt, emphasized by Dell slipping deeper into his seat, closing his eyes, and returning to listening into the quietness, hoping Soldier would, or could, follow suit.
There’s a pause between the two for a moment, with neither speaking nor doing much besides glancing out at the water. Dell feared the Soldier would grow tired of this quickly and leave – but he didn’t. He stays in his seat, leaning forward on his spread-apart knees.
That is, until his rod suddenly moved with a tug.
For a second, Dell thinks he just misinterpreted the man’s movement as a bite. Until the rod bend forwards again, angrier now.
“Sal! Yer got one!”
“Got what?”
Dell points at his rod. “On yer rod, ya dummy!”
“What? Oh!”
Soldier, despite likely never having used a rod for fishing, had such feline-quick reflexes, his hands tightening around the wood and jerking it upwards.
“That’s the way, pardner! Now reel it in!”
“How?”
Dell knew if the Soldier continued sitting here, not doing anything, he’d lose his catch. So Dell jumped from his seat and ran over to him, leaning over his shoulder.
“Here, look.” He places Soldier’s hand on the crank of the coil. “That’s how yer gon’ draw it to shore.”
“Roger that!” Soldier cranks the handle so violently, the coil howls in strain.
“No! No no!”
“But you JUST said –!”
“You have ta do it slowly! Else yer gon snap the darn line!”
And considering how hard the rod was jerking forward, bending sharply down, like a solid muscle was stuck to the hook and curling and furling with angry thrashes, Dell figured it was a huge catch too! Soldier harrumphed, but did as Dell said, now cranking slower. Dell’s hand lingers on his and the rod. “Here, lemme show yer how yer do it.”
He shows Soldier the motions of letting the rod go flaccid, pulling in the line, then giving it a firm jerk upwards, then repeating the process.
“That’s the way, hoss.” Dell grinned. His rod may stay dormant, but Soldier seemed to have magic hands when it came to fish.
That is, until a scaled, green head pokes out of the water, hook firmly stuck in its elongated, equally scaled snout. He instantly knows what it is and flinches away in horror.
“Oh, crap!”
“It’s a big one, Engie!”
“S-Soldier, let go of the rod!”
“WHAT?”
“I SAID LEGGO! That ain’t no fish, that’s a darn all-“
“YOU’D LIKE THAT, WOULDN’T YOU?” And Soldier stands, pulling the rod back with all his strength. The alligator comes flying out of the pond, hissing angrily, a row of sharp, long yellow teeth snapping furiously at them.
Dell is so flabbergasted, he falls and scrambles away, kicking up pebbles and mud and soaking his shoes. The alligator charges at him, thoroughly pissed of someone dared to drag him onto the shore, and looking for some fresh meat to sink its nasty teeth inside. Its yellow eyes glinted with hunger.
“HUTTAH!”
Soldier jumps, grabs the animal by the jaw and hooks his feet and arms beneath its head in an iron sweatbox-grip. “Gotcha now, you scaled commie!!”
Thrashing angrily, Soldier is swung back and forth, but holding on tightly, somehow.
“Jesus Christ!” Dell scrambles to his feet. Dear god, this goddamn yankee-doodle is gonna be torn to bloody shreds!
“That long haired, hacky-sack playing, sandal wearing hippie is NOT gonna help you now!” And Soldier’s hands dig into those powerful jaws.
“NECK SNAP!”
There’s a sickening crunch, the reptiles massive head suddenly dangling from a rather unnatural angle and visibly deflating under the Soldier’s powerful thigh. Legs and arms twitch helplessly, but surely enough, it was dead.
“Good night Irene…”
“Good night, indeed!” Soldier’s shirt is shredded slightly at the hem, where the alligator narrowly missed his belly, and his pants are soaked. Dell is so utterly taken aback by the fact the Soldier not only caught, and not only survived the attack, but in the process managed to kill it too.
Where the heck they gonna store a damn seven foot alligator, what with their freezer already stuffed…?
They decide on hanging the limp reptile from a sturdy ceiling beam in the workshop, like a wet, scaled, swamp-green towel.
“Heaven’s ta Betsy,” Now that shock and adrenaline has subsided, he can do nothing but laugh at the entire situation. “If’n mah Pops knew we jis’ strung up a darn alligator in his here workshop.”
“He’d like it?”
“Boy, he’d smack us upside down, n’ then ban us from ever fishin’ again, n’ then he’d go and make us the best alligator steaks in the whole wide world.” Too bad Radigan Conagher never wrote down his recipes because Dell had absolutely NO idea how they would go ahead and even begin fileting this thing.
They sit there, Dell having brought the folding chairs back inside, and a cache of beer.
“Where is your grandfather now?” Soldier asks him, casting a canvasing glance along the workshop, like said grandfather was still in here but hiding.
“Been dead fer thirty years.”
Losing his grandpa had been one of the hardest things in the world for nine year old Dell at the time. Soldier nods, slowly.
“What about your parents?”
Funnily enough, when he mentioned them, the pain that still remained in his heart whenever he thought about Radigan Conagher seemed to dissipate there.
“Well,” he shrugs, opening his beer. “They died while we were deployed. Can’t really say when, honestly. I jus’ know my ol’ Ma stuck ‘round a while longer than my Dad.”
He has half a mind to ask Soldier the same question, but the man turns in his seat and glances at him.
“Do you know where they are buried?”
“Err.” Well shoot. That’s a question he can’t answer.
Taking one, two too many moments long to answer, Soldier drops his bottle and stands so quickly the folding chair collapses.
“The people that GAVE YOU LIFE are dead and you don’t even KNOW where they are now?” and then his face fell in shock. “You – HAVE YOU BEEN TO THEIR BURIAL, AT LEAST?”
“I…no, I haven’t.” How could he have, when he had been neck deep in work at the time, and most likely not even in the States? And even if he was…
He wondered if he would have gone, either way.
Soldier looks mortified.
“I AM APPALED AND UTTERLY SPEECHLESS, MAGGOT!”
“Shucks, Sal, I ain’t happy about that either.” He rub the back of his neck. Heck, he should feel horrible. Right?
How come this wasn’t the first thing he thought about when he came here? Their stay approached the three months mark now, and not once had he even considered asking where Fred and Donna Conagher could’ve been buried.
Or maybe, he didn’t WANT to think about it.
Didn’t want to imagine his father’s face, glancing at him with utter disgust, seeing his only son didn’t return to the farm with a gaggle of kids and a beautiful wife in tow – but a man.
Didn’t want to think about his Ma, crying again in the bedroom. Didn’t want to think about the sour smell of booze and peppermint, hanging heavy in the air.
Didn’t want to think about his sister Gloria…
He talks a breath and blinks. “Maybe…Maybe Ol’ Joel knows.”
He is grasped by the lapel of his shirt and dragged from his seat. “Then we will go to him NOW and ASK him and pay our RESPECT TO THEM! THEY DESERVE IT!”
Dell sputters, but Soldier leaves him no time to pack up or anything, instead pulling him along.
“H-Hold it, Sal, I can walk on mah own!”
“You couldn’t CRAP on your own if it wasn’t for ME!” Soldier hollers. His pout had deepened on his face, nearing that telltale scowl he wore when he was particularly vexed by something. If he had known Soldier would be so sensitive to this topic, then heck, he’d have dropped it.
“You are an UTTER DISGRACE to your family name! You are a SAD EXCUSE OF AN OFFSPRING!”
“I-You- You take that there back, right now!”
“NEVER!” Soldier barked. “What son are you, that you leave your SUPERIORS to DIE ALONE!?”
Anger bubbled inside Dell. This darn Yankee-doodle didn’t know a darn thing, and throwing accusation around like its hot pie!
“I shoulda oughta lay yer RIGHT out for saying that!”
“YOU CAN PRACTICE YOUR EFFEMINATE EXCUSES OF FIGHTING AFTER WE VISITED YOUR PARENTS GRAVES!”
He was dragged all the way to the old wooden hut, and Soldier hammered a fist against the door.
“Dagnabbit, Sal!” Engie gives his arm a push. “He’s an old man, keep the noise down!”
“SIR OLD JOEL, SIR, YOUR SERVICES ARE REQUIRED!”
“Hell!” Dell gives him another shove, and this time, it snaps Soldier out of his angered frenzy. “Yer a goddamn jackass, ya know that?”
“Y-You will stop that horseplay instantly!” and Soldier shoves back, and Dell grasps Soldier’s arm to immobilize him and runs the risk of being dragged into a full nelson by the larger man. And then the door swings open.
“Gosh-darnit! I told yer two jarheads not ta fight on mah damn property!!”
The two mercenaries glanced up at the old man, and almost simultaneously, let go of each other, hands tucked behind their backs.
Ol’ Joel frowned at them with malcontent. “Yer beatin’ mah damn door down like the Russian’s are comin’. What’s the matter?”
“NOT THE RUSSIANS, SIR!” Soldier salutes. “Permission to disclose issue, Sir!”
Dell rolls his eyes, and quickly explains the issue, in a tone that didn’t rose half of Bee Cave.
Ol’ Joel’s face softened.
“I see,” he says, completely earnest now. “I can show yer, if’n yer ready.”
Dell wasn’t ready. And he probably never would be.
“Ready as can be.” He says, instead.
It’s tiny, wooden crosses, standing upright under a large oak tree, in the middle of the corn field. That was more than Dell could really ask for, what with his absence, and no money to buy a proper headstone. I oughta take care of this now that I am here, he thinks.
The wood on Dad’s cross is more worn down than Ma’s. Which made sense, seeing as he died four years before Ma did. And still, the graves were in better conditions than Dell had feared. There were no fancy words carved in the wood, no sophisticated quote about ‘how death is just the beginning’ and all that crap that people liked to use to cope with the loss of a loved one.
It’s just their names.
Fred Conagher, 1892-1969 & Donna Conagher 1894-1973.
There are no flowers, trinkets or candles.
Next to them is Pop’s, with a proper headstone. When he had been laid to rest here, the tree was still younger and greener. Dell wondered quietly if his parents had wanted to be buried next to Radigan, out there, anonymously and undisturbed by the presence of other headstones. Ma would have. Dad? Not so much.
Dad would’ve wanted a grand ceremony. With all his friends, and his entire family, with long speeches and flowers and all that grandiose stuff which only the most important and most loved people could socially afford. Likely to mask how empty of a life he actually, truly lived.
Soldier and Ol’ Joel stand a small, respectable distance behind him, with the older man pressing his straw hat to his chest, and Soldier stiffly saluting. Lieutenant Bites clung to his shoulder, brooding in alert silence.
Dell knows this was the part where he should silently say his goodbyes to the two people there, unable to hear his manifested voice. But it’s only his mother he speaks to.
‘I hope you’re not disappointed in me.’
He knows Pop's wouldn't be. That's more than enough for Dell.
He steps back. Backs up until he slightly bumps into Soldier’s puffed out chest and flinches. The Commando stands, back straight and rigid. The only thing missing would be a billowing American Flag in the background, Dell thinks, and makes a noise somewhere in his throat.
The man must’ve misinterpreted that noise, as he said: “Permission to lay that façade down now granted, son! There is no dishonor in mourning our fallen Soldiers.”
“Whu?” Dell chuckles nervously. “I ain’t cryin’.”
Well, maybe a little.
Ol’ Joel steps forward and places a small bundle of cornflowers he picked on the way up the hill on the grave. Soldier has nothing to offer but his pure American patriotism, so he stomps up to the grave and with a firm voice, he declares: “Sir, I did not know you, nor did I know your rank – BUT! You raised one of the most valuable asset to our team, and that speaks for itself!”
He then manipulates one of Bite’s paws to salute as well.
A graveyard was either the worst or the best times to laugh. But Dell grinned, either way.
...
“I reckon that gravekeepin’s been yer work?” Dell turns to Ol’ Joel, who hums as a confirmation, placing that straw head back onto his balding head. They were making their way down to his truck again at the bottom of the knoll.
“Ain’t got the money fer a headstone. But I do know sum’one who knows his way ‘round woodworks.”
This was beyond just keeping an eye out for an old friends and employer’s house. Dell knew the old farmer had to have dipped deep into his pockets to afford these crosses, and that was a deed that Engie knew he could likely never be able to pay back with how much gratitude he felt.
“I’mma make sure yer getting’ properly compensated.”
“Oh, dun’ worry,” Ol’ Joel shook his head. “Ain’t no money worth to an old man anymore.”
“Still,” Dell’s train of thought is interrupted by Soldier, running through the yellow field of growing wheats, chasing after his pet raccoon, hollering for him to return this instant.
“Still,” he picks up again. “Whatever yer need, do let me know. Anythin’, I promise yer.”
“Y’all could help me finally die, and in peace, if’n yer so inclined,” Ol’ Joel laughed, and stopped again to rub at his sore limbs. “Them knees are killin’ me.”
Dell could not promise such a thing. Heck, at this point, he couldn’t even promise the man a way to extend his life, permanently, anymore.
“Well, I could fix yer up sum new pairs of legs.”
“Feh,” Ol’ Joel grimaced. “Dun git me wrong, son. I do value my real legs, still. I know’s yer kids are startin’ ta dip yer literal toes into this robotic doohickeys, but I reckon this ol’ fella’s gon’ have ta pass on’at.”
“Fair enough, Jus’ know me n’ my apprentice,” Dell nodded towards the Soldier, who finally caught up with the hissing, biting animal, in the middle of playful roughhousing, “Are in town fer a while longer. So If’n yer need anythin’, we gon’ make it happen. Ain’t that right, Soldier?”
“What?”Lieutenant Bites had his fangs firmly clenched around Soldier’s nose when he looked up. Not even slightly fazed by the pain.
“Boy,” Ol’ Joel laughed hard at that sight. “Yer really oughta stop messin’ with the local wildlife, or you gon’ git yerself worms.”
“Lieutenant Bites is my second in Command!” Soldier argues, giving the hissing animal a tight, loving squeeze.
“Well, come along then, Soldier. And git yer second in Command down here, too!” Dell waved for him to follow them to the red truck.
“SIR! Yessir!” he said, eagerly, and comes skipping down the hill.
“Ain’t he sumthin’.” Ol’ Joel pushed his hands into his hips. “I git why yer took a shinin’ ta him.”
Dell laughs nervously. “Well, we’ve known each other fer a good ten years by now, and ye either grow ta like one another or ta hate each other in that timeframe. And trust me, y’all don’ want Soldier fer yer enemy.”
“Yer luv him.”
Dell snaps his head around like an owl, gawking back at the older man in shock. The old man’s smirk widens, seeing the wide-eyed and slack-jawed expression of surprise on Dell’s face and taking that as his confirmation.
“L-Luv is a strong word,” Dell stammers, laughing nervously and rubbing the back of his neck. “I’d say we, err, well – we’re friends. Best friends, I reckon. S’ppose there’s sum level of luv in there but-“
“I ain’t talking about THAT kinda love, Dell.” Ol’ Joel rolls his eyes at the younger man’s vain attempts at explaining himself. “I mean yer IN luv with him.”
Dell swallows. Suddenly his mind draws a blank, and he couldn’t even defend his case even if he wanted to.
“Dun’ try denyin’ it now, Dell. I can see it. The way yer talkin’ to him, the way yer lookin’ at him.”
His shoulders slump. He feels shattered all of the sudden, knowing the man before him would never look at him the same ever again, and worse, probably despise him too. He suddenly couldn’t even glance at him, the old man who took part in most of Dell’s childhood. He hates that he feels ashamed – at himself, perhaps.
Dad would hate me, he knew.
Ol’ Joel, however, just smiles, giving his shoulder a friendly but very firm pat on the shoulder. “Now now, there ain’t no reason ta look so down in the dumps, son. Yer oughta be happy, shouldn’ya? Luv doesn’t come easy these days.”
Dell clenches his jaw, casting a surprised, confused, and then uncertain glance. “I jus’ ... honestly, Joel, I jus’ expected ya to-“
“Hate you?” The older man shakes his head. “No son. I’ve had my fair share of hate out there. ‘Specially when it comes ta lovin’.”
Ol’ Joel glanced at the floor. “My brother used ta love. Pretty gal, jus’ nineteen. They were the happiest couple I’ve ever seen. The mob found out. Strung him up, they did – fer the simple crime of luvin’ a white woman. No, Dell – I don’t hate yer. Not fer the fact that ya love a man. But I sure would hate yer if’n yer go and deny it. To him, or yerself.”
Dell doesn’t even know what to say.
Soldier joins them, raccoon firmly pressed to his side. He clicks his heels and salutes. “At your service, sir.”
Ol’ Joel gives Dell a knowing grin and approaches him. “Soldier, is it?”
“Yessir!”
“Is that the name yer mother gave ye?”
“…No, Sir.”
They stay there for a moment, with Soldier not disclosing that information to either of them, and Ol’ Joels seems to accept that as it was. “Yer the real deal, then?”
“Sir?”
“Yer served, yer said,” Ol’ Joel cocked his head. “Where did ya say it was?”
“Sir, Poland, Sir. 1945”
“S-Soldier fought against the Germans.” Dell added, as if that would help.
Ol’ Joel frowned. “Must’a been a short service then.”
“Sir, my time was 4 years sharp. My service began 1945.”
There was a bout of silence, before Ol’ Joel folded suddenly with raucous laughter. “Heaven’s ta Betsy,” he wheezed. “Them bastards send yer out at the END of the war? Hah! Oh dear, send yer off fer cleaning services, eh? Hunted down the last of the trash! My, my.” He gave the stiff Soldier a firm pat on the shoulder. “Listen, friend – y’all keep a good eye on that there boy out there, ye hearin’ me?” Ol’ Joel nods to Dell. “Knew him since he was jis’ a diaper-shitter, n’ I plan on dyin’ before he does. He’s the last Conagher out there - So yer better be keepin’ him outta trouble, yeah?”
Dell laughed, maybe to mask the violent blush burning on his face.
“Sir, absolutely, Sir!” Soldier salutes enthusiastically.
“If you feel the need to talk about them, you have my permission to.”
Dell glances up from his seat towards the man adjacent to him.
“Where did that come from all of the sudden?” he laughed.
Soldier pursed his lips in thought. “Tavish … RED Demo told me it’s a sociably accepted thing to do when one loses a parent. When he lost his mother he was crying like a coddled puppy. ” He had his back leaned into the log and crossed hands resting on his stomach while watching the flames dancing in the night. Lieutenant Bites chewed on the remains of their dinner.
At the end of the day, Dell still had no idea what to do with the alligator in their workshop, and went with what he knew best – authentic Texan barbeque. Just drench that mother-hubber in enough BBQ sauce and garlic and hope it’s edible.
It tastes pretty much like chicken. Oughta be prepared and cooked like chicken as well, right?
When he lifts the lid and the black, charred remains of his beautifully marinated attempt at an alligator steak stares back at him, he realizes it might not be ‘just like chicken’ after all.
If only Pop’s was here. It wasn’t the first time he wished the old man was still around to give him advice, but ever since Soldier brought his name up, well…
Radigan Conagher would have probably smacked him upside down for letting ‘such a good cut of alligator go to waste’ by simply lathering it in any spices that he could get his hands on. In the end though, when he switched from whole steaks to just small cuts with grilled bell pepper and zucchini, Soldier seemed more than pleased with it, still licking his fingers clean. Even when dinner was done and over, and the two had relaxed into a comfortable silence, listening into the evening. The sun was slowly disappearing behind the hills, drenching the sky in pretty pink and purple hues, the silence disrupted by the tranquil chirping of the nightingales and crickets and the crackling of the fire – and Dell’s fingers, gliding along the strings of his guitar. If there was two things Dell Conagher had not grown out of in size and age, it had been his spurs, and his guitar. It was untuned to all hell and back, but even when he sat down, the old thing leaning on his thighs, and he began to tug at the strings and turning the pegs until the sound came out right, Soldier did not seem to mind at all.
“Hmm, well.” Dell sighed, and leaned back into his seat, fingers tugging absent-mindedly at the strings, eliciting soft melodic noises. “Dun’ think there’s much ta tell about.”
Besides, the only things he remembered about his father were the bad things. The crippling gambling addiction. The narcissistic rampages that pushed everyone away, striving so desperately for fame and love from strangers. The deep-seated hate and judgement on his own son, for preferring the presence of his grandfather more than his. The alcohol.
‘The curse of money,’ Pops used to call it. Thanks to him, Dell and his family never had to suffer hardships when it came to finances. But the good times lasted about as long as Radigan Conagher was alive. Once the old man died, and Fred Conagher was no longer restricted, he nearly depleted all savings Pop’s had put aside for hard times. Nearly costed Dell his education. Nearly costed them their house. Donna Conagher turned to god. Dell Conagher turned to his studies. And Gloria Conagher…
It was fitting then that Fred Conagher, who thought himself the second coming of a messiah, died alone and with no friends and no name for himself – other than the title of the black sheep of the Conagher herd.
When Soldier didn’t press the question further, Dell continued strumming the guitar. Dell looked down at him and marveled at the fact he had never seen the man so calm and relaxed before. Never had one day passed where Soldier wasn’t alert and always ready to spring right into action. Whenever he was with the man, he could practically feel the endless source of low, vibrant energy that buzzed in Soldier’s presence, under his skin, in his bones.
Tonight, though, he looked absolutely tranquil and, dare he say…happy. He couldn’t even begin to fight the smile on his face at that notion. He’d not intended for the Soldier to accompany him out here, and yet, having him here now, it was good to see he was not particularly sad about being out of commission for so long. Dell had been sure Sal wouldn’t endure more than a few days without fighting someone, and return back to the base. He wouldn’t have blamed him either.
But almost three months had passed now. And not once did Soldier seem to regret his decision of coming along.
“Sal, what’s on yer mind? You’ve been awfully quiet since this mornin’.” Dell hoped it hadn’t been Ol’ Joel’s comment about Soldier’s service that had his mood soured. Dell had never asked him much about it either. He figured the man would talk about it on his own volition. If he ever wanted to.
“Look, if what Ol’ Joel said to yer about -“
“He said you were the last Conagher out there.” Soldier interrupted, speaking slowly. “Yet I am currently occupying your sister’s room.”
Oh wow. Dell had not imagined this is what kept Soldier’s mind rattling.
“Which means that either he’s lying,” and suddenly Soldier scowled at him “Or that picture I found in your sisters room was YOU, IN A DRESS AND IN A WIG, AFTER ALL!”
Dell laughed. He just couldn’t help it.
“Do NOT laugh at me, I DID NOT ASK YOU A QUESTION!”
“Lord above, give me strength.” Dell brushed the tears away. “Dun’ tell me y’all been spendin’ half of the day ponderin’ whether I’m secretly a crossdresser.”
“Wh—ARE YOU?”
“OF COURSE not!” Dell smacked his knee, laughing. “Geez Luise, wouldn’t that be somethin’?”
“Then – where is she now?”
Dell glanced up at the sky, watching the stars slowly fade in onto the darkening sky. “Y’know the saying money can’t buy yer happiness?”
“Affirmative.”
"Well. S'ppose yer could say we weren't a proper happy family then. Pop’s worked his literal ass off ta assure me n’ my parents a proper life. We’d never have ta go hungry a single day.” He continued playing desultory chords while talking. “But money alone ain’t gonna assure yer a fulfillin’ life. My dad was obsessed with gettin’ more money, and in the process, he wasted it all on horse racin’. Thought he was some big shot. Better than everyone else. He lived a life surrounded by fakers n’ bootlickers, until he ran all his money dry.”
Dell leaned in closer. “‘The curse of money,’ Pop’s called it. When y’all have excessive amounts of somethin’ yer forget the value of it over time. There’s no thrill to it anymore. My sister found her thrills in alcohol.”
He always needed a beer himself when thinking about it, and lifted the bottle to his lips. “Messed ‘round with the wrong crowd. Got pregnant at sixteen. When she delivered her girl, we didn’t even know how bad it really was. She’d been deep in the bottle. Too deep fer the kid to live long. She…”
He gulped. “She couldn’t even sober up ta hold her own baby.”
He didn’t know how long he’d been staring at the dusty floor before he blinked and glanced up. Soldier looked at him, not saying anything.
“Ahem. Well.” Dell laughed softly, hoping to lift some of the awkwardness. “Last time I saw her was in the hospital. After that, she ran away. Dunno where she is now.” And he probably never will. In most of Bee Cave’s mind, she was probably dead. And Dell realized with a start that she had died a long time ago for him as well.
“What was her daughter’s name?”
Dell inhaled a deep, steeling breath.
“Irene,” he told him.
There was a long, quiet pause. Dell knew better than to succumb to the heartache, no matter how old these scars were. If he tore them open anew, he would give into the shadows that lurked in the corners of his mind. And god knows what the curse of money could do to him then.
“Ah, shucks. Now look at me, properly ruinin’ the mood.” He grinned and sat up, resuming to play on his guitar. The music chased those shadows back into the back of his mind. “So, why don’ya tell me a bit ‘bout yer own home n’ family? Can’t be worse than mine.”
Soldier stiffened. Dell couldn’t tell if he was thinking or frozen up in either anger or fright.
“Line of Soldiers, then? Yer Dad a soldier too?”
“Yessir,” Soldier said, facing the fire. “Major Sergeant.”
“Wowee.” Dell whistled lowly. “Ain’t that some role model ta look up to.”
The Commando doesn't reply.
"And yer mom?"
Soldier squared his jaw. Something told Dell that the man in front of him was not entirely happy the subject of the conversation had pivoted down this road. So, instead, Dell tried something easier.
“Yer missin’ home?”
“No sir.”
Dell looked up again, and paused his playing. “Really? Not even a bit?”
Soldier’s lack of stirring emotions seemed to answer that."The battlefield is my home. It is the BEST HOME a man could ask for!" he crossed his arms before his chest. "There are MANY like it - but it is mine!"
“How bout' yer childhood home?” The Texan leaned in further. "Yer folks still round?"
Soldier cocked his head. “I…I don’t know.”
He really doesn’t have anywhere to go, Dell realized then. No place to be when he grew too old for rocket-jumping and killing people. Nothing to return to. No one to return to. Which gave him an idea. An idea that, he realizes then, he’d been mulling over for a few weeks now. Never having the courage to ask him. Never having the hope to believe he would agree to it.
But now?
“May I ask y’all a question?”
“What is it, civilian?”
“Did that … roommate of y’alls ever get out of incarceration?”
“Merasmus?” Soldier asked. Lieutenant Bites instantly dropped whatever tasty morsel the critter got his grubby little fingers on upon hearing that name and with a hiss, scurried off into a different direction.
“Negatory!” Soldier shook his head, scowling disapprovingly. “That sack of bones is still in jail. Haven’t heard from him since either. I tell you what, gear-pants, that maggot is the WORST roommate. He hasn’t kept HIS part of the lease in half a year!”
Dell felt bad for somehow having hoped for that. Because now his deal would sound that much sweeter.
“Not to mention, his castle has been ceased by the Yakuza – well at least until I beat the CRAP OUT OF THEM! These slit-eyed fiends were tattooing my raccoons in there! Can you believe that? Then the police showed up and I beat THE CRAP out of THEM as well!”
“Why the heck did yer go n’ beat up the police too? I reckon they were there to help!”
“I have crossed the law before, hardhat and let me tell you. They are PANSIES! They are UTTERLY USELESS! One half is slow and fat and the other half were women.”
Dell sat up quickly. “What? When?”
“Teufort! Met RED Demo at the ribs place frequently. Tavish kept insisting on meeting there, or else we’d run risk of the purple lady that yells at us and pays our bills to find out.” Soldier crossed his arms, snickering at the memory. “One day he brought this special swirl with him and we shared, until Demo blabbered something about Scotland being a real country and not part of England and of course I had to CORRECT him on this falsity and we got into a proper brawl, right there, at the ribs place! Beat that cyclops half to mush! Those nancified maggots owning the place then called the cops, and we then beat THEM half to mush when they tried to take away our freedom to BEAT EACH OTHER HALF TO MUSH! Haha!” Soldier laughed.
Note to self not to ever get political with Soldier when he’s tipsy.
“Right.” Dell pressed his lips together. He takes a swig from his beer. Places it down again. He hoped for some liquid courage – but it doesn’t come.
It only made sense, in his eyes. His roommate was gone, and Soldier likely had no actual home to ever come back to. So why not make one for him?
“Well, since you n’ Lieut seem ta enjoy it out here, I reckon…”
He’d have a community here. A roof over his head. Stretches of land that reached far, and he could be as loud and boisterous as he wanted. But it would never be his beloved battlefield, and he’d never have to fight in his life ever again. Which was Soldier’s most, if not THE most important thing in the world.
How could I go and take that from him?
But he’d have a home, Dell rationalized. And Soldier could wrestle with him every day if he so wished. Dell could build them some beehives and they could make their own honey, and then he’d have as much as he liked. He could volunteer at the elderly care facility, they loved him to bits. Dell could build Lieutenant Bites his own enclosure. Heck, if Soldier wanted to continue his raccoon sanctuary, then Dell could make it happen. He could…
“I reckon…“
CRASH!
Simultaneously, the tinkerer and the Commando lifted their heads in surprise at the noise that came from the barn. Angry chittering, mixed with equally displeased whinnying.
Soldier sprang to his feet. “MERASMUS! I didn’t mean what I just said! You are the BEST roommate! Please don’t haunt us!!“
“Relax, hoss.” Dell stood quickly, shrugging on his jacket. “Jus’ the horse n’ Bites.”
Dell and Soldier quickly rushed to the gate, and found Lieutenant Bites, angrily hissing at the tall equine, striped fur raised, and currently having a stare down with the gelding over a bucket of carrots, tipped over and strewn across the rushes. Just like his owner, Bites seemed to dislike horses with a vengeance, maybe even more than cats.
“Hey, hey, easy.” Dell placed a comforting hand on the horse’s neck. “Else yer gon’ wreck that nice new leg I made fer y’all.”
Just like Soldier had suggested, Dell had made him his own personal gunslinger – just in the form of a hoof. Sturdy and flexible, it would guarantee the animal could walk and sprint on it to its leisure. It had been a proper joy, watching this old, worn down gelding suddenly come alive again on the pastures Dell had taken him to for a test walk – suddenly he was just a young colt again, jumping around, sprinting, galloping with joy of being rid of that wooden leg.
Now the horse was fiercely stomping the floor in warning, neighing angrily at the critter.
“Lieutenant Bites, you NEARLY gave us a heart attack!” Soldier picked the critter up, hands under the raccoon’s stubby arms. “I thought Merasmus teleported his spectral ass over here ready to curse us – again!”
The raccoon looked absolutely spooked at that idea, dark eyes wide and small jaw slack. Soldier shoved his pointer finger into the raccoon’s chest. “Bites, at ease! That is an order! Ouch!”
Bites bites him.
The horse slowly calmed down, but not without throwing a few choice horse-words at the critter in deep, agitated chuffs. Then it glanced at Dell, brown eyes saying ’can you believe this?’
“Now, now, y’all shoulda oughta have the good sense ta share, y’know?” Dell picked up the bucket. “There. One for yer, and here’s one for yer.” Dell shoved one between the horse’s lips and offered another one to the raccoon, who let go of Soldier’s fingers to instead sink his teeth into the other finger-shaped object shoved into his face and spring from Soldier’s grasp to scuttle off into the darkness.
Dell couldn’t help but chuckle. “Boys, eh?”
“Yeah,” Soldier was suckling on the bleeding punctures on his knuckles. “I will have to drill that behavior OUT OF them, yet! Make MEN out of them. YOU TOO, Genghis Khan!”
The horse blinked in surprise at the bleeding digit shoved into his face.
Dell approached him. “C’mere, lemme see.”
Dell had stopped counting the amount of times he warned the Soldier about all sorts of diseases his beloved pet could carry, with rabies being the top concern of his. But the more bite marks the Soldier received and the more he refuse seeing a specialist for it, the more the Texan was convinced that Soldier was simply immune to pretty much everything at this point. Dell's hand took hold of his.
“I am not in need of a nurse.” Soldier argued, but Dell would have none of that.
“Don’t that hurt like three sons’a’bitches?” it looked terribly painful. A row of sharp canines piercing the skin of his thumb and parts of his palm.
Whatever the Soldier wanted to answer, his voice dies in his throat when warm air tickled over his skin, and soft horse-lips bumped against his knuckles. Soldier flinched once he realized the horse had stretched his neck down towards them, rubbing it’s snout against his arm and hand, but even if he wanted to pull away, he could not, with Dell’s own hands around his.
The equine sniffed at Soldier’s fingers, recognized his scent. And then, Soldier made a sudden startled noise in the back of his throat as a warm, sandy, wet tongue brushed along his hand.
Dell laughed. “I told y’all you’d never get rid of him ever again.”
“W-What is this HORNLESS RHINOCEROS doing?!”
Soldier seemed way too startled to try and make for a retreat, while the horse very gently lapped along his skin, brushing away the blood and sweat that had accumulated there. Dell just could not ever get tired of his comical degree of fear over horses.
“Guess he heard yer sayin’ somethin’ bout a nurse.”
“I-I SAID I don’t NEED a nurse!” Soldier huffed and pushed the horse’s snout away. “Take your freelove back to Canada, where it belongs-!“
Instead, the horse nudged him again, playfully trying to find access to Soldiers pockets, in hope to find another tasty sugar cube.
“Y’know, I dun’ think we ever did give him a proper name.”
Soldier glowered disapprovingly at the animal. “If this hairy maggot does not CEASE doing that, I will refer to him as nothing but as HAIRY MAGGOT!”
The horse chuffed disapprovingly. “Doesn’t seem ta like that,” the tinkerer smirked, letting his hand run along his long, wide neck. “Hmm. What do yer think, Sal?”
Soldier pursed his lips, glanced down at his missing hoof and up to the top of his head. Then to Engineer’s hand. And back to the animal’s gunslinger-hoof.
“We should call him Engineer.”
Dell smirked. “That ain’t a name, Sal.”
“Yes it is! It’s YOUR name, isn’t it?”
“It’s a title.”
“W-Well then – call him your name.”
That elicited another a warm chuckle from Dell’s chest. “Y’all wanna call him Dell?”
“Dell.” Soldier repeated, glancing between the animal, and towards him again. It sounded nice, carried by his low, raucous voice. He’d never put much thought or weight to his name, and it somehow never sounded as lovely as it sounded, spoken with a sort of gentleness, by the war-roughened man before him. Unfortunately, though…
“Well, we can’t have two Dell’s runnin’ about here. Would jis’ be too confusing.”
“Nonsense! We just call you Dell One, and him Dell Two.”
This was just too much for the Texan. He laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach. “I can’t.”
“CAN’T WHAT?” Soldier pouted, and it just made Dell laugh harder. “Cease your laughing, we are NOT at a women’s rights rally – we are at WAR, son! And every Private is referred to by his military-issued DOG TAGS – he has to EARN his name! He has to EARN his right to HAVE A NAME! How do you think Lieutenant Bites earned his name? BY EATING SUGAR CUBES and CHEWING on my SHIRTS?!”
The horse nudged him again at the mention of sugar cubes, teeth tugging at his coat.
“Heck,” Dell brushed a tear from his face. “ Ain’t that an idea. Why don’t y’all call him Private?”
Soldier opened his mouth – and snapped it close. He glanced up at those two large brown horse-eyes that blinked back at him. “Private,” he repeated. The horse’s ears flicked with curiosity, puffing out a plume of hot breath from its large nostrils, and returning to chewing on Soldier’s clothes.
“He seems ta like it.”
Soldier puffed his chest out and shoved his finger into the animal’s face. “Son, I do not agree with your hair-length OR clothes-chewing lifestyle, and I do not like the fact that you lack ALL five toes or fingers – but you are now enlisted in MY army!”
Ridiculous – like almost everything the Soldier does. His face hurt from smiling like a simpleton, but he couldn’t help it. Just moments ago, the Texan was threatened to be swallowed by the grief of his past, and here he was. Laughing. It’s why he enjoyed having him around, he knows. He wouldn’t trade this for anything else.
‘You luv him’.
Dell reaches out for the closest thing he could reach on Soldier, that being his hand. The same he just held. The courage he’d been hoping for has finally come. He has to, now, for who knew what gods plan was for the two of them. And he'd surely hate regretting not asking him.
“Sal,” he says.
Blunt teeth wrap around the strap of Soldier’s helmet. With a nimble jerk of its large head, the Kevlar went flying.
A pair of the softest baby blues Dell had ever seen in his life stare back at him - slowly widening with realization. The barrier that had hung low over his face had suddenly been removed. And both men stare at one another, for the first time, with absolute clarity.
Soldier flinches away from him, a look of surprise and utter panic on his face. His eyes went searching, rolling in his head – until they catch sight of his gear, hanging a few inches above his head.
“G-Give that BACK, you bastard!” His fingers try and reach for the horse’s snout, but the equine towered over him, a mirthful glint on his eyes, the heavy helmet dangling from its mouth. It gave a playful whinny, thoroughly enjoying the helplessness of the man below.
“ DROP IT NOW!!!”
Thud!
His voice was carrying through the barn, louder than Dell had ever heard the man yell before, and his voice was ringing even in his ears. The horse jerked away with sudden fright, its rump colliding loudly with the wooden wall, chuffing nervously.
The helmet laid forgotten in a pile of hay. Soldier frantically dug, and once his fingers curled around the heavy iron helmet, he placed it back on his head.
Dell stared, utterly speechless. It had gone so quick. So quick, he could barely register what just happened. One second, Dell glanced at that small dent on his helmet, approximately there where he always had estimated the man’s eyes to be. The next, the softest, prettiest shade of blues stared back at him. Dell had never thought his eyes would be blue…
But surprise had quickly turned to shock when he noticed the Soldier’s demeanor. The man before him was shaking badly, chest heaving in deep, trembling breaths. His fingers curled tightly around the straps, as if afraid it could slip from his head again.
This, Dell abruptly and painfully realized, was not just one of Soldier’s strange antics – this was real. The man before him was in genuine, visible distress. He’d never seen the man in a state of fear before. Not often.
“Sal?” he asked, carefully.
The Soldier winces again, drawing a startled breath in, and stumbling backwards. His fingers dug deeper into the Kevlar into a white-knuckled grasp. Right now, Soldier looked so thoroughly spooked, it shocked Dell to his core. Dell tried walking up to him, hands raised slightly, like one approached a frightened horse.
“Soldier.”
“No.” the taller man shook his head.
It felt like someone was ripping his chest open, and reaching inside.
“Sal, it’s jis’ me.” His voice is thin and it feels foreign even to his own ears. “I ain’t gonna–“
“No!”
Dell stops immediately in his tracks. Frozen from the shakiness in Soldier’s demand. The same voice that pelted out orders, commands, expletives and war-cries with such vigor in every note, now reduced to the shakiness of a terrified child.
The invisible hand closed tightly around Dell’s heart.
Suddenly, Soldier moved. Suddenly sprinting past Dell and out of the barn.
“Sal, wait!” Dell called after him, but the man was gone, running into the darkness.
It took Dell several moments to calm himself, and then the poor spooked horse in his box down. Even though it just happened, it felt like he could barely remember what had just occurred. He’d never seen the man without his helmet. He doesn’t even take that damn thing off for sleep or for the showers!
Private glanced at him with doubt-filled, dare he even say, guilt-ridden eyes.
“Now, don’ya look like that. It ain’t yer fault.” The tinkerer softly pats the equine’s snout, comfortingly. “Y’all jis’ done spooked him, is all.” Dell hoped he could solve whatever just happened, once he returns to the farmhouse.
But when he opens the door, and calls out to him, the house is quiet. Deadly quiet, so. Dell doesn’t see Soldier’s boots either – maybe he kept them on?
He climbs up the staircase. “Sal?”
No answer. He knocks on his room. No answer. After a while, he opens it – and finds the room empty. And he finds every other room in this house empty as well.
Dell calls out to him in the workshop, and receives no answer. He calls for him by the riverbank, and receives no answer.
He stumbles down the path to the lake. “Soldier!” he calls. And receives no answer.
Ol’ Joel didn’t see him either. Nor did the neighbors left and right from the property. Nor the elderly in the care facility. Nor the clerk at the supermarket.
“Soldier!!” Dell calls, desperately, into the corn fields. Desperately calls to the hill where his family is buried. Desperately calls into the wilderness.
And receives no answer.
Chapter 16: Interlude I: And what is worse, I really do
Chapter Text
“Yer know yer should git in contact with the police, right?” He watches the old man pour coffee into two mugs, putting one in front of Dell. “Start a missin’ person’s case.”
“Joel, he… he doesn’t have any family out there lookin’ fer him, he doesn’t have a home, nothin’ registered about him. Heck, I dun’…” Dell swallowed thickly, averting his eyes with guilt. “I dun’ even know his name.”
What a great friend I am, he thought bitterly.
“Huh,” Ol’ Joel cocked his head. “They really do keep y’all strangers up there at Mann Co., huh?”
The old man seemed far more relaxed about the whole ordeal than Dell was, likely because people threatened to run away down here all the time, only to pop up in next town’s bar, drunk as a skunk, and returned home within the same week.
But this was seriously different. He doubts Soldier had booked it into any bar.
Dell rubs at the bags under his eyes, a result of the last 24 hours of searching all over Bee Cave and the surrounding small towns and villages.
“What exactly happened, anyway?” Ol’ Joel sat down next to the tinkerer. When the tinkerer shakes his head, Joel smirks. “Ohh, I git it. Y’all told him, didn’ ya?”
“Told him what?”
“Y’know, son – that yer fancy him.” Ol’ Joel smirked. “Bet he’s one of ‘em types that ain’t like ta prattle on ‘bout emotions. Git spooked by ‘em, I reckon. They beat that outta yer in the army.”
“Joel, it’s not that,” Dell rubbed over his eyes again, hoping the tension on his forehead would ease up. Instead, he tells the older man about that evening in the barn. “We two were jis’ hangin’ round the fire after dinner, we talked ‘bout my family. Told him ‘bout Gloria. Told him ‘bout Dad. When I asked him if he still has a place, or people, to come back home ta, he said no. Figured I could ask him ta stay ‘round the farm, once our contracts are over.” A pang of pain swiftly bloomed in his chest – because he never got to ask him. “Then his doggone raccoon went n’ disturbed Private – err. I mean the gelding. Horse is obsessed with ‘em, keeps nibblin’ at his clothes.” And another pang of guilt, like he was shot in the heart – this is partly my fault, too, he knows. He did this stupid prank with the sugar.
“Got a bit too cocky n’ took his helmet. Joel, it was … the look on his face …”
It haunted his dreams, as little as Dell got to sleep these last two days.
“I’ve seen that mother-hubber break bones n’ blast people into bloody bits with no hesitation. I saw him fightin’ a bunch of giant robots, n’ all that crazy son’uva’bitch did was laugh! Heck, he snapped the neck of a darn alligator, Joel!” he chuckled at the memory, just how ridiculously insane it was. “But Joel – his face … When that darn helmet came off, he … I … dagnabbit.”
Dell sighed, burying his face in his hands. “I tried ta calm him down, but…he looked so…he looked like I was gon’ kill him.”
After what felt like an eternity, Dell lifted his face again and glanced at the older man before him. Joel nipped at his coffee, a gray brow crinkled in thought. “Well, kid,” he murmured. “Reckon war makes yer a lil’, err… special.” He placed his cup down and scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Makes sense, dun’ya think? Reckon he has suffered through somethin’ out there, n’ now he can’t live without that helmet on.”
Dell had figured so as well. He just never asked him – it was just something Soldier did. At the beginning it had been a tad strange, granted, but over time, Dell just learned to accept this bit about the Commando. Had he known the man would react like this, he’d never…
Despair was threatening to take over, because Dell was surely, and truly, running out of places he could go to and search for the man. What was the saying? The first two days were crucial when it came to finding a missing person. Anything over three days and the chances of the person being found alive would plummet into the one-digit percent.
Alive. God.
He knew he should follow Ol’ Joel’s advice and get help from the police. But how much COULD they feasibly help with what little information about their mercenaries Mann Co. allowed to find its way into public records? He’s gotten involved with them, he knew, and maybe if he contact the police in Teufort County, they could help with…
And then Dell remembers that Soldier’s last encounter with law enforcement ended up in him beating them up.
Something the sheriffs down here would absolutely not tolerate like Teufort might.
They’d goddamn shoot him if he rasied his hand at them!
He stands suddenly.
“I have to find him,” he said, glancing out the window. “I already lost my sister this way. I can’t … ” he sucks in a steeling breath. “I can’t lose him now as well.”
He’s carrying Pop’s rifle, Lieutenant Bites under his arm, hoping the critter could sniff its owner out, out here in the Texan wilderness. He had hoped the animal would miss Soldier, but seeing as the raccoon ended up more interested in a scent-trail of food or nearby waste bins, Dell continued on without him. He searches the riverbanks and caves, calls his name into the holes, and just hopes no bear had made it its humble abode. But no bears comes out of there, and no Soldier either. He finds a campsite, buit not luck there, either. And then he nearly smacks himself in the face. As if Soldier would ever stoop so low to go and camp. Hah.
He laughed so loud, he startled a young couple in their flimsy little tent.
He asks local rangers and hikers if they had seen a man, about six feet, burly, with a helmet. None had seen him, with one particularly cocky one commenting: “Well, we get loads of nutjobs down here. Homeless. Addicts. Don’t think we had a nutjob addict veteran down here.”
It seemed like a joke to the guy, and Dell wished he could sock him in the mouth.
He dials the number to the BLU base.
“Ja, Hallo?”
“Doc?”
A pause.
“Dell? Dell, is zhat you?”
Dell swallowed. “I’m sorry doc, I know it’s late I – heck, I know this is completely out of the goddamn blue, but –“
“Dell, slow down. I can barely hear you.” Medic instructed, and the Texan realized he’d been stumbling over his words as he spoke. He inhaled and then continued: “Doc, I’m sorry, I just have ta ask – did Soldier come back to the base at any point?”
“Soldier?” Medic audibly furrowed his brows. “I…I thought he is vith you?”
“He is – I mean – he was. I…dag-it, doc, forgive me.” He ran his hand along his face.
“Dell, calm down, take a deep breath, okay? In, out. Like zhat, yes.” Frustrated, and impatiently, Dell follows the instructions, sucking in deep breaths and exhaling and it doesn’t really help at all. Anxiety was coursing through his mind for the entire day now.
“Good. Now, vhat vas it you just said?”
“He ran away. Soldier – he ran away.”
“Vhere are you right now?”
“At home – I mean – in Bee Cave. Long story, doc. Soldier came with me down here, been here with me the last few months. I dun’ – I dunno what happened yesterday. Everythin’ was fine, then he jis’…” Dell glanced out the window, watching the settling sun. “Jis’ tell me that jarhead is back at the base with y’all, safe n’ sound.”
Medic paused again.
“I…I’m sorry, Dell. He’s not been back since you and him, vell … left.”
It’s like a slap in the face. If Soldier wasn’t back there, the only place Dell surely knew he could have run off to – then where was he?
The throbbing between his eyebrows increased tenfold.
“Right,” he sighed.
“Dell, vhat happened? Vhy did Soldier run avay?”
He tells the physician everything. Every detail, because right now just knowing SOMETHING, being one hundred percent sure about something was more comforting than the gnawing anxiety of not knowing.
“Oh, Dell.” Medic’s voice was soft and thin. “I…I am so sorry. I vish I could help you.”
“Dun’ worry, y’all are helpin’ enough.” Dell muttered, the strength gone from his voice. “I … I gotta go now. I’m sorry fer the disturbance.”
“Dell, vait,” Medic replied, seemingly feeling Dell’s hand lowering the phone again. “If he does show up here, I vill let you know? Okay?”
“Right,” Dell nodded.
But two days passed, and the call doesn’t come. About the time frame a man like Soldier would need to either walk or hitch-hike his way back to New Mexico.
Next thing Joel suggested were Missing Person’s posters. But Dell didn’t even have a goddamn picture of Soldier. Helmet or not.
I am the worst friend on earth, he realized. I don’t have pictures of him, I don’t have his contact information, any way to reach him – I don’t even know his goddamn legal name.
His posters, with nothing but his physical description, are slowly drowned under the ones with proper pictures, the last time he visited Bee Cave’s blackboard.
He browses the phone directory in the local library, running his fingers down the list of M names, both of people and businesses.
Mermaids Cove Club, Meridia’s Beacon bookshop. Merasmus the Magician.
“COWER, MORTAL!” the voice blares through the phone. “Cower before the power of MERASMUS the MIGHTY! State your business, mortal – what is it you desire? Money? Power? Women? I can turn you into a cloud! Or make you eat your own fingers –for a small fee of a few hundred dollars, I will read your future in the cards! OR YOUR PAST! Or your present!“
“Shucks, err,” Dell interrupted him. “I’m so sorry, is this Merasmus the Magician?”
“A clever mortal! Who is asking?”
“Y’all don’t know me, but –“
“HURRY UP, MEAT!” Blam blam! Someone was punching against something metallic. “The other inmates wanna get their calls done by today as well!”
“FOOLS! You don’t TEST THE POWERS OF A WIZARD!”
“I’ll give yer a good test of my bludgeon, meat! HURRY UP!”
“Ugh,” the wizard groaned. “Pardon me – who did you say you were?”
“Err,” Dell struggled out of his discombobulation. No doubt about it. This was the man Soldier was talking about.
“Look, err, y’all dun’ know me. But I heard you n’ Soldier were roommates ones?”
“Soldier?”
“Yeah, uh Soldier. From Mann Co.?”
Silence.
“Do not call me again.”
“What?”
“Do NOT call this number again. EVER! I CURSE this imbecile and ALL his raccoons, for a hundred years! NO! A THOUSAND YEARS! HE IS THE WORST ROOMMATE! GoodBYE!”
“W-Wait, I gotta ask yer what –“
Click. The coin slips into the payphone.
There’s a knock at the door. It’s early, very early in the morning, and Dell just knows it’s him. No one was up that early, except for Soldier. Roused from his light sleep, he blinks at the watch. 5:29 am.
“Sal,” he calls, hastily shrugging on his cardigan and slippers as he stumbles down the staircase and up to the door. “Fer the LOVE of god, Sal! Do yer have ANY goddamn idea how –“
The scrawny face of a mailman glances back at him. It’s the same Soldier nearly throttled last time.
“O-Oh, uhm. I’m so sorry, Mister. But, err…” the kid’s eyes moved nervously from Dell and over his shoulder, inside. “Th-That insane guy who lives here starts yelling when I touch the mailbox. S-So, err, I reckon I just deliver them to you personally.”
Dell barely registers accepting the stack of letters. Or closing the door. Or slumping into his seat.
Bills. More bills. Advertisement for anger management classes.
He begins browsing the local newspaper as well as the news in the neighboring three counties. Hoping to catch an article about a man that could possibly fit Soldier’s description. There was just no way a man like Soldier would not stick out like a sore thumb in any community – dead or alive. His breath catches when he hears of a dead body, found at the bottom of a gorge on the TV news. And goes dizzy with relief when the dead man is revealed to have been just a teenager.
Every time the door knocks, there’s hope. Dell hurried to the door again, just hoping, no – praying that it’s Soldier. And not a police officer telling him they found him. Dead. Or carried off to the nearest asylum.
“Dell, hon!”
Dell blinks against the sun assaulting his senses as he tears open the door. But he recognizes the voice.
“Err…Mrs. Lanwick, was it?”
“Miss Landwick. Dear.” Her smile was as white and pearly as marble. “I’m so sorry, is this a bad time?”
“I-uh. What?”
The old lady stretched her head, glancing over Dell’s shoulder and inside. “Well, you seem to be on the go, hun.”
“I ... oh.” Dell glanced down at his feet and realized he’d forgotten to take his boots off. He’d returned home from his search in the adjacent cornfields about two hours ago, but seemingly never registered he still wore his boots, dirt-caked. I ruined the carpet, he realized numbly.
“How have you been? You look pale, dear. Are you eating enough?”
“Uh.”
“See, I was wondering, since you never did call the number I gave you – we are having a dinner party at my daughters house today. I’d so love for you to come.” She squinted further inside his house. “Hope you wouldn’t mind if that, ahem – friend of yours is not invited?”
Dell doesn’t answer. Friend.
Friend … ?
He suddenly has an idea.
“See, my niece will be attending too. Remember I told you about her? She’ll be cooking for us tonight. You would LOVE it, I just know it. She is very excited to meet –“
“Actually, Mrs. Lanwick,” Dell cut her off, stepping out on the porch and closing the door behind him. “I am on the go.”
He slips another dime into the payphone and bites his lips with anticipation.
“Ayy, who dis?”
Dell breathed a sigh of relief. “Hey, uhm. Shucks. Err. Is this – Tavish De Groot?”
“Aye, that’s me.” The deep Scottish voice rumbled from the other side. “Engie, is that you? Uh – why are you callin’ me from yer little toyshop doon there? Need ‘noother bag of the good stoof?”
“I – what?” Engie shook his head. “No, nono, this is uhm – crap. Listen. This is BLU Engineer.”
A pause.
“The fook yer doin’, callin’ me yer blockhead? Yer attemptin’ ta bootter me oop or what?”
Dell remembered why he hated interacting with the RED’s, cocky bastards as they were. “Yer keen oon another ass-whoopin’, are ye? Or are ye jis’ daft, eh? Need it said to ye twice, eh?”
“Look, buddy.” Dell grit out.
“Hoow’s bout I spell it out to ye – I-will-kick-yer-arse-soo-hard-ye’ll-have-a-twitch!”
“Will y’all jis’ listen ta me fer one doggone second?”
“Ohh, ye wanna chat now, eh? What? Ye lookin’ fer a date? How’s bot we arrange soomethin’ romantic with me boot up yer arse an’ ye little bra washer in shambles-!”
“It’s about SOLDIER, daggit!”
That seemed to raise the other man’s attention. “Soldier? Ye mean – my Solly?”
“Yes,” Dell grabbed the payphone box with his free hand and leaned forward. “Listen, I wanna bother y’all as little as possible, believe me – but I’d not call you sons’o’bitches on my own volition if it weren’t important.”
“Ach, soons uf bitches, ye said? Laddeh, I promise ye, ye on a fast track to a proper domination –“
“JUST LISTEN ta me you– ugh.” His head was throbbing. “I gotta know – is he with you? Is Soldier with you right now? Did he git in contact with y’all? Did he say or do or…jis’…anything helps.”
“Wait, what?” Demo blurted out. “What does that even mean? Isn’t he at ye base right noow?”
Oh boy, he’d really have to explain the whole story to a RED, didn’t he? Fuck it, he thinks, and explains the situation. By the end, Demo began muttering under his breath.
“So? Can yer help me or not?”
“Oh, crumbs. Well, I’m sorreeh lad, but Solly hasn’t been here. Nor did he git into contact with me. Dunnae think we spoke in, err – I’mma say, three months now.”
Dell’s forehead collides softly with the hard metal case of the payphone.
“Uh, lad? Laddeh? Ye still there?”
“I…I’m sorry, can you jis’…” his eyes sting. “Can y’all do me a solid n’ call me back if you DO hear anythin’ bout him?”
At the very least, Demo agreed to that. A moment of silence followed, in which Dell’s mind was circling like a carousel, trying to think of some other place he could be at right now, somewhere he could call -
“Lad, I may be contractually obligated te hate ye guts but – Ye goona go n’ find me Solly, will ye?” Demo sounded genuinely concerned. “He still owes me twenty bucks.”
“Yeah,” Dell sniffled. “Wait, uhm. Before yer go – I gotta know. Did he ever tell you anythin’ bout his real identity? His name? Anythin’?”
Demo hummed in thought. “Ye tryin’ te git the police involved? Eh, dun bother, boyo. Solly would beat ‘em oop ta paste, even IF they’re there to help him. Trust me, I’ve been there. Och, that was a night to remember, lad, I tell ye. We were so drunk, we wrecked the whole ribs place ta bits! N’ then we beat oop the fuzz, too! Harhar!” He suppresses a belch. “Uh, what was yer question again?”
“Nevermind. Thank you.”
Click. The coin slips into the payphone.
Hope died with every knock on his door that followed. Each time, it was not him.
It’s the mailman, and sometimes it’s Ol’ Joel, making sure poor Dell Conagher hasn’t gone cuckoo yet. Telling him he shouldn’t give up hope. “Jus’ keep spreadin’ ‘em Gone Missing posters,” he said, and patted his shoulder comfortingly. “Someone will find him, eventually. I’m sure of it.”
One time, it’s Miss Lanwick again, grinning up at him, babbling on about coming over for a BBQ-party and her niece being there. He gives an excuse and closes the door.
She pops up again, this time with carrot cake. A peace-offering, perhaps? Dell realized then that the old hag must’ve assumed the ‘friend’ Dell harbored in his home had left, and now was the perfect time to strike and hook him up with her niece. Wash the name of the Conaghers clean. She didn’t say it like that, of course not – but the indication of “I think it is time you abandon these…divergences of yours and become proper serious about your life, hon. Y’all ain’t the youngest anymore,” said it all.
Divergences…
He lets Lieutenant Bites eat the cake.
A few days later, there she is again, and with her a young, slender thing with mousey brown hair and brown eyes, looking more intimidated than charmingly shy. Her eyes roamed along the porch, her shoes, his shoes - She doesn’t even look at him, he realizes numbly, while her grandmother keeps tattling on and on. But he notices the bruise on the girl’s wrist. Angry purple marks she tries to hide with her hands. This time he doesn’t even bother with an excuse.
“Y’know, I ain’t a man of god – but I know for a certain he hates those that hurt others. And I ain’t toleratin’ abusers on my property.”
The girl looked so thoroughly mortified it was a funny contrast to the icy mask the older woman put up upon his words. Before she can even retort, he snaps the door shut behind him.
After that, the knocks don’t come as often.
It seemed that after two weeks of Soldier going missing, Lieutenant Bites finally realized his master was nowhere to be found and chirped throughout the night, calling for him. Sometimes he scratched at the windows and doors and Dell had to get up in the middle of the night to let the restless animal outside, and then again at the ass crack of dawn, when said critter wanted to come back inside.
Dell had never seen a raccoon look so depressed. Sometimes he just sat there and glanced out the window, just like Dell did. “There, there, buddy.” He lets his fingers run through his coarse fur. “I know ya miss him. I miss him too.”
He missed him when he climbed into his truck and drove downtown, missed the way Soldier seemed to fall into car-trance every time and snooze all the way down to Bee Cave and back home. He missed the sound of his boots next to his when they walked through the cozy little town. Gods, he even missed arguing with him during grocery shopping.
Dell comes to a halt at the honey section. And suddenly he regrets every time he told the Soldier not to take their entire stock. Why in Sam’s hill did I go and tell him no, anyway? I have the gosh-darn money to buy this entire grocery store if I wanted! If he was here right now, I would buy him every jar of honey this doggone town had, I would …
He walks past Bee Cave’s Pound, the bottles of beer sloshing softly in his bag, the only items he purchased, and sees a bunch of golden Labrador puppies rushing over to the gates, yapping at him, short tails wagging excitedly. Why the hell did I not just buy him a goddamn puppy? Why did I not buy him ALL of his goddamn twelve Labrador puppies he kidnapped?
Why?!
There’s a knock at the door the next day.
“Still no luck?”
Ol’ Joel sighed, seeing Dell’s face and taking that as his answer. They sit together that day and eat and talk – well, it’s mostly Ol’ Joel talking.
That was, until Ol’ Joel raised the question of Dell’s and Soldier’s friendship. How long they went back. Since when Dell loved him.
“Long story,” he warns.
“I got time.” Joel said.
Dell tells him everything. Starting with their first day at Mann Co. - Soldier’s friendship with the RED Demo and how Engie invited him down to his workshop to get the grieving Soldier through the heartache of losing his best mate. Soldiers exercise plan for him. The time he replaced Pyro and went Spy-checking. The first time they kissed. The bed-sharing shenanigans. The ravine they fell into. The bread-monster incident. How Dell lost his hand and how Soldier nursed him back to health. How they build the gunslinger together. The robot war. His time with the Administrator. Watching the RED Soldier being tortured. Coming back to the base. Reuniting with Soldier. Spy’s attack at night. The reason why he and Soldier were down here. He even told her about Lanwick and the rodeo.
Ol’ Joel nodded.
“Y’know, I was thinkin’ – have y’all been wonderin’ if maybe he doesn’t WANT to be found?”
Dell looks up at him incredulously. “I … no. But I didn’t think … I mean …”
He pauses, and ponders that question.
“Well, son – Y’all might not wanna hear this, but … maybe he realized he’s in too deep as well. Could be he’d been spinnin’ yer a lie regardin’ the family thing. Could be he has some secret second life, after all? Some men do that.” He shrugged, slowly. “Maybe that helmet thing was the last straw?”
Engie had never even thought about that possibility. And somehow, it made everything just much worse. So, so much worse…Because then everything they went through, everything they shared, everything they established together, intentionally or unintentionally, yet equally wonderful – it would all mean nothing. Absolutely nothing.
What if he doesn’t want to be found?
There’s a knock at the door.
Dell is faced with a whole gaggle of elderly women, all speaking at once, but basically all asking the same question. Where was their strong, handsome, all-American patriot?
The crowd poured all the way down his driveway, some in wheelchairs, others hunched over canes, and others carried baskets of mashed potato and root beer with them, in hopes of luring their favorite Soldier out and back into their welcoming arms.
“He hasn’t come for a visit in nearly three weeks!” one of them complained.
It nearly breaks his heart to tell them the truth.
“I’m sorry, ladies,” he sighs. “He, uhm… shucks. He’s not here anymore.” It’s the first time he speaks this fact out loud. Not here anymore. The basket is left on his front door. He doesn’t even bother with it, letting whatever wildlife lived outside his premises to spirit it away.
Not that he had much use for non-alcoholic beverages right now, anyway.
Beer slowly failed to do the trick. Just took too many to properly get himself drunk to the point where he couldn’t form thoughts anymore. He bought the shittiest moonshine he could get and drank that. Lots of it.
It helped, at first. And when loneliness began to overtake him, he turned on the radio, and closed his eyes, and just imagined he wasn’t out here, all alone. That Momma was still here with him, just in the other room. That Pop’s was still alive, just tucked away in his workshop.
That Gloria was sitting at the table with him, softly humming to the tunes on the radio.
Every night away, every day alone
Get me back on my own two feet
I would lie awake and pray you don’t lie awake for me.
When he opens the freezer, he finds the last bit of catfish Soldier has caught for them was gone. Twenty eight. It had been his measure of counting the days. Now he couldn’t anymore.
There’s a knock at the door, and as Dell opens it, for the first time, he doesn’t expect it to be anyone but the mailman anymore. It only occurred to him once he accepted the letters and closed the door and sat down by the table, giving the raccoon’s head a gentle pat. The critter had grown docile, or, more likely, too depressed to find its power to snap and bite anything or anyone anymore. It purred softly and closed its eyes.
Bills again. As usual. A flyer slips from between the white envelopes and slides along the floor. When Dell went to pick it up, he realized what it was. Another one of those church flyers that invited folks around the neighborhood to attend services and, if possible, give them a lofty donation.
He’d never paid much attention to them. The few services he had attended in his childhood and teen-years had been more out of duty for the community and family than a place he actively went to on his own volition. God just never seemed to answer any of his prayers anyway.
After his sister disappeared, he lost whatever faith he still had. In his mind, no benevolent god would go and take her away from him.
Maybe it’s the wording. In bold, navy blue letters, the words ‘You are never alone,” are written on a white background, followed by more nonsense about how god is always with you.
Maybe it’s just the timing.
But Dell finds himself climbing into his truck that day and driving down to the tiny chapel by the local graveyard, small enough to accommodate only few people and anonymous enough to not run into another Miss Lanwick-situation.
It’s a small building, painted entirely in white, almost glowing in the bright midday sun. Only a pair of old people are sitting inside, speaking softly to one another.
Dell sits down on a pew. Inhales deeply, the scent of wood, wet stones and incense. Glances up at the effigy of the large cross, painted in immaculate white. He folds his hands. Leans his forehead against his thumbs, inhales. Exhales.
‘I know you and me ain’t exactly on speaking terms,’ he says in thought. ‘But if some loving, benevolent god really does exist out there, then…’
The elderly couple shuffles past his pew and towards the door. There’s a pause, then the sound of the gate closing. And in the silence, Dell speaks.
“Bring him home. Bring him back to me. Please.”
Droplets begin slowly peppering the cool, grey stone beneath his boots. Warm and salty.
“And if he doesn’t want to be found, then…” He glances up, the cross blurring with the wetness gathering in his eyes.
‘Then just keep him safe.’
There’s a knock at the door. It’s late in the evening and Dell had just finished closing the windows, turning off the lights, put the raccoon to sleep and shed his jeans and flannel for a more night-appropriate attire and had just been on his way upstairs to hit the bed.
He sighs, turns around, and slowly moves down the steps again, balancing his mug of freshly brewed tea in hand. Lieutenant Bites was roused from his nap, blinking tiredly and stretching. Then it chirped, somewhat annoyed. “Jis’ Ol’ Joel, I bet.” Dell gives the critter a gentle scratch beneath his chin that encourages the animal to curl its fluffy tail around its body and return to sleep.
He had half a mind to just ignore it. Pretend he wasn’t home, despite the light still burning in his bedroom. Whatever business the person had, it could surely wait until next day.
Not like Dell was much out of the house these days anymore. He’d given up running around the country side like a madman, and the bottle was now his closest companion. Helped him to forget.
But another knock followed, a bit louder this time. Dell huffed and shuffled across the living room. “Yeah yeah, hold yer horses, will ya? Shucks.” Must be really urgent then, he ponders. Maybe the old man locked himself out? He tries buttoning his cardigan with one hand and failing at it. Oh well. He opens the door.
“Y’all really couldn’t wait until tomorrow mornin’, huh-?”
But it is not Ol’ Joel.
It’s not the mailman, either.
And it’s not a gaggle of elderly women, either.
The helmet sways over his face as the man winces slightly under the sudden light pouring out of the house and onto him.
For a moment, Dell is sure it’s just a trick of the light. Or maybe he was just so tired, he was seeing things. Or perhaps, the old Conagher really had turned cuckoo, after all.
That was, until the man spoke. His voice low, raucous, rumbling and so, so familiar.
“Permission to enter, Sir?”
The mug slips from Dell’s fingers and shatters into a million pieces.
Chapter 17: Promising
Chapter Text
His fingers were covered in a sheen of grease, already cold, but nevertheless, the man ate. And he ate like a ravenous animal. Most likely was. God knows how long it had been since he had a proper meal.
Dell sat at the table and just … stared at him. Took him in. A mixture of awe and confusion, and of shock as well.
Dark bristles grew on his usually clean-shaven jaw, peppering his chin, his jawline, even his upper lip. The white cotton shirt Soldier had worn when he had run off was now more of a murky grey, covered in dirt. He was almost unrecognizable – if it wasn’t for the helmet. Even Lieutenant Bites didn’t seem to realize the stranger sitting there at the dinner table was his beloved master. He hissed and bristled and hid under the couch, dark button eyes staring intently at them. Soldier was a strong, broad man, always had been. He looked thinner now. Still strong, still broad and still very much able to kill if he wanted, but …
The layer of fat that cushioned his muscles was gone, that charming softness Dell had always loved about him.
They don’t speak. Neither seemed to know what to say at this moment. Of course, many questions were zipping at break-neck speed through Dell’s mind. Where have you been? What happened? Why did you run away?
He couldn’t decide which one he needed to have answered first and so, he just sat there and stared at him.
When Soldier was done, he had picked whatever was left of Dell’s meager dinner of roasted chicken clean to the bone. He’d have eaten the bones too, if he could, what with that intent glance at his empty plate. Or maybe, Soldier didn’t really dare look up yet, scared to face the smaller man.
“Uhm,” Dell heard himself mumble. “You … I-I mean.”
Soldier’s spine straightened in apprehension.
Dell swallowed what felt like the one hundredth time by now, even though he was positive there was no spit in his mouth left.
“Ya’ll … y’all should take a shower. Git that dirt off ya.”
Soldier did not say a single word. He simply nodded his head.
Dell numbly stumbled down into the laundry room, picked up a bunch of unused towels and ascended the staircase up towards the upper floor. Wordlessly, he passed him the stack of towels and watched as the Soldier ducked into the bathroom and closed the door. Moments later, he heard the water rushing down onto the tiles.
He doesn’t realize he’s standing there, staring at the bathroom door, until he heard the telltale noise of the raccoon’s nails clicking against the floorboards, followed by his chirping as he began dragging the bones from Soldier’s plate under the couch to nibble at the remains.
I should be happy, Dell thinks as he heads towards the kitchen. I should be elated, shouldn’t I?
Why wasn’t he?
I should be fucking furious, he thinks as he collects the scattered bones from the carpet and the floor and begins cleaning up. I should beat him like a rented mule for nearly driving me off the brink of sanity.
But why wasn’t he?
I should be utterly relieved that he’s not dead, he thinks as he picks up the broken pieces of porcelain from the mug he had just dropped and mopped up the spilled tea, soaking into the doormat.
But why wasn’t he?
The rushing water above his head subsided eventually. He hears shuffling upstairs, the rustling of clothing, the running of a faucet. As he sits himself down on the couch and listen into the noise, staring holes into the air, Dell realizes why.
I still don’t really believe he’s back yet. And somehow, listening into the noise, it’s almost as if Soldier had never really left either. As if that last month hadn’t come and gone at all …
Slowly, very slowly, his eyes drift along the corridor, towards Dell’s boots, leaning dormant against the wall. For the last four weeks, they had been the only pair of shoes standing there. No one else lived in this house, except for him.
Next to his stood Soldier’s military boots. Covered in mud and hay and entirely unpolished. He always keeps his gear polished, he thinks desperately.
His breath catches then. And there it is. The happiness. The anger. The relief. All at once, it crushed down on him, robs him of his senses momentarily. It comes in one tidal wave and nearly threatens to take Dell and wash him off the shore, pull him deep into the ocean and drown him. His fingers dig into the leather cushions of the couch.
Suddenly the door opens upstairs.
“Lieutenant Bites?”
Dell glances up at the ceiling and has to compose himself when he hears the man’s voice, again, for the second time this evening. The raccoon poked its furred head from under the couch, ears perched. He knew that voice, and with apprehensive chirps, the critter crawls out from under his hiding spot. It lifts its snout and sniffs the air. Then, with a speed Dell had never seen in such a small animal, it clambered up the staircase, a cacophony of chirps in its wake.
You should follow him, Dell realized. It takes him five minutes until he finds the strength to stand and walk.
Whenever Dell had gone to bed, he would have a good view on Soldier’s room. At the beginning he had kept the room open, glanced inside when he rested for the night, hoping it would not remain dark inside and unpeopled for much longer. Then, he had to close the door. It had been too painful to look into the murkiness and find no one inside.
For the first time in four weeks, when Dell climbs up the staircase, he sees light peeking out from the room. Warm orange hues that dispelled the murky blue of the night.
He finds him seated on his bed, his back turned to him, chuckling to himself as he gave the elated critter a round of ear- and bellyrubs. He had shed the old dirty shirt for a new one, one Dell had bought for him. The raccoon purred and grumbled and his little grubby clawed fingers pawed at Soldier’s face, gnawing affectionately on Soldier’s thumb.
All of this still felt unreal. So far away. Dell is almost too scared to make a noise or move.
He’s afraid of speaking out – afraid that this would dissipate when he did. But he had to.
“He missed ya.”
Soldier froze up. Slowly, he turns, casting a glance over his shoulder.
He looked better now, after washing off the grime from his skin. He’d shaved, too. Dell realized he liked him better that way, beardless, jaw darkened by that usual beard shadow.
I missed you, as well, Dell wanted to say. But the words don’t come.
Soldier opened his mouth and seemed to try and speak, too – when that didn’t work, he simply stood, slipping back into that stoic straight-backed stance, hands folded on his lower back.
It took all of Dell’s willpower not to abandon all good senses and just throw himself into Soldier’s arms. He couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to. If he did, he knew he would have to forgive Soldier then, and that was just something he could absolutely not do right now.
His hand went to his face and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He took a deep, steeling breath.
“Do yer have any idea how worried I was?” he heard himself ask. “Any idea?”
Soldier hunched his shoulder, looking nothing short of a scolded child. Good, he thinks, yet his heart ached.
“I’ve been turnin’ every goddamn stone this side of this county and back. I even went into the neighboring ones.” All the strain of these efforts aside, most likely all of Bee Cave now knew of the weird short man looking for a runaway veteran and served as a rather comedic topic of conversation in every bar and gathering for the next few years to come.
“Figured y’all went back to the base. Wouldn’t have blamed ye. To be fairly honest, Sal, I had expected yer to grow tired of this life much sooner n’ head back to the base. But yer weren’t even there, were you. I put up Missing Person’s posters all over town. I … I couldn’t even go to the police n’ ask ‘em for help, I dun’ even have a doggone picture of you.” he laughed, suddenly remembering the ridiculousness of the situation. “I even called yer old roommate. That magician guy. Then I called RED Demo, jus’ … jus’ to make sure you hadn’t run off to either one of ‘em. I … I had to subscribe ta three separate newspapers jis’ in case someone reported on yer out there. Jis’ … any clue …”
“You shouldn’t have.” Soldier retorted.
Anger flared up within him. It shot up his neck and into his head and tuned out all rational thinking. He shouldn’t have? He cannot restrain himself anymore, not after that. One, two, three steps and he is facing Soldier, his hands curling into the front of his shirt and he shoves him into the wall.
“Where?!” he grits out. “Where the fuck have you been?!”
When Soldier doesn’t answer quickly enough, surprised to be suddenly pinned between the wall and Dell’s body, the Texan gives him a shake. “I’ve done nothin’ but search for ya ass for the last four weeks! Every time people knocked on mah dagnabbin’ door, I thought it was YOU! Every time the phone rang, I thought it was the cops, tellin’ me they found yer body in some ditch! I haven’t SLEPT properly fer nearly a month!” he emphasizes every ending word with another jerk of his hands, Soldier’s helmet clanking hollowly against the wall. “I jis’ got ta terms with the fact I probably ain’t ever gonna see yer again, or speak to yer ever again and … and …”
“I was in the barn.”
Adrenaline was pounding like a drum in his ear, he almost thought he was just hearing things. It almost sounded like Soldier had just told him …
“Come again?”
“I was in the barn,” Soldier repeated. “With the horse.”
Dell’s face went slack with bewilderment. When he failed to speak, Soldier filled in the baffled silence: “Set up camp behind that wall of hay bales. I went fishing in the river behind your house. ”
There was just no way. Dell just could not accept the fact that Soldier had been there, the whole time, just under his nose, while he went and combed through half of Texas, trying to find him. Even more upsetting was, Dell had been in the barn almost daily, watering the worse, combing its fur, checking its leg, feeding it. And not once had he paid any attention. But not once had Soldier made any effort at revealing himself to him, either. And he didn’t know which was infuriating him most.
He unclenches his fist and instead, he lets his anger loose by shoving the man, roughly, into the wall.
“Fer god’s sake, Soldier, I’ve – I’ve been lookin’ for you, EVERYWHERE!!”
They both stare at each other, and then shock settled into Dell’s bones at the familiarity of those words. Now coming out of the Engineer’s mouth, instead of the Soldier: I’ve been looking for you, everywhere.
Breathing became near impossible all of the sudden. He stood there and tried evening every intake of air, shaking his head against the assault of dizziness. “I went nearly crazy with worry. I thought yer went n’ got shot, or starved out there or fell down some dagnabbin’ ravine.” he muttered, stunned. “And … and y’all were right there, the whole time. The whole, doggone time …”
“I’m sorry, Engie.”
It’s too much. The tears come before Dell can stop them, pouring from his eyes down his cheeks and he wipes frantically at his face to try and catch them. There simply was no more power left inside him to fight his emotions from spilling over.
He steps away from him, couldn’t bear being close to him, lest he’d do something very stupid. Punch him, maybe. Kiss him, perhaps.
All this. All this because of his stupid helmet…
When he finally manages to compose himself again, his voice is thick and wet and he has to sniffle to clear his airways to speak properly.
“Is … is this what it was like?” he asks him, sounding utterly defeated.
“What was what like?” Soldier cocked his head.
“When I left the base. After the robot war.” Dell pushed the heel of his hand into his eyes. Maybe, he realized numbly, he deserved to feel this. To experience this misery, the same one the Soldier must’ve felt like when he went out there, in the world, looking for the tinkerer, with no idea where to look or who to ask, the constant worry of your friend, potentially abducted or incarcerated or something even worse, sitting in your neck.
Maybe I do deserve this, he thinks.
Once his face is acceptably dry again, he glances up at the Commando. He couldn’t see his expression under that helmet. Yet Dell knew the man was sad.
He hadn’t meant to make the man sad. Fuck. Once again, Dell wishes he had just followed the lizard-part of his brain and went with what he wanted to do so bad – close his arms around him and hold him. Forgive him. Kiss him. Maybe punch him too, but mostly just kiss him and then never let him go, ever again.
Instead, Dell had probably done the worst thing he would have done. Lost him. Got him back – and now pushed him away again. I really am the worst friend …
Dell turned and headed for the door, hoping to escape this situation before he started bawling all over again, when Soldier finally spoke.
“It … it was worse than this.”
Hearing the man’s strong, tough voice turned so thin, cracking slightly, felt like a knife stabbing into Dell’s heart. “Because I knew … when I knock on this door,” his shoulder slumped. “You’d be there.”
Dell turned away from the door and back towards the man across from him. His eyes landed on his helmet, there, where he now knew were his eyes.
He’d been gutted before, surely. This felt similar. His feet whisper over the floor as he turns around, and moves towards the man, at first soft, careful steps. Then quicker steps.
Until he ran.
He doesn’t know if he wraps his arms around him first or if Soldier does, but suddenly he’s here, his chest pressing into his, arms holding the Texan so tightly his ribs groaned in protest and he didn’t care at all. His eyes pressed into the man’s neck, his mind going mushy as he feels the warmth of Soldier’s skin on his face and takes in his scent, unmistakably Soldier. The familiar scent of his skin, salt, leather, gunpowder. He feels Soldier’s nose and the lid of his helmet digging into the side of his head, hears Soldier’s shaky breaths. His entire bulk is shaking against him, fingers clinging desperately to Dell’s cardigan and the shirt below, like he was afraid that if he let go again, Dell would disappear. It’s more than enough to turn on the faucets again.
“I promise yer, Sal! I promise I’ll never leave yer again. Jus’ … jus’ dun’ ever run away from me again, ya hear me? I dun’ think I could take it.” Dell sobbed softly into his neck. “I wouldn’t know what ta do with mahself if yer got yerself killed out there.”
Soldier’s hold on him tightens even more and he just lets him cry into his shirt. All the tension and fear and sorrow comes flowing out of Dell’s eyes until there were no more tears left and Soldier’s shoulder was thoroughly soaked, but the military man doesn’t let go of him even then. Dell loses count of how long they stand there and just hold onto one another, but gradually, they relax into the other’s body. Soldier rests his chin on top of his head and Dell listens to the strong thumping of Soldier’s heart.
“Why didn’t ya come back sooner?” he murmurs into his cotton shirt. So much heartache could have been prevented. Soldier pondered that question, perhaps not quite sure himself. Maybe now was the time to address the elephant in the room:
“Sal, what happened in the barn …”
Soldier tenses again, and Dell realized he might be on a proper track here. He still remembers that awful expression of fright on his face.
“Were ya scared?”
He nods, after a while. Dell unglues himself from Soldier and takes a gentle hold of his upper arms.
“Yer shouldn’t have been. It’s jis’ me.”
Soldier averts his eyes at that. And then it hits Dell like a bag of bricks.
It’s me.
“It’s me, ain’t it?”
Soldier scowled, trying his hardest to bring back that hard exterior. “I have CRAPPED scarier things than you –!“
“Now y’all stop it with the tough-guy act, will yer?” he gives Soldier a clap on the shoulder. He doesn’t know what about the whole ordeal had the man so rattled. He wasn’t some defaced monster underneath that helmet, quite the opposite. Or perhaps Soldier, that unyielding monolith of patriotism and lethality, defying death and sense and sometimes even gravity, was scared that Dell found out that he was, in the end, just a man like any other. He doesn’t know. Likely never find out, either.
Dell slips his arms beneath Soldiers again to encircle his body, buries his face back into Soldier’s chest, rubbing soothing circles into his lower back.
“Yer should’ve known better, Sal. Really.”
He hears the thumping of Soldier’s heart pick up slightly and it’s his encouragement to continue: “I dunno what yer thought I’d do, or say, or think of yer after what happened– but it definitely wouldn’t have been any less. Yer still my friend. My best friend. My Soldier-boy.” Dell smiles then, after what felt like an eternity. He’d feared he forgot how to do it. “I’d still set up dispensers for ya out in battle. Or let ya help me at mah workshop. Would still have ya Spy-check round my entries, too. I’d still take yer downtown with me n’ git into lil disputes at the grocery store with ya. I’d still tag along with yer and yer old-people fanclub. I’d still let ya fish in that there river. I’d still have yer harass the mailman, if that’s what made yer happy.”
Dell pulled him close once more, holding him as tightly as he could. “This here house would’a still been your home.”
He hears Soldier’s sharp, almost startled intake of air above him. Feels him hold it. Feels him exhale, slowly in a soft, maybe even forlorn sigh.
Then, suddenly, he is grasped by his shoulders, firmly, and Soldier takes a step away from him until they are face to face again. Dell feels the tenseness in his muscles, hears the unevenness of his breathing. They look at one another in apprehensive expectations.
And then Soldier lifts his hands from him and wraps them around the heavy iron helmet. He lets it drop to the floor with a loud, hollow Clang!
And there he was. Stoicism seemed his default expression as even now, he glanced down at him with the stony, almost angry expression of a true Soldier, facing his enemy.
But the gentleness in his eyes betrays the battle-hardened front he put up at all times.
Thick dark brows had knitted together in concentration, seated low over his eyes, an expression of constant sternness. Even now, regarding the smaller man. But Dell knew him. Knew the signs of anxiety in Soldier without ever having seen his face before until just recently. That squared jaw, tense shoulders, drawing in shallow breaths, almost not breathing at all.
It almost reminded him of the terrified way his face had twisted when his helmet had dropped for the first time, and it threatened to split Dell’s heart in half. But much more so did the notion that Soldier trusted him, trusted him so much he defied his anxiety and put down his guard, his most precious item of defense and really, really let the shorter man see.
Dell takes him in in silent awe. It still felt so unreal, and he stretched out his hand, almost as if to assure himself it was very much real, only to find the Soldier’s shoulder drawing in with apprehension, his eyes following his hand, as if ready to flee again, should its intention be to inflict harm on him. Dell paused, hand hovering midair, searching the other’s face for that telltale sign of distress. But it doesn’t come.
“Look at me.”
Soldier unglues his eyes from his hand and focuses down onto his own. Carefully, very carefully, Dell lets his knuckles stroke along the man’s temple, his cheekbone. When Soldier makes no sound of protest, he does it again. The Commando seemed to piece it together then – the feared pain never arrived. In the end, Dell lifted both his hands, gently petting and cupping the other’s face, tracing his gruff and angular and thoroughly male shapes, running his fingers along the short trimmed hair on his temple and the coarser structure of his brows.
“Yer beautiful.”
Soldier was not conventionally handsome, nor would he fall under the general consensus of beauty, as far as Engineer could tell – but to him, he simply was. All the tough, angular shapes of his frame aside, the way he turned Dell’s world-views around into such different, sometimes absurd directions no other man, or woman, could. The way he made him smile, or angered him, or just made him feel like he was both the smartest and most inexperienced man on this planet. The way Soldier made him feel like the world would stop turning, should Dell cease to exist– all these beautiful features about him now simply had a face.
If he had to answer the conundrum of philosophical questions of beauty, then he would do so by pointing at the man before him.
Soldier swallowed, his pretty blue hues looking into his green ones. Suddenly, he springs forward and encases his face in both his large hands, capturing his lips with his and Dell rewards him with an eager response, no hesitation at all. They drew one another in, deeply, with the sort of desperation two separated lovers expressed upon reuniting. When Dell opens his eyes and finds himself now face to face with Soldier’s gentle blues looking back at him, he knows it’s over for him.
The cardigan slips from his shoulders. The cool air nips at his exposed shoulders, but with Soldier’s body practically wrapped over him, the only thing he feels is exhilarating heat, spreading like wildfire in his veins. Soldier grunts against his lips, such a familiar sound, so familiarly gruff and slightly frustrated, pawing impatiently at Dell’s shirt, tugging at it. He mirrors him, pulling the shirt from beneath his belt and driving his hands up his solid front.
He hears the taller man gasp and Dell realizes why. “Ah, S-Sorry,” he chuckles, withdrawing his hand again and rubbing his cold knuckles. “Git’s pretty darn cold out there at night.” But that doesn’t seem to concern the military man all that much, his lips already back to his, teeth catching the tinkerer’s lips, nibbling slightly, gentled with Dell’s own, open-mouthed kisses that melt his brain and crave him all the more.
He knows the small, single bed in Soldier’s room would not comfortably accommodate them both, surely even breaking if they tried. He knows it’s probably sacrilegious, but …
Curling his fingers in the front of Soldier’s shirt, he began pulling him along, Out of the man’s domicile and into the hallway, and at first Soldier seems confused, halting, until Dell gives him another, more urgent tug. Dell kicks the door to his parent’s former bedroom open. Shuffles a bit awkwardly along the rug and his slippers – and let’s himself drop onto the mattress, Soldier in tow. He’s buried beneath his bulk, broad, heavy.
Soldier gives a small startled noise somewhere in the back of his throat, lifting his face from his to glance around him.
“This is not my domicile.” He states.
“Nope.” Dell grins softly, busing himself with tugging Soldier’s shirt up to his armpits. It’s cute, watching the man’s eyes scan the area with that same streak of apprehension in them, before they settled on him again.
“This is your parent’s room?”
“It is. Well, was.” He watched with satisfaction how Soldier’s muscles contracted under his hands as he caressed up his exposed chest, coarse hair rubbing against his palms. It would come to better use with Dell and Soldier than the marriage bed ever did with Fred and Donna Conagher, he mused.
“I wasn’t given permission to enter.”
Dell laughed softly. It’s a sound he hasn’t heard coming out of him since Soldier left. “Ain’t that a bummer.” He drawled. “S’ppose that means I’mma have ta go ta bed t’night without sum’ strong, handsome man at my side.”
Soldier blinked. Begins lifting himself and away from him. “Is this an order to leave-?”
But Dell grabs him so quickly, drawing him back onto the mattress with a shared grunt, their faces nearly crash into one another.
“Y’all ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Dell whispers against his lips.
“But you just –“
“Sal,” Dell cups his broad jaw in his hands. “Stay.”
He nods. Dell gently strokes along his temples again, and were the Soldier a cat, he’d surely purr.
“That there shirt of yer ain’t gonna stay, though,” Dell gave the white cotton shirt gathered beneath Soldier’s arms another indicating tug.
“Is that an order?” he says, eyes narrowed, and making no move to remove it.
“Yer want me to employ mah dirty war tactics on yer again, son?” Dell playfully let his fingers run along up the Soldier’s inner thigh up to his fly and the man seemed to cringe slightly at the memory of that, eliciting another soft chuckle from the Texan beneath him.
“If you want another ass-whooping, you are heading that way VERY quickly.”
“Nah,” Dell kisses along Soldier’s neck sloppily, finding the skin hot there, and in the dimmed light, he could swear it was blushing under his ministrations. “But I sure do want yer.”
“What do you want me for?”
He forgot how oblivious the Soldier was to most dirty talking. With an amused little smirk, he switched sides and smooched the other side of Soldier’s neck, inhaling the scent of his aftershave.
“Fer this.” he rumbled against his skin. “Fer this,” Dell runs his fingers along the man’s furred chest, down his stomach, savoring the way the man’s muscles constrict and ripple beneath his skin when he touched him. He’s ticklish, he realizes. Teasingly traces a protruding vein on his lower abdomen. “And this.”
His hand slips beneath the Soldier’s belt. Soldier tenses with surprise as a warm hand cupped him through his underwear, a small gasp tumbling from his lips. An expression of rapt attention and concentration on his face as he lets the tinkerer palm and paw at him gently.
Dell watches his face, finally having the opportunity to do so. Watches him swallow again, his chest heaving a little deeper. Dell runs his fingers into the Soldier’s hair, buzzcut bristling pleasantly against his hands. Soldier gasped again, lower this time, eyes shot wide open. For a moment Dell feared he was pushing his luck too far tonight – until he felt the Soldier’s cock, twitching inside his palm. Eagerly. Keening, even. He does it again, carefully this time, letting the short hair bristle against his hand and eliciting the same reaction.
Who would have guessed – the fearsome Soldier’s erogenous zone was on his scalp.
“Engie,” he rumbles. Dell hesitates, wondering if that was his warning – or his encouragement.
“If yer want me ta stop-“
“You will stop when you are DEAD, maggot!” Soldier growled, and before Dell can retort, his mouth is captured with a series of passionate kisses that made Dell’s brain go mush. Soldier’s tongue pushes against his lips, and when he opens his mouth to him, they both moan out in equal satisfaction, chasing each other playfully.
He’s so captivated, he doesn’t notice Soldier doing the same to his shirt what Dell had attempted to do to Soldier, strong hands fumbling with his tank top, and Dell slips his hand out of Soldier’s pants and lifts them, letting Soldier toss the useless garment aside, drowning content murmurs with more kisses as their skin finally met and touched, burning each other up. He missed having him like this. Missed feeling him like this.
So much he could not bear being constricted from fully feeling one another by these clothes in their ways and Dell reaches for Soldier’s belt, undoing the buckle and slipping it from its loops, while Soldier’s hands awkwardly tried to push Dell’s cotton pants down his hips. Soldier’s brows furrow again in frustrations when his plans don’t come to fruition, thanks to that cord tied tightly around Engie’s hips. Dell chuckles and undoes it with an equally quick tug of his fingers. They tug and push at each other’s pants, Dell managing to push Soldier’s slacks off of his knees, leaving him in his whitey tighteys. Soldier doesn’t even give him that discretion, pulling both pants and underwear off of him in one go. The cool air hits Dell’s lower half and his freed half-erection, but before the trembling could set in, his body is covered in Soldier’s again, burying him beneath him in a wall of heat and muscles and desire. Soldier swallows the gasp that tumbled from his lips as their hips pressed into one another. The military man pushes against him. Dell does the same. Soldier does it once more, as if to answer him, and this time Dell meets him there and they began rutting against and into one another in a languish rhythm. The friction was sharp and sweet and made his legs shudder with each drag.
Soldier curses as Dell slipped his hand beneath the band of Soldier’s underwear, giving his rapidly hardening member gentle, loving tugs, velvety soft and sturdy and just as handsome as he remembered him to be. When he has him freed from his cotton prison and lets their members press against one another, it feels like welcoming back an old friend.
They picked up the previous pace. Rocking their hips against one another, into the narrow space their bodies formed as they held onto each other tightly, mouths sealed in deep, feverish kisses.
“I missed yer,” Dell mumbled when their lips parted. “So darn much,” another kiss. “It almost,” another kiss. “Gosh-damn killed me.”
“Engie,” Soldier purred against his ear, replaced by a sharp gasp when they move in a particularly nice fashion. Perhaps it had been an attempt at an apology, but Dell wraps his arms around his shoulders and holds him.
“Dell.” He whispers back.
“Dell…” Soldier repeated the name in a moan when Dell presses the heels of his feet into his lower back and encourage him to move faster, which he did. Soon the sounds of their wet kisses was coupled with the creaking of the bedsprings with each thrust against one another and the gasps and grunts and groans that fall from their mouths. He leans into the feeling of Soldier’s hands running down his body, tracing nicks and bumps and scars, tracing the muscles in his arms and hands and in his lower back and thighs. He’d never been so thoroughly explored by anyone but the military man before. The women Dell had engaged in before rarely touched the unevenness of his skin, likely because it creeped them out, or, even worse, disgusted them.
Not Soldier.
He touched each one like it was a batch of honor, a mark of courage. Even the ugly ones, the burn marks and bullet holes, are traced and caressed and mapped out with precision and with admiration. Even his arm, the one with the missing hand, was traced and caressed and then, strong fingers held onto his robotic ones, not deterred by the cool metal whatsoever. Dell’s chest swells with fresh emotions that threaten to shoot tears back into his eyes, so he busied himself with reaching down between them, wrapping his trembling fingers around their pulsing members, creating an even tighter channel for the two of them to push into. Precum made the whole ordeal even more slippery, even more sensitive. They groaned in union at the new feeling, fresh shudders of pleasure raking through their bodies. He lets his guard down and suddenly Soldier is biting into Dell’s neck, canines digging into his pulse and his shoulder and oh boy, he’d look like chew toy by next morning, he just knew it, and it did nothing but make him that much more turned on. Soldier’s teeth grazed the scar that the Spy left there, near his jugular. Even that sour memory couldn’t disturb the moment for the tinkerer when he tightens his fist around them and made the Soldier growl, so deeply and unequivocally male and savage it turned his bones to jelly - and suddenly looking up at the ceiling wouldn’t do anymore.
Dell takes a firm hold of the Soldier’s glutes, and with a startled yelp, Soldier is flipped and pushed into the sheets, his back buried in the duvet and Engie seated upright on his lap. They stare at one another, one surprised at the change in position and the other with intent. Dell swallows dryly at what he sees beneath him. Soldier’s eyes are blown, the black almost eating up the blue ring around it, the silver moonlight shining in through the windows not hiding the flush that sits on Soldier’s cheeks and the bridge of his nose and his neck. He’s winded, sweat glistening on his temples and pooling on his chest, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Dell realized he most likely looked the same, and Soldier’s eyes hungrily roamed his face, his body, down to their members pressing against one another still, in a manner that made Dell shudder again. He rolls his hips and watching Soldier’s brows knit in deep concentration made Dell’s heart flutter. He does it again, and again, and again as their rhythm finally picks up again, harder, faster. That pull in his lower abdomen, the rush in his ears - He’s close, he knows it, but he cannot let go just yet.
One deft hand returning to their cocks, wrapping his fingers around both of them, he leaned his weight on his other arm, diving down to kiss the Soldier deeply, and the military man complies with gusto, a strong hand grasping at his hips and drawing him in and pushing back, following their quickening rhythm and his other curling around Dell’s skull, frustrated at the lack of hair there to cling to. His strong hips buck up and into him, accentuated with pleased groans and sighs.
“What’s your name?” Dell whispers to him.
Soldier opens his eyes. “Hah, hah – w-what?”
“Your name,” Dell suckles on the skin beneath his lover’s ear, leaving a mark there. “I wanna say it when I cum.” His thumb rolls over their sensitive tips and both writhe against each other in shared elation.
“Nngh!” Soldier throws his head back into the sheets, panting. “Jane.” He says. “I-It’s Jane.”
Jane.
In their shared moment, there’s no confusion over the fact that it’s not a male name. Dell simply doesn’t care. To him, it’s perfect.
He begins moving his hand up and down to the rhythm of their thrusts, quick and tight tugs up and down, and it is enough for the military man to go into end-spurt, Dell’s name tumbling out of his chest, his eyes shutting tightly, and suddenly he goes taut as a bowstring and a strained groan erupted from his lungs, head pushed back into the mattress, hands holding onto him desperately as pleasure washes over him, snapping his hips up and into him again and again, shooting hotly and fiercely into and around Dell’s strong fingers, coating their bellies, and Dell follows after him just a few strokes later. He groans into Soldier’s neck, Jane, Jane, like he promised he would, while the world around him drowned in a pulsing, shuddering white haze.
When he comes around, he is breathless and shaking slightly from the cool air hitting his sweat-covered body. Glancing to his side, he finds the Soldier out like a light. As usual, Dell thinks, and laughs gently. Rather this than Soldier storming off again. Anything but Soldier storming off, ever again...
For a while, Dell indulges in the feeling of letting the back of his knuckles trace Soldier’s features, along a patch of bristles he forgot to shave, the form of his shredded ear, the bridge of his nose, noticeably broken countless times, listening to his gruff snores.
Once his legs stopped shaking, he picks up a warm cloth from the bathroom and cleans himself up, then the prone Soldier, before hoisting the larger man up and under the covers. Dell crawls under the duvet. A strong arm instantly reaches out for him, grabs him by his shoulder and draws him closer.
“Mrrh. Engie?”
“Yeah?”
Soldier slides open one eye, somewhere far away between consciousness and dreamland. “What base is this?”
It takes Dell all his remaining power not to bust out laughing. He shifts to his side until he’s face to face with the Commando.
“We’re in Texas, hoss.”
“Hrrm,” Soldier murmurs. “Those RED maggots attacked Gullywash again?”
“They sure did.”
Soldier’s eyes slid close. He takes in a deep inhale and exhale and settles deeper into the sheets. “We’ll make them pay for that. Tomorrow.”
Dell lets his fingers run along Soldier’s cropped hair. “We will, sweetheart.”
When he opens his eyes, the silver moonshine is replaced by the soft orange hues of the morning sun. Dell stretches and glances at the empty spot next to him. Dell startles awake and sits up. There is no trace of the other man. For a heart-wrenching moment, Dell fears it had just been a dream. A desperate last attempt in his mind to imagine his Soldier, knocking on his door, returning home.
When Dell climbs down the stairs, there is no sign of him either. Not even his boots.
The tightness in his throat threatened to strangle him for good –
Splash!
Dell startles so bad he stumbles into a chair and nearly trips. An angered hiss and the sound of nails scurrying along the wooden floor followed and Dell catches the sight of a striped tail hurrying up the stairs. Dell glances outside, and finds the yard empty. Great. Now he was hearing things…
"OORAH!!"
When Dell wheels around and glances out the kitchen window, he sees him. Butt-naked, aside from the helmet, the river rushing against the pit of his knees as he stood completely still, hands raised. Dell watches in awe as the man suddenly lunges forward. Momentarily, Soldier vanishes in an explosion of water, slipping under the surface. He emerges with a triumphant roar, holding aloft a fat, angrily thrashing trout.
“Gotcha! – Ouch!” The trout smacked the Soldier’s jaw with its large fin, discombobulating the man, and the slippery animal wiggled from Soldier’s grasp. There’s a short struggle that ended with the fish landing back in the water with a splash, and Soldier scowling dejectedly at the rushing current.
“Damnit!” he barks.
“Ya’ll git him next time.”
Soldier turns, his helmet swaying, water dripping from the heavy lid and his chin. When he spots Dell, he gives a salute. “Sir! Yessir!” He vanishes momentarily beneath the windowsill, before poking his head up again, a fat trout in every hand. “I may not have caught their commander – but I DID decimate his platoon! Cowards they were, hiding underneath ROCKS and DRIFTWOOD!”
Dell grinned. Didn’t matter that his poor freezer would be stuffed to the brim again.
“Well, bring these there cravens inside – gonna make us some proper breakfast.”
Dell never had trout for breakfast. But like everything with Soldier, Dell experienced a few first-timers. They eat in placid silence. Share a cup of coffee in placid silence at the windowsill, watching the horses and cows being shooed out of their stables and into the yellow pastures.
“When I woke up today, I sure did think it was jis’ sum dream.” Dell murmured into the quietness. “Dreamt often y’all came back, actually.”
“Dreams are a social construct invented for little girls,” Soldier harrumphed. “They are nothing for men like us.”
“Maybe. But… kinda was the only thing keepin’ hope up fer me.” Dell shrugged. Maybe that made him a little girl, after all. Considering the way he had blubbered into Soldier’s shirt the night prior… He chuckled nervously. He could feel Soldier glancing down at him.
“Are you still mad at me?”
Dell scoffed. “Yer kiddin’? Half of Bee Cave and the surroundin’ counties now think I’m sum lunatic runnin’ after some make-believe war veteran. I bet’cha sum sop is laughin’ with his buddies bout me as we speak.” He sipped on his coffee. “Hell, your elderly fanclub nearly kicked in mah darn door when I told ‘em y’all were gone. Even had that old shrew from the supermarket try n’ wed me to her niece, when she realized yer were outta the picture.”
Like he would ever trade this here for anything or anyone else.
“I’mma have to assume Ol’ Joel likely thinks I’ve gone cuckoo as well.”
Dell watches a young, black bull frolicking over the pastures.
“So yer bet I’m still mad.”
The man next to him seemed to deflate slightly under those words, worrying his lower lip with his teeth. Dell puts his cup down on the windowsill. “But,” he said, and that draws Soldier’s attention back towards him with new hope. “Yer safe, and alive. And that what matters most ta me.”
Soldier chuffed smugly. “Do you believe I am made of CREAM and SPRINKLES, Private Twinkletoes? It takes MORE than a few lousy days sleeping in horse-crap and eating fish!”
“So…what made yer knock on mah door yesterday, then?” Why not sooner? Why not later?
Soldier’s smirk fell so quickly Dell knew he had hit something inside Soldier’s convoluted mind that made the military man pause and reconsider his actions. Dell had decided, the moment they had wrapped each other up in their arms and he had cried into his chest like a baby that whatever Soldier’s reasons were, he would understand it and accept it – even if it hurt.
But what Soldier said then was something Dell had absolutely not expected.
“I, uh …” Soldier squared his shoulders and huffed, the helmet slipping further down over his face as if to hide it in shame. Suddenly his voice was very quiet. “I missed you.”
When no reaction comes, Soldier lifts his head again, trying to understand if he said something wrong or hurtful to the Engineer – until he feels Dell’s warm, strong hand cupping his jaw, tenderly stroking along the side of his face. He’s drawn into another hug, the shorter man’s hands wrapping around him, face buried into his shoulder. Soldier doesn’t know if men are supposed to hug like this, but what he does know is that it feels very, very nice. Feeling warmth seep under his skin and his body relax and lean into it, while his insides go all crazy. Kind of like when he’s smacked by Pyro’s neon annihilator. But nicer. So, it couldn’t be that wrong, right? Years of battle, war and pain, Dell’s gentle touches left the deepest imprints on Soldier’s mind and soul.
“Yer see that there bull over yonder?”
Soldier’s gaze follows Dell’s finger, pointing out the window and towards the black bull out on its compound, having the zoomies.
“Affirmative.”
Dell gave his hip a playful nudge with his own. “I’mma teach yer how to rodeo today.”
Chapter 18: Riding
Chapter Text
The lights are out and the Engineer is seated on his knees, between Soldier’s spread legs. They are shaking slightly, sometimes flexing under Dell’s gentle ministrations on the sores on his inner thighs.
Maybe he’d spurred the Soldier on a tad bit too much. Or maybe Soldier had been a bit too enthusiastic about the whole ordeal.
When Dell asked the farmer to lend him the young, energetic bull for some rodeo lessons, the old man looked thoroughly confused, but he sure enough understood the amount of money Dell offered him. They had led the animal back onto the vacant pasture that once served the Conagher farm as its breeding ground for the horses.
“Yer ready ta earn yer spurs today, Soldier-boy?”
“Affirmative!” Soldier seemed less uncomfortable at the idea or mounting this thing than any horse, funnily enough.
“ATTEEEEENTION!” Soldier called, saluting. “Son, let me tell you something. I am not easily impressed – AND YET! I have seen what your kind is capable off! The strength! The mettle! The unbroken spirit only a true American bovine has! I have never seen an animal beat the CRAP out of a man so thoroughly!!” Soldier chuckled manically to himself at the memory. “Today, YOUR spirit will be tested! BY ME!”
“Moo?” The bull blinked, looking confused.
“Yer heard ‘em.”
Soldier turned to the source of the Texan drawl – and his jaw nearly hit the floor at what he saw. Sauntering close with one hand around the reigns and one pushed into his hip, with his cowboy hat slightly tipped forwards, Dell sat atop Private, steering the horse closer towards Soldier and the bull. With a gentle nudge into his side, the horse came to a huffing standstill.
“Howdy, pardner.” He tipped his hat.
“W-What is the meaning of THIS?!” Soldier looked so utterly flustered, it made Dell laugh.
“Well, ain’t no true rodeo without a wrangler.” He doubted the situation would escalate to the point where Dell needed to hunt this particular bull and tie him down – but safety came first, after all.
“Y-YOU THINK-!” Soldier’s voice jumped up an octave and he had to fiercely clear his voice to bring it down to his usual inflection. “You THINK I need some llama-riding babysitter from the local HIPPIE FUNFAIR?”
Private chuffed. Llama? He?
“Yer see that there?” Dell patted the generous rope tied to his belt. “Yer gon’ be real grateful fer that once that there bull goes rogue n’ charges at ya.”
“Not before I charge at him FIRST!” Soldier countered. The bull looked utterly taken aback by that statement.
“Shucks! Guess I’mma have ta hogtie you down then. Ain’t no rowdy Soldier-boy allowed on my here turf.”
Soldier moved his mouth, with no proper word or sound coming out. Eventually, he simply snapped his mouth shut and averted his eyes – but Dell could see the fierce flush forming on Soldier’s neck.
Well, butter by butt and call me a biscuit, he thinks ...
Dell slipped off the horse and begins explaining Soldier the basics. How to hold the rope. How to stay on top as long as possible. What to do and what not to do when he’s flung off.
“Key here is ta balance yerself on his back with one single hand and the strength in yer legs.” And that may be easier said than done. Strength the Soldier had, yet one also needed a good amount of flexibility and mobility. The young bull’s horns were not grown out quite yet, still just two awkward stumps growing from his head, but Dell knew that they were still quite deadly. If the bull bucked its head upwards and headbutted Soldier, there was not much Dell could do for him in that moment. If, even worse, Soldier’s boots caught in the bucking strap, like that kid at the rodeo show, and he is dragged along, there was not much Dell could do for him in that moment. He’d just have to teach Soldier to properly unbuckle himself if things got too rowdy and pray to every benevolent god out there that he’d not accidentally get trampled.
Luckily the animal was either too good-willed, or too stupid, to realize what the two men’s intention were with him today. Dell secured a rope around the animal’s upper body, leaving enough space to easily fit a hand beneath it, deciding to forego the bucking strap for now. Gotta start easy, give him a feel for riding first. Too bad Soldier would not warm up to the idea of horses – but somehow, it was just on brand for the Commando, having his first proper ride on the back of the more dangerous animal of the two.
“Well, he’s all ready for ya.” Dell said. “Jus’ remember what I told ya! Once up, squeeze yer knees right in there. He’s a big boy, y’all ain’t gonna hurt him. N’ fer the love’a god, watch ‘em horns, alright?”
“These two sorry excuses?” Soldier knocked his knuckle against one of the bull’s small nobs. “Do you call those WEAPONS, son? Those are not weapons! That’s a pile of NONSENSE!”
The bull almost looked offended upon that comment.
“Boy, yer gon’ regret that once them’s pile’a nonsense knock yer teeth out.” Dell warned.
“PAH! This green-beak is nothing! I have conquered larger hills than him!” Soldier scoffed. “Less TALK, more RIDING, I say! Give me a lift!”
Dell had warned him about cockiness, and still, like most young cowboys, Soldier approached the ordeal with almost too much confidence. “Well, time ta giddy-up then!” Dell interlocked his fingers and hoisted the Commando up.
“Up I go!” Soldier did not hesitate at all, jumping up and planting himself firmly atop the bull. That seemed to rattle the gentle giant. It looked up, a startled expression in his dark eyes. It glanced left and right, ears flicking.
“Moo?”
“If you know what’s GOOD for you, you will STAY STILL!”
The bull have a quick jerk with its shoulders and Soldier, not ready at all for any signs of disobedience, was promptly tossed off. The man yelped and landed with a thud in the dirt.
Dell laughed. “Nice ride, cowboy.”
Soldier growled. “He caught me by surprise!” quickly jumping back onto his feet, Soldier took a hold of the strap again and swung himself up onto the bull once more. “Now!” he announced. “There will be no more bucking off unless I GIVE THE ORDER!”
The bull looked none too pleased by that and began fussing again, not properly bucking yet, but jerky movements that made an attempt at shaking the man above him off. This time Soldier was prepared and held on tighter. “That’s the ticket, Sal!” Dell called. “Now, try it with jus’ one hand.”
Soldier slowly, carefully, lifts his left hand off the reigns and lets it hover midair. And for a moment, it seemed like he may be in for his first proper ride -
And then, with a hearty buck of his hind legs, the Soldier went flying again, sputtering and spitting dust.
“Maggot!”
Dell knew he shouldn’t be laughing, but he still did, holding his hand over his mouth. Soldier tossed him an accusatory glance. “You will cease that giggling right now!”
“Sorry, sorry.” Dell sniggered. “Yer doin’ good, hoss! Jus’ keep tryin’.”
But instead of doing that, Soldier tried his usual method – he planted himself in front of the bull, hand raised, and finger angrily poking into the bull’s moist snout. “Listen to me now, Besty!” Poke!
“You WILL listen to my command!” Poke! “Or I will skewer you!” Poke! “Roast you!” Poke! “Cover you in barbeque-sauce!” Poke! “And then I will EAT YOU RIGHT UP, IS THAT UNDERSTOOD?!”
Anger flared in the bull’s eyes. Uh oh!
“Sal.” Dell said, feeling the rising tension in the air. Even Private noticed it, giving a nervous whinny and tip-toeing out of the way. “Yer better dun’ go n’ provoke him.”
“Why?” Soldier scowled at the bull. “Aw, am I hurting his flimsy lady-feelings? Am I being too VIOLENT for the LIKES OF YOU?!” Poke!
“Moo!”
PANG!
The bull’s head crashed into Soldier’s face.
All easy-going laughter and fun drained from Dell the moment the Soldier keeled over a third time. Limbless, Soldier collapsed in a heap of dust and sand onto the floor below, prone, unmoving – and not jumping up right away with some stoic one-liner.
“Oh crap,” he hissed, scrambled off the saddle and came jogging closer. “Sal?”
A small current of blood was flowing from Soldier’s nose. Dell shoved his hands beneath Soldier’s back and made him sit up. His head lolled forward. Jesus, he hoped he didn’t have a darn concussion. “Sal, ya hear me?”
Soldier coughed, spitting. A loose molar, covered in blood, landed in the sand. Hell!
“Sal, can ya move your jaw?” Dell began prodding and manipulating the other’s lower face, watching for any signs of distress and pain. Instead, Soldier murmured something under his breath, quietly and unintelligently.
“Whussat?” Dell leaned in closer.
All of the sudden, like a marionette pulled by its strings, life returned to the Soldier and he sprang from Dell’s arms. His voice boomed over the Conagher farm.
“YOU ARE A MAGGOT HATCHED FROM A MUTANT MAGGOT EGG!!”
Soldier lurched forward, hands outstretched. Like a helmeted panther, he pounced the surprised bovine. “C’mere, PUMPKIN!”
“MOO?!” The bull’s eyes widened in shock. Dell’s eyes widened in shock. He jumped up in a panic as Soldier tackled the animal into the dust.
There was a frenzied kerfuffle, with Soldier yelling, Dell yelling, and the bull mooing, all equally panicked. The bovine made an attempt at fleeing, until Soldier wrapped his arms around him, mounted him and cackled manically. “Where do you think YOU’RE going, Ferdinand?!”
“DAGNABBIT! Soldier, leave the bull alone!!”
“NEVER! This horned maggot wrote the check, now I’m carrying his ass to the BANK!” and Soldier’s hands took hold of the poor animals skull. “NECK SNAP!”
“NO, WAIT!”
Crack!
The bulls head twisted with a loud crack. Dell’s lungs deflated as he watched the animal staggering, knees buckling and eventually, collapsing underneath Soldier’s bulk.
“Daggit, nabbit, naggit, dabbit!” Dell threw the cowboy hat into the sand. “What the HECK yer did THAT for?!”
“He started it!” Soldier snapped. “I finished it!”
Dell knelt before the heap of muscles and fur. “Gosh-darnit, how the hell am I gonna go explain this here ta the farmer?!”
“Tell him this scum-sucking wimp disobeyed his SUPERIORS ORDERS- Ouch!”
Dell gave the Soldier a smack on the back of his helmet. “Asshole!”
“WHUT?!”
Dell ignored him and tended to the struggling animal, taking a proper look at the damage. Its head stood at an unnatural angle, not unlike the way the alligator looked when he had crossed Soldier’s path. The difference between these two animals was, though, that one was up and ready to eat Dell, and the other just had enough of Soldier’s bull-crap. Poor thing. It didn’t deserve this. The bull was still gasping, legs twitching, eyes rolling in its head. Oughta put it out of its misery, he thinks. He’d grab Pop’s rifle and make it quick. Could always compensate the farmer with money. Danit, this hurt in Dell’s soul. The cow stared at him, confused and hurt. It didn’t even know it was dead, not yet.
But, somehow, it was not dead. Not even one bit!
Suddenly the bull jumped up on its hooves, mooing in a panic and before Dell could even properly register was what was happening, let alone grasp the Soldier, it suddenly charged. “Engie!” he heard Soldier’s yell, then a blunt force, pushing him aside and out of the way as the bull, all of the sudden, began charging at(quite literal) neck-break speed.
Dell stared in awe at the animals head, flopping about, twisted to its side and only able to glance at what was happening behind it, which no doubt only made the poor bull panic even more, galloping heedlessly along the compound.
“Moo, moo, moo!!” it cried, perfectly harmonized with Soldier’s equally frightened yelps.
“Hell!!” Dell scrambled up onto his feet again and sprinted towards the horse. Screw this sand, making his movements sluggish, as well as having to chase the thoroughly spooked equine. “Darn it, stop movin’!” he barked at Private, but the horse shrieked in panic and booked it out of there. Dell lurched forwards and got a hold of the reigns. “Down!” he ordered. Private struggled against its restraint, dragging the tinkerer along. Suddenly the horses reared up with a cry as a flash of black fur and bouncing helmet came rushing in their direction, and the reigns gave a mighty tug that tossed Dell forward, and he was promptly face-planting in the sand as Private galloped away and fled.
The bull’s hooves came thundering in his direction, a low thud-thud-thud growing louder and louder. The Texan rolled to its side, and not one second too late as five hundred pounds of blind fright barreled past him. Sand clung to the roof of his mouth and burned in his eyes. There was no time left to spit or sputter, he had to get out of there, and quick!
Once the cloud of dust settled, Dell’s eyes frantically searched the compound. First trying to spot the horse, then Soldier – but finding neither anywhere.
“Dangit!!”
He had no hope that Soldier was still on that bull. Most likely, he’d been either stomped into the ground by now, or, which Dell hoped more for, tossed over the fence.
“Soldier!” he calls over the shrieking of the horse and the frantic crying of the bull and a distant cacophony of worried moo’ing coming from the neighbor’s compound, watching and hearing their herd-mate in a distressed frenzy. Of course, he receives no answer.
He tries standing, jumping up and over the fence, bringing at least that flimsy barrier between him and the bull, should it come charging his way. Adrenaline made his muscles shake and he falls, more than he climbs, off and over the fence, the rope at his belt catching a rusty nail –
The rope!
Everything went very fast, very quickly.
Dell jumps up, grabs the robe, and tied the lasso. Once it was done, he jumped over the fence again, right in that moment where the bull’s charging seemed to have stopped, and it was now bucking so wildly, it rivaled his own ride on Maximus. Its head flopped pitifully to and fro, but its hind legs were still powerful, angrily kicking and punching their air, foam spewing from its mouth and nostrils and eyes. It jumped and tossed and writhed like a black furred fish out of water, kicking up a cloud of dust and sand where everything merged into a flurry of hooves and horns. The panicked mooing made way for angry snarls the likes Engineer had never heard come out of a bull’s mouth – likely that weird angle at which its head was. And over the angry sounds, Dell heard it. Heard it so clear, he nearly dropped the lasso in bafflement.
“Harharhar! DANCE, you fool! DANCE FOR ME!”
It was like watching a god, the god of rodeo to be exactly, in the flesh – perfect posture, knees tugged firmly under his body, digging into the cow’s side. One arm at the strap, the other in the air.
Eight, seven, six, Dell counted, almost on instinct.
He had no idea how – but Soldier was still firmly planted atop the beast despite the no doubt bumpy ride. The straps of his helmet swung as Soldier was flung back and forth, left and right. A maniacal smirk plastered across his face. Dear god, he was actually enjoying this!
Five, four, three …
Even when the bully’s crooked head swung upwards and narrowly missing giving the Soldier yet another headbutt, there was not even a slither of fear nor hesitation on the military man’s bravado.
Two, one …
By the count of zero, Dell finally and mercifully snapped from his awe-struck staring and began swinging the rope instead. With a graceful toss, it landed right where Dell had intended – and with a swift tug, it pulled taut. The bull came to an abrupt, but not less agitated, halt, tossing against the restrains. Dell dug his boots into the sand and pulled against the animal’s force.
“Down!” he demanded.
“What? NO!” Soldier looked down at his now stilled mount, almost as if disappointed. “I JUST got STARTED!”
“I said, DOWN!” his limbs were shaking from the adrenaline and the power of pulling against the bull, but somehow, his voice was loud and clear and carried across the compound. Never had he seen a man hop off a bull quicker.
Dell let go of the rope. The bull stumbled, but quickly regained its balance, chuffing, stomping, dragging its hoof across the dirt, ready for another rampage. Time to git!
Taking a swift and firm hold of Soldier’s collar, he half guided and half dragged the Commando to the fence, pushed him over the railing, then himself – and not one moment too late, as the telltale dull thump-thump-thump of hooves barreling through the sand came closer and closer.
“Watch it!” Dell yelled, took hold of the Soldier, and they stumbled backwards – and Dell prayed to all benevolent deities up there that the fence would hold.
KAPOW! Five hundred pounds of raw anger, confusion and feral bull-instincts crashed into the iron gates. The fence groaned, the gate rattled dangerously, shuddering not unlike Dell’s knees were jittering. The bovine stumbled backwards, knee’s buckling - and then the poor animal finally, mercifully, collapsed in the sand like a bag of potatoes. Not moving. Not making a sound.
One for fence, zero for bull.
There was a moments of stunned silence – Soldier was the first to break it.
“That was the MOST FUN I’ve had since TELEPORTING BREAD!!” Giddy like a kid on Christmas, Soldier glanced back at Dell, a huge smirk stretched across his face. “AGAIN!”
“Nope!”
Soldier was pulled along by the collar of his shirt as Dell began marching off the compound and towards the barn.
“Whu – I was NOT DONE yet!”
“You are done.” Dell shot back, loud enough to shut the rocket man up.
His arms and legs were shaking badly, yet somehow he still managed to move himself, plus Soldier, into the shed.
“Private, you do NOT have the authority to –“
The moment they entered, Dell flung Soldier onto the nearest hay bale. Suddenly, hands grasped and gripped at the Soldier.
“Are ya hurt?” Dell patted him up and down “Any broken bones?” His hands skimmed over Soldier’s shoulders, then his arms, then his ribs, trying to find anything misplaced or causing the taller man pain or distress. Instead, Soldier cringed away from the sudden assault of hands touching him at his ticklish spots. “H-Hey! Keep your hands on your own gear!” Soldier tried pushing him off, but Dell was persistent. Soldier’s jaw was taken into Dell’s calloused hands. “Does it hurt?”
“Wh-What is this –?!“
“Open up.”
Soldier’s lips are pushed back, revealing a single hole where a molar on his upper jaw should be.
“Enough!” Soldier wrung himself out of the Texan’s grasp.
To his greatest relief, the Soldier was not harmed. Aside from a sizeable dent in his helmet and his clothes covered in wet sand and fine yellow dust, he was fine. Not even a scratch.
Incredible. I’ve just witnessed this man ride an out-of-control bull without receiving even a single injury, he thinks. And finally, the freak-out took hold of the tinkerer.
“Ya thick-headed idiot!!” he yelled out, startling a group of finks that had settled in the nooks and crannies under the barn’s roof. “Why the HECK didn’t ya jump off him?!”
“Jump off of him?” Soldier crossed his arms. “YOU told me the rules EXPLICITLY state to stay in the saddle for eight seconds!”
“I—You –?“ Dell’s fingers ran over a worried line on his forehead. Was he serious?
“That’s the rules of rodeo!” Soldier added.
“FUCK the rules of rodeo!!” Dell could hear the collective outcry from all his deceased forefathers at that statement. But in the moment, the darn rules of rodeo was absolutely the last thing on his mind! “Dagnabbit Sal, ya shoul’da jumped off, got behind the fence – anythin’ but keep ridin’!”
“You would suggest RETREAT so openly IN MY PRESENCE?!” Soldier puffed his chest out, the mere suggestion seeming like an insult to his character. “What do you think I am, ITALIAN?! I had that pot roast bend to MY WILL until YOU came along and GOT IN THE WAY!!”
“Got in the way?” Dell’s mouth dropped. “I was tryin’ ta SAVE yer ass!”
“SAVE ME FROM WHAT?” Soldier shot back, standing again. “I just SAID I had him UNDER MY CONTROL!”
“FER HEAVEN’S SAKE!!” Dell tossed his hat to the ground. “Ya snapped his NECK!! Yer didn’t have SHIT under control, Sal! That thing was gon’ trample us into the darn dirt!”
The sand stung in his eyes still. Stuck to the roof of his mouth. Clogged up his throat.
“PAH! You think that half-grown dairy cow could touch ME?!” Soldier growled. “I have had mosquito bites tougher than THIS pile of beef jerky playing TAG like a SCHOOLGIRL!”
The sheer delusion over Soldier perceived immortality was just too much. One of these days he’s going to genuinely get himself murdered, Dell thinks frantically.
His foot catches an empty bucket. The thing went flying with a tinny shriek, crashing into the adjacent wall and making the Soldier cringe.
“DAGGIT, JANE! ” Dell shouted at him. “IT COULD’A KILLED YOU!”
Soldier set onto another one of his nonsense answers about how nothing can kill him and his American spirit and blah blah, but Dell wouldn’t hear it. “Hell to all! I already almost lost yer before! Ain’t ONCE enough for ya?!”
The words spilled from Dell’s mouth before he can stop them. And mercifully, it rendered the Soldier mute too. His jaw hung open for one, two more seconds, before he closed it, slowly. All toughness and enthusiasm melted off of the Commando like hot wax, leaving his shoulders drawn in and head lowered. Looking much like a puppy that wet the carpet.
Ugh. It made his chest ache that much worse.
Dell dug his fingers firmly into his eyelids, the other curled so tightly it was painful, in an attempt at keeping his composure against the storm of emotions that crashed so abruptly against the shore of his consciousness it threatened to drown him. Again. Having him back, only to lose him again. For real this time. Forever, potentially. Once more Dell finds himself simultaneously too angry and too relieved to do anything but just stand there, trying to keep his tears at bay. Gosh, he was such a crybaby.
“Were you scared?” He hears the Soldier ask him. His voice had significantly mellowed down from the previous boisterous tone, which Dell was grateful for.
“Sal, I am fightin’ fer mah dang life ta keep mahself together here, what the hell do yer think how scared I was?” he hated how pathetic his voice sounded, scratchy, wet and wavering.
“You shouldn’t have been.”
It only then occurred to Dell what the man was doing, hearing his own words from previous night relayed back to him. Sniffling, Dell lifted his head. Looked at him, covered in dirt and dried blood on his upper lip. Looking at that dent in his helmet, the depression having taken on the shape of one of the bull’s nobs that grew on its head. It looks ridiculous, he thinks.
And he doesn’t know what happens, but the urge to just …laugh overpower any sadness in this moment. It begins with silent, muffled chuckles. He hears Soldier’s startled intake of air, no doubt mistaking this sound for something direr.
“Private, are you CRYING?”
He’ll never get that darn helmet fixed up properly ever again, Dell thinks and it does nothing to ease the bout of humor stirring within him.
“D-Do not cry! You don’t have my PERMISSION to cry!“
Which makes Dell just laugh harder, and Soldier all the more unsure about what to do to comfort the (very obviously!) crying Engineer before him.
“I SAID --! YOU --! I … Dell …”
“Ah, heck!”
No more use in hiding it. Dell openly guffawed, hand over his eyes, holding his stomach. “This is jus’ too much. Hah! Haha!”
Soldier stared at him owlishly. Not quite the reaction he had expected, obviously, watching the tinkerer nearly fold like an omelet with laughter.
“I ain’t ever seen anythin’ as … as stupid as this! Haha! Ya snapped his gosh-darn neck!”
“ … I did.” Soldier nodded, slowly, carefully. Like he was afraid that fit of laughter would turn to anger again any second. It doesn’t though, as the tinkerer covers his face in his hands, laughing into the palms of his hands.
“A-And then ya went and RODE it, yer doggone RODE that son’uva’bitch!”
“I did!”
And what’s worse? He was … he was … “Dagnabbit, Sal! I can’t even be mad at ya - Yer were flippin’ MARVELOUS!”
“I was!!”
Suddenly Soldier joined in and their combined laughter echoed through the barn and across the pastures. This man is going to be the death of me, Dell thinks, and maybe it’s this fit of guffaws – but he wouldn’t have it any other way. When they gradually simmer down, they found themselves out of breath, their faces wet and flushed, their bodies aching and Dell leaning against the Soldier to not fall into the dirt.
“Ya darn Yankee,” Dell patted the sturdy side of his neck. “I oughta have you shovel horse shit fer the rest of the month fer nearly givin’ me a darn heartattack.”
Soldier grimace indignantly. “What do you think I am? A green beak? Latrine duty is for the NEW RECRUITS! Where is that horse?” Soldier looked around the barn. “HE made it, HE will discard of it!”
Dell followed his gaze, curious as to where Private had galloped off to. But when he glanced out at the compound, he noticed the heap of black fur, still lying there in the dirt, motionless, and he sighed. “First we oughta take care of that guy there.” He bend down to pick up his cowboy hat, dusting if off. He might need it to hide his face in shame when he had to face the farmer, explaining to him the situation.
“Shucks … still jus’ a baby he was.” I should’ve paid for a bigger, older one, Dell realized. Too late for that now. “Ugh. Darn it Sal, ya have any idea how much a bull costs?”
“TOO MUCH, if you ask me! ESPECIALLY that one!” Soldier chuffed, nodding at the lifeless bull. “He calls himself a BULL? I have seen LEATHER COUCHES livelier than him! YOU should get a REFUND!”
“Sal, I can’t have yer snap every darn animal’s necks around here jus’ because yer feel like it!” Dell chided him. “Ain’t jus’ bout the money!”
“Wh – Y-You had no issue when I did it to that ALLIGATOR.” Soldier argued. True, but still. This was comparing apples to oranges.
“That’s cuz they are known man-eaters. That there bull did nuthin’ but defend himself against yer bullying.”
“I didn’t bully him!” Soldier crossed his arms. “I was testing his METTLE!”
“And then ya went and killed him.” It wasn’t Dell’s first time, watching an animal die on his farm. It was just part of the program when one fostered animals – but it thoroughly sucked when said death comes at such unfortunate circumstances. A hungry coyote. A truck and a hole in the fence. Soldiers …
“I didn’t kill him.” The military man replied, matter-of-factly.
Dell rolled his eyes. “Yes you did. I saw what y’all did to his neck, poor thing’s head was pointing upwards.”
“He is NOT dead, Private.”
“Then what do y’all call THIS here, huh?” Dell pointed at the still unmoving bull sprawled across the sand. If Soldier didn’t kill him, then that nasty crash into the fence had surely done it in.
“That’s not dead, Private! That’s dishonorable DRAFT EVASION, is what THAT is! Watch!” And Soldier marched past the flabbergasted Engineer, and towards the compound. Knowing fully well there was nothing more they could do to bring the poor animal back to life, Dell had no choice but to entertain the Soldier’s claims and joined him, leaning against the fence with his arms crossed, watching the military man jump over the fence and kneel in the kicked up dirt next to the bull. The thing was out like a light – eyes hooded and rolled up into its large skull, its tongue dangling from its snout. No muscle inside him stirred when Soldier patted its furry cheek.
“Wakey, wakey, princess!” he barked at the bull. No reaction. A fly buzzed close and landed on the cow’s eyeball. Not even the slightest flinch.
“Sal,” Dell sighed, suddenly having the realization that Soldier might not really …understand the difference between ‘dead” and …well. Dead. Dead for good. No coming back from it. Which was strange - He ought to know the difference, right? Perhaps being connected to the respawn system had permanently changed the man’s conception of death. After all, when they died, they materialized back into being no ten seconds later. Could be Soldier thought the same would apply here.
“Sal, let it go.” Dell said, gently. “He’s gone. Ain’t no respawn machine fer animals out there, y’know?” which is also going to be a hard conversation in the future, should Lieutenant Bites, well … bite the dust someday, he realized.
Soldier said no word. He took the bull’s large head into his arms and cradled it there. And for a moment, perhaps, clarity came to the Commando as well, as he looked into those large, gentle dark bull-eyes, and finding not a hint of life in there. Dell reached out, wanting to touch the Soldier’s shoulder in consolation.
Until –
“REVERSE NECK SNAP!”
With a loud ‘CRACK!’, Soldier snapped the bull’s head upwards. Dell cringed at that noise. “Hell!” All feelings of sympathy flew out the window. Killing an innocent animal was one thing – further desecrating it was another, and not one Dell would stand there by idly and watch! “A’right, that’s IT!” he clambered up the fence. “I’ve about HAD IT up ta HERE with yer --!”
Something hard, black and furred slammed into him, sending him careening back into the metal gate. When he opens his eyes, he stares into two large, VERY large brown bull- eyes, staring back at him in equal surprise and shock. “Moo?!”
No.
No way.
Before Dell could even begin to understand what was happening, the animal jumped up on its jittering knees and booked it the other direction, foaming at the mouth and ears flicking with fright. Especially after it spotted the helmeted man. Dell had no words. It was alive. And aside from some mental scarring, it looked fine, healthy and unharmed.
“On your feet, Private!” he is grabbed and pulled upwards and he has no choice but to follow. “We are not at your second grade ballet recital!”
“How …How did y-?“
“Easy. I WOKE HIM UP!” Soldier patted his hands clean on his pants. “If that little PROM QUEEN thinks he can just go AWOL on me AGAIN, I will CRAWL into his little dreams and KICK HIS ASS!”
“Moo?!” The bull gasped.
The tinkerer had no reasonable explanation for what the Soldier had just done. Does the law of reason apply to this man at all, he wonders?
“Now I’ve seen everythin’.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet, toymaker! I was just getting WARMED UP!” And Soldier stomped towards the bull. “Get your furry ass back here, bambi! I am NOT DONE with you YET!”
“Moo!” The bovine cried out, and quickly tried escaping the approaching Soldier. But he stood no chance to Soldier’s newly acquired taste for bull-riding. And Dell was still too awe-struck to stop him.
“About darn time.” The farmer growled, spitting the straw he’s been chewing on to the floor when he spots the tinkerer plus bull approaching.
“Yeah. Pardon fer the wait.” Engie tipped his hat. He had not intended on keeping the animal for this long or wearing it down that much, if it wasn’t for Soldier’s never ending enthusiasm. Nearly dying seemed to put no hamper on the Soldier whatsoever. If anything, it made his hunger for more just greater. Despite the following hours, he never did manage to re-create his perfect ride from before, more often than not falling off or having to chase the still thoroughly terrified bull around the compound. And while the bovine would likely not be able to walk properly for a while, Soldier was no worse for wear, quite the opposite. Having swallowed the shock from before, Dell had insisted Soldier not to continue. But try as he might, eventually, he was carried away just as quickly, throwing encouragements and praises at him once realizing the Commando had the situation under control. The sun sat low on the sky in deep orange hues by the time he finally managed to convince Soldier to part with the animal.
“Damn right pardon yer. What’yer thinkin’ this is, some sort of charity -- The heck’s wrong with him?” the farmer frowned down at his bull.
“Errr…” Dell glanced down along the rope, tied to the bull’s nose ring. Said animal was standing there, not moving much, aside from trembling. Wide-eyed and covered in a cold sweat, it looked nothing short of an animal that had experienced…things. Soldier-shaped things, to be exact. The white of its eyes popped from its eyesockets. Had it been full of energy, trust and freshness before, it was now a bundle of nerves, staring at the ground in shell-shock.
“Well, ahem …” Dell coughed. “Guess I’ve been a bit err, unforgivin’ on him.”
“Looks like he saw the devil, he did.” The farmer sniffed. Close, Dell thought.
“Nahh, nah. None of that. Jus’, err … well, first ride’s always bumpy. But, he’s fixinta’ become a real proper rodeo-steed. Strong like two fully-grown mother-hubbers. Give it three, four more months n’ he’s gonna fling cowboys left n’ right.”
One glance at the bovine’s eyes, and Dell knew, it would gladly rather jump into any meat grinder than ever be ridden again. He had himself a proper next cheeseburger, if anything.The farmer tsk’ed. His thick, brown mustache creased with malcontent. “Yer lettin’ half of Texas rodeo-ride him or what?”
“Sorta.”
“Feh!” The farmer took the rope from his hand and pulled the animal back behind the fence, reuniting it with its herd. “Darn rednecks,” Dell heard him complain under that mustache.
To his surprise, he didn’t find Soldier back at the compound and not in the adjacent barn either, where he had last left the Commando. Instead, following the crescent moon shapes of horse hooves in the mud and the noise of gruff mid-western drawl echoing over the farm, he finds both Private and Soldier tucked away back in the horse’s box. Soldier sat on a nearby hay bale, furiously scrubbing the horse-brush over one if his boots to shed it off mud and cow-shift.
“And then what does that fat ugly maggot do? He head-butts me! HEAD-BUTTING. ME! Can you believe that?”
The horse huffed, as if in agreement. Its teeth were nibbling on his shirt. Soldier’s shirt was covered in dirt and grassy stains, military boots in a similar condition, but the horse found joy in chewing it either way. Old habits die hard, Dell thinks and grins, leaning against the wooden gate and just watching for a moment.
“So naturally, I had to teach that PINKO a lesson! You do NOT head-butt your COMMANDING OFFICER AND get away with it!”
Private nodded its head.
“Look at this!”
Soldier pointed at his head, or more likely, at the helmet. “Do you SEE THIS? THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE! This is an utter disrespect to my uniform! And therefore and utter disrespect to ME!”
The horse whinnied, blowing hot, indignant air through its nostrils as it spotted the indention of Soldier’s usually round, firm helmet. Utter disrespect, indeed, Private seemed to say. The two regarded the helmet for a moment.
“Take it to Engie?” Soldier asked the horse upon its soft chuffing. “Son, that is an EXCELLENT idea.” His hand patted down on its shoulder. “He will know how to fix it! He can fix anything!”
Dell smiled. It was nice seeing the two of them interact again, especially in such a relaxed, amicable way. Especially after what happened. Soldier’s hesitation around horses seemed momentarily forgotten – which was a good thing, if he wanted to …
If he wanted to …
“Someone called an Engineer?”
Soldier and Private lifted their heads and turned, and upon spotting the grinning Texan, both seemed to swiftly shift back into professional stiffness, Soldier and the horse drawing away from each other at a respectable distance, looking away.
“Ahem,” Soldier coughed.
“Hff,” the horse coughed.
“Do not concern yourself, civilian. I was just …” he threw a glance at the horse. “J-JUST in the middle of a debriefing!”
“Yeah?” Dell sauntered closer. “And the consensus?”
“Consensus is … uh …” Soldier’s head turned, scanning the area - trying to find something to lead his train of thoughts. “THIS long-faced fruitbasket abandoned post at the most CRUCIAL of moments!” and he stretched his pointer accusatorily into Private’s direction. “That is not just dishonorable, that is TREASON! It is deserving of a section eight AND a section NINE!”
Titular long-faced fruitbasket shook its head incredulously, puffing out a breath and staring at the Soldier in disbelief. How dare you, its eyes said, and he stomped ones with its back hoof – a noise that made the Soldier very quickly teeter away from the large animal. Not entirely over his fear yet, it seemed.
“Now, now.” Dell carefully approached the equine, petting its snout. “He didn’t mean it.”
“YES I DID!” Soldier pointed his boot at the both of them. “No excuses, hardhat! Wars aren’t won by FLEEING! Wars are won by FIGHTING - You and I, we are just as strong as the weakest link in your garrison!”
That seemed to be just a bit too much for the equine. Big blunt teeth suddenly snapped forward, and both men jumped, fearing the soft-spoken animal had suddenly decided to lash out and bite the Commando – instead, however, it wrapped its lips around the boot and with a graceful swing of its head, it flew in a high arch across the barn. With a ‘thump’ it landed behind the tower of hay bales stacked at the other side of the barn.
Soldier cursed and sputtered, multiple “Maggot!”’s and “Judas!”’s thrown around as he chased after his gear. The horse whinnied satisfied, almost sounding like a soft laughter in the back of its throat, watching the Commando chase after it like a child chasing after its ball. Yet when its eyes spotted Dell’s face, brow raised and lips slightly curved, it stopped, then looked away quickly.
“I have a bone ta pick with ya,” he told the equine, and it almost seemed to know what was coming. “Y’all knew he was hidin’ round here. Didn’t ya?”
Private chuffed. Not really a no. Not really a yes. But he’d never seen a horse look so sheepish – ears flat on its head, suddenly awfully interested in chewing on its hay instead of making eye-contact. “And y’all did not even give me a hint, hm? Boy, I oughta beat yer like the rented mule y’all are.”
Private shook its mane, a clear ‘no’ to that suggestion. Dell chuckled, giving the horse a gentle pat on its neck. “Ah, well. Can’t really be mad with ya – friends keep each other’s secrets, after all. Ain’t that right?”
Private seemed to like the idea of being Soldier’s friend.
“Ah-HAH!” came the man’s voice from behind the haybales. He emerged, triumphantly lifting his boot. “Gear re-acquired! No thanks to YOU, Private Twinkle -hooves!”
“Ya luv him,” Dell chuckled, taking in the man before him in all his horse-shit covered glory.
His helmet hung lopsided from the dent in there, his shirt and slacks now not just covered in mud and grassy spots and fine black bull hair, but now also in straw, skin flushed from the sunburn forming on his arms and the tip of his nose. He looked so ridiculous and so endearing at the same time, Dell wanted to wrap his arms around him and smooch him silly.
“Pah!” Soldier harrumphed. “There are only THREE THINGS this American war-achine loves on this earth! Lady Liberty, ribs – and SENSIBLE HAIRCUTS!” he hops on one foot trying to slip his boot on his other leg. “Free-loving, gear-disrespecting ANIMALS are NOT on that list! Did you SEE what that horned maggot did to my helmet?” he pointed at it, as if it wasn’t an un-noticeable blemish. “No beast that loves his HOMETURF would disrespect his SUPERIOR this way!”
“Well, we can fix that, no problem.” Engie sauntered closer. “Pop’s got an anvil in his shop. Shouldn’t be no issue ta –“ And then he notices the Soldier’s posture stiffen, and his hands wrapped around the helmet, in the process of lifting it.
And the Engineer stops instantly.
It had been a reflex, an instinct born from his title and his passion as an Engineer: when something needed fixing, he was there right away, wasting no time to get hands-on. Especially something as easy as an iron helmet. His mind had been immediately working up some possible ways to bend it back into its original shape – that was until he remembered. This was Soldier. This was his helmet. And once it had been shed by his own volition, in the safety of their home. And once by force out here in the open. He sees the tenseness in Soldier’s shoulders, notices his breath falter and stop. A cold shudder rakes through Dell’s body. What am I doing?
“Sorry,” he let go of him at once, the heavy metal lid sliding down on his face once more. He took a few steps away from the military man for good measure. “I … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ta …“
I’m an idiot, he chides himself. What the hell was I even thinking? Scratch that, he hadn’t been thinking.
There was a moment of thick, awkward silence, in which Dell held his breath, didn’t dare breathing. Fear gripped him by the throat, tightly.
He feared this little, improvident action would cause the military man to go into panic mode again. And, worse – to flee again. Dell knew he would not be able to handle having the Soldier run off once more – his heart would simply ache too much to beat another beat.
But Soldier did not do such a thing. Instead, carefully, and slowly, Soldier lifts his hands, takes the helmet and tosses it aside. As if he had done this a thousand times around the tinkerer already, the Kevlar clanking as it hit the ground. And Dell looks up at him – finding no trace of fear or anger or anything that resembled that expression of terror plastered across his features the last time his helmet has been lifted in this barn. Just that familiar, stony expression on his brows, only betrayed by the softness in his eyes.
Beautiful, Dell thinks.
His legs move on his own, stepping closer to him.
His shirt would need a deep-clean he knew, rubbing against Soldier’s stained clothes. But in this moment, he could not find it in him to care much, as Soldier took an unannounced hold of his shoulders and drew him close, body crushing into his, and his mouth on his. Dell held onto his neck, sighing softly into the kiss, anxiety melting off of him all at once when in Soldier’s arms. Despite having his fill the night prior, he could never really quite get enough of this. Of him. Chapped lips, tasting like toothpaste or cigars and sometimes honey or beer when they shared one. Always slightly stiff and clumsy at the beginning. And then rougher, hungrier, more teeth than mouth.
Gingerly running his fingers over Soldier’s arms, he could feel raw power vibrating under his skin, remnants of adrenaline from his bull-ride, exuding the scent of warm salt and animal hair and hay, an intoxicating aroma to Dell’s senses – gotta get him to ride more often, he tells himself. Much more often … It was doing some very funny things to his head. And his lower half, as well. Dell’s hand wanders off, down the Commando’s shirt, along the small of his back, where it was still damp from sweat pooling there, over his belt and taking a hold of his muscled glutes – and startled as the man above him flinched away, hissing.
“Shoot! You okay?”
“I’m fine!” he ground out. But Dell suddenly realized what it was, and one glance down at the Soldier’s pants and the inside of his thighs, spotting crimson blotches soaking into the jeans, confirmed his suspicions. A good ol’ saddle rash.
Despite the situation, Dell guffaws.
“Stop laughing!” Soldier snapped at him.
“Sorry, sorry. Jus’ … boy, y’all rode ya ass sore!”
“IT’S NOT FUNNY!” he pouted.
For Dell, yes. Not so much for the Soldier, he could imagine. And so, Dell took him back home, promising to take care of him. Soldier, of course, denied help, saying he ‘didn’t need a nurse’, that this was good and honest pain he acquired through good and honest work, that it was just his weakness leaving his body – until the cool, soothing cream hit his irritated skin. Dell took his time seated on his knees, rubbing soothing circles into the man’s inner thighs, promising he’ll be fine by morning. Not than some irritated skin could ever take someone the likes of Soldier down. But considering it gradually ebbed down Soldier’s vocal protests, he figured the other man appreciated being taken care of for once. As well as being touched so intimately.
And when he was done patching the Soldier up, Dell found himself really not wanting to stand up again - Perfectly fine here, seated on his knees, hands on the Soldier’s furred legs, reviewing his handiwork: skin lathered up and glistening from the cream, as well as sweat, the Soldier’s abdomen heaving in breaths a little deeper.
And thus they found each other in the master bedroom again, curtains drawn shut, Soldier seated on the bed, legs spread wide apart to accommodate the Engineer between them as he is being petted and kissed down there.
The sores looked quite painful but Dell knew, to the Soldier, they were mere inconveniences. And still, Dell left a trail of first gentle, then deep, sweet kisses on the skin there, rough and covered in hair and issuing the scent of Soldier’s sweat and natural body scent, an intoxicating mixture to Dell’s senses. He could swear he even smelled some of that bull on him and found it fit the Soldier well. I’ll make a proper cowboy of him, yet.
He mouths and kisses and playfully nibbles at his abdominal muscles, and he is rewarded with the man’s surprised grunts and quickened breaths, making the sunburn on his neck and chest flush even redder. It all adds to the slowly growing denture in his boxers.
Soldier makes a slightly frustrated noise at the fact that the tinkerer between his legs was demonstratively doing nothing to alleviate the stress in his lower abdomen, slowly tenting the white cotton underwear, and now straining rather uncomfortably in its fabric prison. When he wiggles his hips in an attempt at maybe drawing the Texans attention to it, Dell takes a firm grip on his legs.
Dell glances up to him. The helmet is shed, but Soldier’s eyes are scanning the ceiling, brows knit together in either anger or anxiety – it was hard to distinguish the two of them. Dell leaves a wet kiss just above the Soldier’s waistband.
“Look at me.”
Soldier does, for a second, before his eyes drift back and away from him.
“Sal,” he comfortingly strokes and squeezes his inner thigh. “Look at me.”
Soldier’s fingers clench slightly, holding onto the sheets a little tighter. Their eyes met and Dell is glad that this time, Soldier does not look away. Not even as Dell finally, mercifully, hooks his fingers into his elastic waistband and draws the fabric down. Soldier almost looks like his eyes would fall out of his head at the scene that unfolded before him – the shorter man, on his knees, caressing his legs and now eyeing his manhood with intent.
“Heh. Yer still packin’ a proper gun, hoss.” Dell spit into his hand and almost painfully slowly, wraps his fingers around him and begins stroking.
Last time they had been like this, Dell had been thoroughly drunk and most of the memory had been a blur now, a fact Dell lamented to this day. Today, though, he’d do right by him. Every inch of Soldier is tough and strong and calloused, and his prize was no different, angrily throbbing back at him whenever Dell runs the pad of his thumb against the underside of his head, eagerly responding to his firmer and softer touches.
“A-And you still have a firm trigger-finger, Private.” Soldier ground back.
“Jus’ yer wait what my tongue can do.”
“Whut?”
On his last down-stroke, Dell opens his mouth and lets the flushed tip of Soldier slide into his mouth. The reaction was instant and glorious – Soldier almost jumped off the bed in surprise, legs grounding into the floor. A hiss escaped his lungs, and then, a shuddering, close-mouthed moan when his cock slides out of Dell’s mouth, and then back inside. The tinkerer begins bobbing his head up and down and around him, stroking what his lips can’t reach, watching the man’s face closely. The way he knits his brows together in concentration. The way he squeezes his eyes shut and opens them again and occasionally throws a curious glance down, only to avert his eyes again as the blush deepened on his cheeks. Beautiful, Dell thinks.
He lets his hands run up and down his thighs, squeezing here, massaging there. Doing the same to his inner thighs. Doing the same to his cock as he hollowed his cheeks and gave the Soldier’s member a hearty suck, tongue pressing him against the roof of his mouth.
“Unngh!” Soldier growled. “Engie…”
There’s a feeble attempt at holding still and evening his breathing, but not for long as instincts make the Soldier buck his hips forwards – and none too gently. Dell flinches with surprise as Soldier’s cock nearly slides into his throat with no forewarning and he draws away with a startled cough. “W-Whoa, easy, Tex.” He chuckles nervously and balances himself on his leg.
“W-Why did you stop?!” Soldier looked so disappointed, Dell had to laugh. “What’s so FUNNY?”
“N-Nuthin’, nuthin’.” Dell tried to control the fits of giggles and failed – and paid the price. Suddenly, he is picked up and the laughter dies on his tongue. Soldier scowls at him, an indication that pain would surely follow soon. Oh crap!
“I’M TIRED OF THIS LAUGHING-BUSINESS OF YOURS!” he growled. “You think this is funny? I will SHOW you funny!!”
“Whu?”
Soldier flings him onto the bed.
Dell expected fists to fly – and instead, he feels fingers clawing at his own waistband, angrily and therefore clumsily tugging at the fabric. Dell blinks in confusion when his sense return to him and he finds the Soldier having swapped places with him, now on his knees and glaring daggers at Dell’s underwear, and the tinkerer on the bed.
“W-Whoa, Sal, w-what are ya doing?”
“What does it LOOK LIKE I am DOING?!” Soldier ground out. “I wanna do …THAT! What you just did!”
Dell watches helplessly as his underwear is dragged down to his ankles and his legs are spread by two powerful hands, accommodating the Soldier’s bulk between them.
And now here he was, nude, aside from his tank top which the Soldier had raked up over his chest, feeling all flabby white-bellied compared to Soldier’s peak physical form, and he could do nothing but be at the mercy of Soldier’s curious, searching gaze. Heat shot up into his face, into his ears and the tip of his nose.
“S-Sal,” Dell laughs nervously. “Y-Yer dun’ have ta-“
“THIS IS NO LAUGHING MATTER, GREASE MONKEY!” Soldier scowled at him.
This was a lethal mixture – Dell’s insecurity and Soldier’s comical stoicism. More nervous chuckles tumbled from his mouth, unwillingly, but he could not help it when Soldier clumsily pushed and pawed at his shirt.
“You will laugh when I TELL you to laugh!”
“S-Sorry, Sorry,” Dell chuckled.
Shrrsh! The noise of fabric tearing rattles the Texan out of his discombobulation. It seemed that Soldier’s patience to try and push Dell’s wife beater up his shoulders had grown thin and he resorted to tearing it instead. “What in -Hey! Dun’ yer go n’ rip my darn clothes, yer yankee! How bout sum’ tenderness?”
“It was in the way!”
Before Dell can even speak, everything comes to a sudden, crashing halt and sobers the Texan right up as then, without a warning, Soldier suddenly closes his mouth around his cock. “Oh fff- Sal!”
“What?” Soldier looks up. “Still not tender enough?” He grumbled into his bellybutton, his voice vibrating and making his stomach flutter.
“Y-Yer a’right, jus’… y’all gotta warn me when yer doin’ that!” He chuckled.
“Warn you?” Soldier murmured questioningly.
“Y-Yeah!” Dell swallowed drily, and wanted to add more, nervous habit of him, but Soldier interrupted with a candid: “I am warning you now!” And lowers his head on him again. This time, Dell is somewhat more prepared for it though, but he still flinches when he feels the Commando’s warm, wet tongue sliding against him and he holds onto Soldier’s skull when the tip of his cock slips past Soldier’s lips once more.
Like most of Soldier’s ministrations, it was a little clumsy and rough around the edges, but Dell went with the flow. He picks up a quick, jerky pace. “Slowly, slowly.” He puffs out, voice a little brittle from the strange new sensation – one he had never imagined he’d receive from the likes of Soldier, but here he was. Dell swallows dryly and casts a look down at himself, not quite yet believing it. Sure enough, he sees Soldier’s focused face, dark brows furrowed with concentration, and Dell’s cock vanishing in the military man’s incredibly warm mouth. It’s a fantasy he’d rarely indulged in, and now that it was coming true, Dell had to bite down on his tongue to not cum right there and then.
His heart is thundering in his ears, body drumming. When Soldier drags his tongue experimentally along the underside of his shaft, Dell’s legs shudder.
“Hah. Watch them teeth, Sal.” He murmured when one of Soldier’ canines accidentally drags against his member, making him hiss with apprehension. The dizzying idea that Soldier could very easily bite off his dick if he wasn’t careful came to his mind, momentarily.
But when Soldier lets his jaw go slack, it’s nothing short of heaven.
“Yeah. Jus’ like that. Atta boy.” Dell’s fingers dig into the sheets below and curl around Soldier’s nape, not pushing or pulling, just holding onto Soldier as he fumbled his way around pleasuring the Engineer. He’s guided by the noises the shorter man does, sighs, stifled moans and hisses when he does something particularly nice with his tongue. Engie’s head lulls back, eyes shut tightly. He fights, and loses, the battle of keeping his hips still, digging his feet into the ground until the wooden floor panels creaked but cannot hold his hips from stuttering forwards when Soldier growls around his throbbing cock, a vibrating sensation that shudders right through his entire body. Soldier’s eyes shoot open in surprise, a startled noise in the back of his throat, there, where Engineer’s cock had slid down into seconds ago. Dell curses. “Shoot, apologies.” And he makes an attempt at drawing away. But Soldier’s hold on him suddenly tightens and now Dell could not escape even if he wanted to.
“You are NOT dismissed!” Soldier barks, not a trace of hesitation or doubt or, worse, regret on his features. Dell stares at him, finds no words to try and warn him that this was already almost too much for the tinkerer, and he didn’t want to overwhelm the man – because he slides behind the Soldier’s lips again and his brain shuts off entirely.
Fortunately for them, Soldier’s grasp kept Dell from any more sudden thrusts – but to Dell’s misfortune, the Soldier had set it now in his mind to take as much of him into his mouth and throats as he was able to, filling the room with the sound of his grunts and Dell’s amazed panting and noises of pleasure. Fingers dig desperately into his scalp as a sharp pull announced itself in his abdomen. Oh fuck!
“Sal, I – agh, dangit, Sal, if’n yer dun’ stop this, I– I’m -!“
But that just seemed to spur the Soldier on even more, his hand pawing and squeezing and clawing at Dell’s hips and legs and abdomen and chest, and his determined growls and snarls vibrating around his cock and it’s a delicious mixture that leaves the tinkerer out of breath and panting and stutter out Soldier’s name in a feeble attempt at warning him again.
And then Soldier swallows around him. Dell’s eyes roll into the back of his skull. And then he does it again! And it’s more than enough to send Dell crashing into the finish line. He comes with a sharp groan, his body throbbing, heart pounding in his ears. There was no time or space to draw away from him, but amazingly, Soldier made no attempt at drawing away either. He took all of what Dell gave him, no hesitation, no signs of protest. And in this moment Dell loved the man more than he likely ever had.
The mattress groans as Dell collapses into it. For a moment, there’s just the sound of his pounding heart and his panting. Slowly, his mind and senses clear again from the white noise buzzing pleasantly in his head, and he blinks up at two soft and gentle baby blues, staring back at him.
“Hi.” He says, lamely.
“Look at you.” Soldier scowled at him. “You’re a wuss.”
So much for pillow-talking. Not that Engineer complained.
“Not even two minutes in and I have you crying for your mama already.”
“Heh,” Engie smirked and shrugged. “Well. Rules say eight seconds ta stay on a bull’s back.” He can’t believe he’s still thinking about rodeo even now. This man was going to be his doom, he thinks.
Soldier chuffed. “Eight? You’re giving yourself TOO MUCH credit, geppeto! I bet I will have you begging for mercy in seven.”
Dell’s mind sobered up real quick, hearing the man above him utter that. He glanced at him, clear-eyed.
Did … did that mother-hubber just dare him?
If there was one thing Soldier should know by now, it’s to not ever, EVER, dare a Conagher. Or you might catch his horns.
“That so?”
Suddenly, Soldier is grabbed and the world turns momentarily, and suddenly it was Dell leaning over him. Faces inches apart. “And I’mma have yer beg in less ‘an five, hombre.”
Soldier’s eyes bulged at that comment – he could watch his pupils slowly blowing wide with something feral. Something lustful. Strong hands grasp his face.
The world spins again, Dell feels the man ground down onto him, lips at his throat, teeth digging into his skin. “Four,” he snarls huskily into his neck, leaving passionate kisses up and down his jugular, pushing their lowers bodies together in a dizzying mix of over-stimulation and carnal desires. And for a moment, Dell lets his head fall back and just enjoy the feeling of Soldier’s body on his, legs entangled, hands holding onto him tightly and desperately and being kissed and ravaged. And maybe if that jarhead hadn’t just challenged him, he might’ve let himself go with the flow, too.
But then his male pride, the pride of the Conagher name rears its head again, and with a vengeance. Four? Darn yankee-doodle will eat his words right up.
Soldier, having tasted his little victory, and positive that he has his little Engineer loved down into submission, is suddenly pulled out of it when once again, Dell pushes him and they roll until Dell is firmly seated atop him, thighs clenched around his hips, hands wrapped around his wrists above his head. “No more games, tex.” Dell smirked. “Three.”
“Wh-? Y-You –!“ Soldier looked so utterly baffled by the change of scenery, and with his hands pushed into the mattress above his head, his jaw was slack for a moment. “UnHAND ME, maggot!” he finally barks and begins struggling against his restrains. A fruitless endeavor, as he comes to realize. Dell was strong, just as strong as he was, and these hands had held onto firmer, stronger and rowdier equipment. He smirks, triumphantly.
“Nope.”
“What do you MEAN, NOPE?!” Soldier barked. “You have NO AUTHORITY here!! I HAVE the authority, and that was an ORDER!”
“The way I see it,” Engineer drawls, leaning over him. “Y’all went n’ uttered a challenge ta the wrong fella. And now yer payin’ the price fer it. Told ya – I ain’t toleratin’ rowdy Soldier-boys on mah turf.”
Soldier’s face went beet-red
“Y-Your turf? YOUR turf?! Your turf is NOTHING! Your turf isn’t worth the CRAP under my boots! I wipe my ASS with your turf! ” Soldier struggles again, this time employing his hips and legs to push and buck against him. “Just you wait until I have unhanded MYSELF! I will not go EASY on y—!” his rant is momentarily halted when Dell grinds down on him, pressing down against Soldier’s unwavering hardness. Not even the shock of his authority being questioned had put a damper to Soldier’s arousal. Quite the opposite, it seemed, actually…
“A-Are you even LISTENING?”
Dell was not. He had to find a solution to free his hands, yet keep the man below him from doing something hilarious – like grabbing him, holding him, pulling him close and then Dell knew he would not be able to resist the Commando’s passionate touches any longer.
His eyes drifted to a few items of choice. That scarf in his mother’s open closet. The belt on his pants. That extension cord on the nightstand…
“Are you not just OUT OF LINE, but also DEAF?! I TOLD you that was an OR--!”
Dell let go of his wrists. Soldier, momentarily surprised about his sudden release, blinked. Moved his hands. And then it clicked. “Ah-HAH!” he sprang forward, hands outstretched. “Now, you will REGRET –!“
In a flash, Soldier’s arms were grasped, the cord tied around them and with a tug, secured. And all of the sudden Soldier’s hands were immobilized, once again. Not by a strong hand. Not by Dell’s weight, either. When he stares up, he finds the tinkerer sat back on his haunches, hands on his hips, chuckling to himself.
“Now you dun’ look like a happy camper, mister. Hah!”
“Whu?” Soldier tugged at his wrist, uselessly. Glancing up, he found them bound, tightly, a white, sturdy cable wrapped around them and bound to one of the iron bars of the headboard. It took him a moment. And then, he exploded. “W-WHAT? WHAT IS THIS? YOU COWARD! You SHEEP-HERDER! You think TYING ME UP is going to SAVE YOUR SORRY ASS FROM YOUR WELL-DESERVED SECTION EIGHT?! What’s the MATTER WITH YOU?!” The entire bed rattles as Soldier thrashes against his restrains. “I AM YOUR COMMANDER!” he snapped and huffed. “Untie me NOW!”
“Yer nothin’ but sum troublesome bull is what yer are.” Dell smirked and now had free and uninterrupted access to the man’s writhing body beneath him. And what a glorious sight that was, indeed, watching the man between his thighs, huffing and puffing, skin ruddy and hot. It’s enough to stir his cock back to life. He lets his hand spread over the Soldier’s sweat-soaked chest, combing through his chest hair. “And do ya know what happens ta troublesome bulls on mah turf?”
Soldier did not answer, nose flaring with every angry intake and exhale of air – but somehow equally interested at the path Dell’s hands took along his body. “We wrangle em’.” Dell said, tracing his abs. “We hog-tie em,” Dell said. His hands slipped beneath their bodies and Soldier grunted in surprise as his balls are taken into a firm hold. “We castrate ‘em, if we dun’ like the looks of ‘em.”
Soldier’s body tensed under him, a look of panic crossed his face for a second. “Y-You will do NONE of that!”
“Hmm, I dunno,” he tightens his hold on the Soldier’s privates, tapping his chin. “Maybe I will.”
Soldier snapped his jaw shut, gnashing his teeth. “Then it will be the LAST THING you’ll do, professor!” Engineer startles when the Soldier bucks his hips up so quickly and strongly it almost threatens to push Dell off the bed entirely. He laughs heartily, clambering up onto his seat on the Soldier’s hips once more.
“Relax, hoss. I ain’t gon do that to yer.” As a sign of piece, he kisses his brows lovingly.
“But I do have sum other plans for yer.”
Lifting his gaze, he sees anger, uncertainty and curiosity battling on his features, and it seemed like curiosity was winning. Dell leaned forward and unhooked the old wide-brimmed hat that once belonged to Pop’s and now adorned the wall above the bed. “Now.” The tinkerer plopped it down on his noggin, tipping it back. “A little birdy told me this here Soldier is into cowboys.”
Soldier’s cheek flushed an alarmingly red color, gawking up at him in disbelief. “W-WHO!? What feathery MAGGOT dared to –?!“
When the Commando realized his own words, he snapped his jaw shut, eyes darting away with embarrassment. Gosh. It takes all of Dell willpower not to kiss him stupid in this moment.
“You know nothing, Private gear-pants!” he grits out instead.
“Well. I do know that every cowboy needs himself a steed if he wants ta call himself a proper cowboy.” Dell shuffles a little until he finds what he’s looking for – giving the Soldier’s firmness a few teasing tugs, before he lets his own manhood rock against his, dragging himself along Soldier’s shaft.
“And would’ya lookit that. I jus’ happen ta catch mahself sum mighty fine stallion.”
Soldier squirmed beneath him, growling and huffing, tugging uselessly against his restrains. The headboard groaned under his attempts at freeing his hand. Quite obviously growing frustrated at the lack of power in this position, and not being able to touch the Texan.
“Y-You will - nnph!” Soldier gulped. “You will not liken me to one of these long-haired hippie donkeys!”
“Aw. But yer quite similar, actually, y’know?” Dell whispered against his ear shell, and then kissed the skin beneath. “Strong,” he says, kissing and lapping at his neck. “Loyal”, a kiss on his clavicles. “Tough.” He kisses one of Soldier’s nipples, and feels the man stir beneath him, and he pauses. He does it again, just to be sure, flicking his tongue against his other nipple. And sure enough, the man beneath him flinches, hands pulling at the metal rod, a gasp tumbling from his lips. Oh?
Dell takes extra time, mouthing, kissing, teasingly nibbling at the pink, sensitive skin, intently listening to Soldier’s grunts turning to frustrated little whines, hands clenching into fists, legs pushing into the mattress. “Sensitive,” Dell grins.
“I-I am NOT …” but the military man is powerless against those titillations of pleasure every time his chest is fondled.
“Playful,” Dell continues kissing down the man’s abdominal muscles to his bellybutton, watching his body fold slightly as his warm breath tickles over Soldier’s stomach. He kisses his hip and abdomen. “Headstrong.”
“Engie…”
“Cocksure.”
Soldier gnashed his teeth as the tip of his manhood is given another drag of Dell’s tongue, followed by a deep suck. The headboard groaned dangerously at that, and Dell knew he was playing with fire now. Better get to work quickly then.
He opened the drawer of the nightstand and fished out the little tub of Vaseline he had purchased when they had arrived here. Thank god for my foresight, he congratulates himself in silence and with a small, self-satisfied smile, made wider when he reviews his work beneath his legs. Thoroughly out of breath, shuddering and blushing, Soldier squirmed beneath him, watching him through clouded, but alert eyes. And more than ready.
“Yer a mighty fine stallion indeed, mister.” Dell said. Fingers coated thoroughly in translucent gel he went to work on himself. “And yer all mine.”
They kiss, deeply, passionately, fingers stretching his body to accommodate the veteran’s size, and when he thinks he’s ready, he lubes the man beneath him up as well. Soldier barely has the time to even ask him what he is doing, let alone protest, as just moments later the Texan mutters: “Time ta giddy-up,” and sinks down onto him.
Oh, lord above.
This was certainly different from the last few times, when it had been hurried, dry and painful at first. Not so much now. Thank every god out there for my darn good foresight, Dell thinks again as he bottoms out with surprising ease. Even the Soldier notices it. His eyes popped out of his skull, suddenly rigid beneath him, staring at him in utter surprise. No doubt he had anticipated similar sensations of discomfort and pain upon connection as well, and now was flabbergasted that the exact opposite was happening.
Both utter a deep sigh when they have accustomed to each other, marveling at how easy this was, and how good it felt as well. And then, both hiss as Dell begins rolling his hips. Slowly at first, then, gradually, faster.
“Good horsey.” He murmurs breathlessly, petting the Soldier’s pecs.
“Nngh, you …you have no right to …I …” but then words no longer seemed possible for the Soldier, only gruff noises tumbling from his chest coupled with the creak of the bedsprings. And as Dell picked up the pace, the sound of skin meeting skin and his own, breathless noises of pleasure filled the room. It was almost offensive how well their bodies fit together, how in tune they found each other so quickly. Like a well-oiled machine, one cog turning and the other following, circuit boards buzzing, cables connecting …
Beautiful, he thinks.
From experience, he knew when he tilted his hips just right, he would find – oh. Oh yes, he found it. That spot inside him that send dizzying pleasure into his limbs and his head, making his body go taut and in turn clench around the Commando’s manhood.
He leaned down and found all the right spots and buttons to push on the rocketman’s body – fingers carding through his short dirt-blonde hair. Nibbling at his neck. Dragging his thumb along his nipple. Relishing in the stuttering breaths and strained moans tumbling from between Soldier’s clenched teeth, tasting the salt of his skin and drinking in the scent of his spicy aftershave and feeling his cock pulse and throb in tune with the roll of his hips. Beautiful, he thinks again.
And very soon, Dell’s slow and methodical love-making proved too slow and methodical for the Soldier. He keened beneath him with every pet, every kiss, legs trembling and pushing, attempting to rock his hips up and lead the pace. A surprised gasp tumbled from Dell, nearly falling off of him at the sudden onslaught of powerful upwards thrusts, rough, quick and threatening to be his undoing with how rigorously his weak spot was assaulted. His legs were already going soft as rubber, blinking hard against the haze of pleasure fogging his mind. Keep it together, Conagher.
“Tryna buck me off?” Dell laughed, holding onto his cowboy hat.
“Y-You are … s-slower than my grandmother!” Soldier grit out, slowing down to speak. “And she’s DEAD! Untie me, and I’ll SHOW YOU –!“
Dell plops himself down upon him – and halts. Sweet torture for the Soldier, he could tell from the way the man growled and pulled at his restrains, cock throbbing angrily inside him. Even Dell’s body howled with discontent, every fiber inside him wanting to continue.
“Show me what?” he asks, teasingly.
“Grrr!!” Soldier bucked even more fervently now, trying his hardest to find that sweet friction again. But Dell tightened his thighs around him and made all movements now impossible for the Commando. “You …little … sniveling…!”
He could read it in his eyes: How dare this man bring him pleasures the likes he’d never experienced in his life and then STOP?!
Soldier growled, he foamed, he raged beneath him, trying everything in his powers to take over, to push, to thrust up and into him, to try and coax the little Engineer above him to just. Goddamn. MOVE! And Dell would’ve complied – if only this jarhead hadn’t gone and challenged him. You caught them horns now, Soldier-boy.
“Show me what, pardner?” Dell murmured against his lips.
He almost had him, Dell knew, placing a hand on that cable. The iron bars groaned, he could see they had even bend outward slightly. Darn. He knew if the man pulled any harder now, either the entire headboard came off or Soldier’s wrists would cave in. The tinkerer would not let either scenario happen. Better admit defeat quick now, rocketman!
Dell takes Soldier’s lip between his teeth and nibbles, playfully tugs at it, and then flexes his legs – squeezing the man below him.
And then finally, Soldier pushed his head back into the cushions, eyes shut tightly. A desperate whine falling from his lips, teeth creaking with how hard the Soldier was clenching his jaw.
“Please.”
Not exactly three seconds, like he had promised. But it was more than enough for the Texan.
One quick, dexterous flick of Dell’s hand, and the cable unraveled. Before he could even so much as say anything, he was grabbed, and with a startled yelp, flung onto the mattress. Dizziness did not even leave his brain before he was pulled into a crushing hug, a set of teeth digging into his shoulder, a deep, angry, yet triumphant snarl shuddering down his ear canal – followed by the Soldier’s hips pounding down and into him with the force of industrial machinery. It’s breathtaking, causing Dell to shout in surprise, and then in fervent passion, mixed with the noise of the headboard slamming into the wall, the bedsprings groaning, the floor creaking dangerously. He would’ve worried about Soldier breaking the bed – but that thought was far, far away, drowned by their shared shameless groaning and cursing, stammering each other’s names in awe and desire, the sharp slap of skin on skin, the sting of Soldier’s teeth digging down into his shoulder.
Dell barely manages to push a hand between them both, stroking himself with shaky fingers, one, two, three times, guided by the Soldier’s merciless assault on Dell’s weak spot, his limbs taut, his body throbbing – and then it overwhelms him, head falling back into the pillows caught on a toneless syllable, his cowboy hat tumbling off the bed. White, mind-numbing, shuddering pleasure rakes through his body, into his limbs and his head, tuning everything out around him, even his own moans of ecstasy – except for the Soldier’s deep, agitated panting, some unintelligible words that might’ve been a warning or a curse, or Dell’s name, until it all melts into mindless, overpowered, desperate groaning, pushed into the mattress below, next to Dell’s ear, the Commando’s hips stuttering, slamming into him once, twice, three times more, buried deeply within him, shooting the evidence of his release inside him.
Dell doesn’t know how long he’s been out. But when consciousness slowly rteurns to his head it’s to the sound of his own breathless panting and the pleasant throbbing inside his limbs, fingers running along cropped hair, the scar on Soldier’s nape and Soldier’s face buried in the crook of his neck.
It takes a while for them to come around. But by the time both were presentable again, the sun had set, the murky star-spangled darkness stretching across the sky. They don’t speak, there was nothing that needed to be urgently discussed, nothing to be mentioned, to be corrected, to rationalize, to set straight or to apologize for - Just the quiet, mutual agreement that they did not need words to express their contentment in each other’s presence.
Soldier sits on the patio, Lieutenant Bites curled on his lap, seated in one of the old rocking chairs where Dell’s grandmother used to sit with her needles in hand. The gout had taken her ability to walk much, thus tying her to this place, hands always knitting on something, staring off into the golden pastures.
Like many things around here, that chair had not been used for many, many years. Until Soldier came along.
He joins him, a cup of tea in both hands, and with a smile, he sits himself into the chair next to the Soldier.
They glance out into the pastures, the golden gleam now muted by the night sky. They listen to the crickets in the grass, the occasional mooing from the farm across, a loon wailing softly from the lake. Turn their heads when a light flicks on in one of the houses in the distance. When they both glance down at the small hovel where Ol’ Joel lives, watching the last light turning off, Dell realized he had not even told the old man about Soldier returning. Just too busy not being able to keep my hands off of him, he thinks, a little sheepishly.
Somewhat unbidden, the memory of their last conversation returned to his mind. About Soldier’s reasons for running off. ‘Maybe he’s realized he’s in too deep as well.’
At the time, that had been a terrifying idea, and a reasonable assumption perhaps. Now, all he could do was smile to himself – If not the fact that Soldier had returned on his own volition, then the confession from this morning all but confirmed it. ‘I missed you.’
“Yer not mad at me, are ya?” he asks him.
The Soldier turns his head, helmet swaying. “Unless you have been a cloak-turning FRENCH this entire time we have been here,“ he said, gruffly. “I have NO reason to be mad at you.”
“Nah, ain’t nuthin’ like that.” Dell laughed. “Jus’ … ah, forget it.”
“Forget what?” now he had attracted the Soldier’s attention, and he knew he’d not be able to shake him off. Heck. Speaking before thinking yet again, Conagher. He’d have to face this now. And so, he turned in his seat, glancing at the man.
“Yer not mad I ain’t no woman, right?”
The Soldier stared at him blankly.“…What kind of question is THAT?” he asks, candidly and wearily. “What are you driving at?”
“Ah, well, y’know,” Dell shrugs slowly, exhaling in a sigh. “They say a man’s life ain’t truly fulfilled until he’s married his local sweetheart n’ brought some kids into the world.”
Now that he said it out loud, he realized how silly this line of thinking was. He’s right. What ARE you driving at, Conagher? Was this some sort of last open door Dell was pointing the Soldier to, one last chance to give the man next to him a way out of this? Out of this life?
He’s never given you any reason to think this way, Dell tells himself. Not once. He’s never mentioned a special someone, male or female. Never uttered any plans or wishes about finding a wife, starting a family.
“No idea what pacifistic BOLSHEVIST funneled that HORSE-CRAP into your mind, hardhat, but if I find him I will BREAK his hippie neck!” Soldier puffed his chest out. “You want to know what TRUE FULFILLMENT IS? A man’s life is to pick up his guns, FIGHTING for his freedom and the freedom of his country! THAT is what true fulfillment means! We are Soldiers, Private. The battlefield is our marriage bed, the only vows WE make are the vows of protection for our homeland. LADY LIBERTY is the ONLY woman we should ever be bound to. And the ONLY sons we father are the fruits of our labor, the constitutional right of every American out there to eat as MANY RIBS and beat up as MANY HIPPIES as they wish to!”
Soldier salutes into the emptiness of the night.
But Dell just glances at him. Smiling. Yeah. He should’ve figured he’d reply this way. And should the Solider ask HIM that same question, Dell would’ve just laughed. How could I ever return to a life of such mundanity when I have him around?
And then, he finally knows it’s time.
Dell’s hand slides from his leg to Soldier’s. The military man paused petting the animal, lowering his salute, eyes glancing at Dell’s fingers. Then up his arm. Until he was looking at him.
“Sal,” Dell says. “When our contracts end, god knows when that happens … I want ya ta know that …I want ya ta know that you’ll always have this here place ta return to. You n’ Lieut’ Bites.”
The man says nothing. His lips part, just slightly, the only visible expression underneath that helmet. “You suggest we set up base here?” he asked.
“Would ya like that?”
He seems to think this question over. “They make some excellent mashed potatoes down here.” he said after a while. “And the only disgusting free-love and anti-war rhetoric-spreading maggots around are ANIMALS.”
It takes all of Dell’s resolve not to laugh at his line of thinking. These two things seemed quite high on the Soldier’s list of priorities when pursuing happiness.
“Lieutenant Bites likes it here, too.” Soldier cards his fingers through the critter’s fur. “The trash here seems more bountiful than whatever GARBAGE-trash they discard in Teufort.” He smiled then. “The only thing MISSING would be a gravel pit. AND some RED bastards to beat into the dirt!”
And that, unfortunately, was something Dell could not give him. No matter how much money he had.
“Y’know, been thinkin’. We could turn the compound into another raccoon sanctuary. Bet lil’ ol’ Lieut Bites would love ta have sum playmates.” Dell shrugged, gently petting Soldier’s knee. “Heh. Unless y’all wanna continue rodeo-ridin’. Could buy ya a bull.”
He doesn’t know if he said something wrong. Because the Commando snaps his attention away from the raccoon and his eyes scanned the landscape instead, the house. Then, the sky above. Then down at his boots.
“I … I could buy the plot ‘a land next to us, turn it into yer own personal rocket-jumpin’ place, if y’all end up missin’ it.” Dell adds, nervously.
He will not just miss rocket-jumping you darn idiot – he will miss killing people. He will miss his war, his weapons, his adrenaline rush, his head collection, he’ll miss capturing points and kidnapping intelligences. How could I ever give him that?
He wonders if it was crushing disappointment that rattled the Soldier’s disposition. Or perhaps the clarity of the situation just hit the Soldier with full force– when their contracts ended. No more war. No more fighting. What is a Soldier without a war?
“I ah … forgive me, Sal. Didn’t mean ta overwhelm ya.”
“OverWHELM me?” Soldier stand suddenly. “Son, you are suggesting that I return to the battlefield and leave YOUR SORRY ASS behind - and you ask me if I am OVERWHELMED?”
Return to the battlefield?
“Sal, I mean if the contracts end, there ain’t gonna –“
“A CONTRACT doesn’t END the war, rodeo-princess!” Soldier argued. “THE LAST MAN STANDING ends the war! And I shall CONTINUE fighting it until the very end – and even THEN I will continue fighting! You THINK a silly contract could keep ME away from my duty? Maybe YOU, but not ME!”
Shoulda figured he’d not just magically turn into a homebody the moment they were no longer contracted by Mann CO., he thinks. Who knows – mercenaries were hard to come by these days. Especially such loyal ones as Soldier. Could be they would keep him around a while longer …
“Do you THINK a slip of paper CONCERNS ME? It does NOT!” he puffed his chest out. “WHAT concerns me is YOU, being on your own out here, surrounded by communist-friendly HORSES and possibly SPIES, without ME to look out for you!”
It takes him a moment or two until he realizes what the Soldier is saying here. And when he does, his heart wrenches and he chuckles to get though that sudden wave of emotions brewing inside him,
“Shucks Sal, y’all wouldn’t need ta worry ‘bout me. I can take care of mahself jus’ fine.”
“No, you CANNOT! May I REMIND YOU that without me, you’d be either PUNCHED TO DEATH by a Yeti, bled out already, EATEN ALIVE by alligators or squished to MUSH by some hornless cows!?”
He did not forget it – how could he ever? Even aside the fact that most of these circumstances were directly influenced by the man in front of him.
Dell grinned. “Now, hoss. Dun ya go n’ suggest I’m sum damsel in distress. This here cowboy can carry his weight jus’ fine.”
“BAH! You couldn’t carry a wet paper bag!” Soldier bellowed passionately. “I have SEEN what you do when I’m not around – you lock yourself into your house, you don’t speak to anyone or eat or sleep! ALL you do is drink and CRY! And you want ME to go out there and fight and leave YOU on your own?”
The grin melts from Dell’s face at an instant.
“You … y’all saw me?”
Soldier opened his mouth and snapped it close again – all but confirming Dell’s question. Must’ve seen me when he went out fishing. Saw the way he was slumped in one of the kitchen chairs, drunk, lamenting the loss of the Commando. It threatens to choke him up.
With a sigh, Dell stands, too.
“Soldier, listen,” he says. “I understand fightin' is what yer best at, but ...”
“If fighting is sure to result in victory then you MUST FIGHT, hardhat!” Soldier nodded, hands folded behind his lower back. “Absolutely NO excuse, Private gear-pants! I have made an oath to our country, to PROTECT IT, to LOVE and CHERISH IT, to bring FREEDOM upon our turf, to SECURE its independence! AND …” and Soldier’s pursed his lips. “I promised Ol’ Joel to keep you safe, as well. I cannot …” he pauses. Then, he stomps his boot. “I CANNOT default on my vows! NOTHING and NO ONE can change that.”
Dell ran his hand along his face. “Ya really mean it, hm?”
The Soldier doesn’t reply. Once Dell’s gaze returned to the man, he could tell he was waiting for the shorter man’s answer – or, more likely, for his objection. To not go back into the gravel pits. To not pick up a weapon again. To not leave him alone out here.
Or, even worse, to put an ultimatum on him.
It’s me or your war games.
When their eyes met, he could see the resolve on Soldier's face, but somehow he wondered if it was a disguise to hide another emotion deep inside him. Anxiety perhaps. Fear of how the tinkerer would reply. Negatively, by the looks of Soldier's slightly grinding jaw, a telltale sign that the military man was awaiting a neggative reaction from the other.
Of course, Dell had hoped life would significantly mellow down when in retirement. Spending the rest of his life waking up to the gentle tickle of sunlight, watching the combines and tractors in the distance, freely tinkering again after ages, his own little projects. Easy-going. Quiet. Peaceful.
Three words that would never go hand in hand with Soldier's lifestyle. And honestly, Dell wouldn't have it any other way.
He needs his war. He needs his fights and brawls. And, at the end of the day, when blood was shed and tiredness settled into his bones, this door, the very same which Soldier had broken down on their first day - it would always be open for him, Welcoming him back.
Dell walks up to him, stands on his tiptoes and pressed his lips to his, silencing all those doubts brewing under that helmet of his. They stay this way for a moment or two, Dell holding his face in his hands, lips moving against one another, slowly. Gently. When he draws away, Soldier looks confused.
“Hey now,” he petted his jawline. “What’s with that long face, pardner?”
" ...I EXPECTED you to –“
“Me ta be mad? No.” Dell nuzzled his neck. “Honestly, I had expected somethin' like this."
There was a pause between them, Soldier looking even more confused - or perhaps guilty. The tinkerer cupped his face.
"Listen. Wherever life takes ya, war or not, nothin's gonna make me change mah promise to ya - no Spahs, no animals, no war and no goshdarn RED's ever gon' do that. I ain't ever gonna leave yer behind again. Remember?"
Soldier nodded, slowly. Hope open on his face. "Does that mean you will return to the Gravelpits with me?"
Engie grinned. He imagined it - The last two men standing, fighting against whatever would be left of RED by that time. Or fighting other mercenaries. Fighting a pointless war, until they were old and gray, and even then continuing to fight, stuck in wheelchairs or bend over canes. IIt would be ridiculous, and it would be glorious. As long as it wouldn't be any more robots ...
"Well, I'mma try, right? Can't promise ta be always right at y'alls side. But when this ol' Engineer ain't, well - then I’ll be waitin’ for ya, right here. On this here patio."
He draws him in for an embrace. Resting his head against Soldier's shoulder.
"It’s jus’ like I told ya,” Dell places his hand over the Commando’s fluttering heart. “This here place is ya home, too.”
Chapter 19: Interlude II: Eat your Young
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A Soldier doesn’t dream.
But when he does, it’s of snow.
Knee-deep snow. Snow that swallows everything around him. Trees, houses, riverbanks, people. The soil below.
They called it ‘scorched earth’, yet the cold was biting worse than any fire could burn. Some kid is next to him, not speaking a lick of English, breathing shallowly. There’s a wet gurgle each time he inhales. He’s dying, Soldier knows. He sees the large gaping maw that had opened there, in the kid’s stomach. Grinning a wet, red, steaming smile at him whenever he turns his face.
His own hands were sticky with drying blood, crimson dirt under his fingernails. He had stuffed fifteen feet of intestines back into the kid’s body and covered him with the furs he had taken from abandoned huts littering this rural country side, but the kid is still shuddering and chattering with his teeth.
At the beginning, he had yelled, the way Daddy yelled, loud and boisterous until his vocal cords were aching, yelling at that stupid kid to stop screaming and to take his disembowelment like a darn man!
Then he had promised he’d get him out of this ditch. To bring him to the nearest medic.
Then he had promised him medals, each and every one of them, if they made it out of here.
And if only he stopped making these noises.
Those whimpering, gurgling noises. Telling him to shut up did nothing. Threatening him to tear out his tongue did nothing. Heck, the kid was some backwater Slavic partisan, abandoned by his troops, that just continued blabbering those wet, alien vowels at him when all he wants is for him to just … be quiet.
Die, he thinks now. Please. Just die already.
There’s a shot, not far from the trench he dug himself, and it buries deep into the snow and soil, he feels lumps of snow and dirt falling down onto his helmet.
His helmet.
He had it since he was a child. It never fit him properly, always too large, always covering his eyes. Daddy laughed at him when he put it on. “That helmet won’t protect you forever, you know son?” he sneered, the many medals gleaming in the sunlight, there on his coat. It was a painfully bright light in his eyes.
“Coward,” his father called him.
But he was not a coward. And it did protect him! It hid the bruises. It kept the punches of the bigger, stronger kids at school at bay.
He put the helmet on when his head was droning again. It hurt a lot and his sight went funny when it happened. Everything was blurry and throbbing.
It happened often: Whenever Daddy was very mad, he ‘taught his son a lesson.’
He just didn’t understand why his head always hurt when Daddy taught him. Why there was blood sometimes, on his temple, on his hairline, his cheek. Why Daddy laughed when he lost another tooth. He stands in the corn fields around his old shabby home, blood drippling from his nose, he’s unsteady on his feet again. The American flag flutters wildly in the wind, erected proudly on their roof.
His head is hurting again. But the helmet is sturdy and protects him. It always protected him.
“Jane.” Mommy calls him through the opened window, but that’s not his name. It’s the name of the girl Mommy had wished for so desperately. Sometimes, when she made him wear the dresses she knitted, just for him, and Daddy found out, he taught her lessons as well.
“You will not turn my son into a faggot!” Daddy yelled at her.
One day, when Daddy gives him a very hard lesson and strikes him across the back of his head with the sharp side of his cane and more blood seeps down his back and into his cotton shirt, he simply forgot what his real name was.
Fingers brush against the scar on his nape. Gentler than any touch he’d ever experienced. “Ah jeez. That looks painful.” A voice says. “On yer nape, dummy.” A deep, soothing, warm voice he knows deep in his heart, yet unable to pinpoint. The hair on his neck stand up.
“Jane” says the voice of his mother and he looks down at that kid in the muddy snow next to him. His skin is grey. His eyes are dull and staring up in the sky, not blinking. He had never seen a man sleep with his eyes open until now.
At least he stopped making those noises now.
A Soldier is seventeen. Just barely a man. Desperately chasing that golden gleam proudly pinned to Daddy’s coat. Medals in all forms and shapes and colors.
He was send to his first mustering a year ago. It’s what every male Doe in his family did on their sixteenth birthday.
He knows he will be accepted. He is in pique physical condition. He follows orders to the T. He’s loyal, to both his comrades and his fatherland. Every good Soldier is.
‘There’s war out there, son. Whole of Europe is filled to the brim with those crazy Nazi-Jerrys.’ the recruiter said to him. What better time for a Doe to prove himself in combat? Daddy served in the first war. Came home a changed man, Mommy used to say. Lost an eye. Lost a leg. Lost his mind out there, too, Mommy said. Yet returned with pride, with his life, and with seemingly every medal ever forged.
His life will not go down this path, he finds out that day. There’s not much he remembers from the day he is sat down by the recruiters, clipboards in their hands. The man speaks and it’s like a blur.
'Brain damage’, they said. ‘Unpredictable behavior’, they said.
He is rejected, but that doesn’t stop a Soldier. A Soldier belongs in the military, and so, he undergoes the same mustering procedure five more times.
‘Brain damage,’ they said. He doesn’t understand. Damages can be fixed, right? They could repair his brain, right?
He stands at the airport, the helmet seated on top of his head, firmly, averting his eyes from the curious stares he receives. Averts his eyes from the people around him, whispering.
There’s nothing we can do, they said to him.
He sits in the only airplane that dares to fly out there into the chaos of war-riddled Europe. Some things cannot be fixed, son.
He kills his first man out there. He cannot tell if he had been a Nazi. Most likely though, right? That’s what he came here to do, right? They told him all of Europe was filled with these scum-sucking foes to the American freedom and democracy – so why take any chances?
It was harder than he expected. All those war stories out there couldn’t prepare him for seeing his first dying man, screaming for hours, instead of just falling down dead like they did in the movies. The second one was easier. From there on out, killing just became easier and easier. He kills many. Many people in uniform, with guns and helmets on their own. But he also killed those that hid under the guise of civilians. Cowards, disguising themselves as women and children, pleading to him in their strange, gruff languages he doesn’t understand. But they were Nazis, he knew they were. They HAD to be. There’s war out there, son.
“Jane.” The boy next to him speaks. He’s still staring up in the gray, cloudless sky. A Soldier peeks his head over the rim of the trench he had dug with his shovel. There’s a sudden thud, a dull pain, a sharp clinking noise. His helmet sways. He moves his finger up there and feels the indention and the shrapnel of a bullet.
“It’s time I teach you a lesson, son!” He hears Daddy call from across the trench.
He knows he should duck. That helmet saved him from most of Daddy’s strikes, but not all of them. He feels the back of his head, stinging, as the ghost of Daddy’s cane strikes him there again.
But he simply cannot move.
He sees nothing out there but the silver white of the snow. Hears nothing but the boy next to him, speaking his name.
“Jane. Jane. Jane.”
“Be quiet!!” he kicks him, yet the kid gave no reaction. He’s fast asleep, eyes wide open and pale, mouth agape and red.
“Daddy will hear us!”
Why, oh why would this darn maggot just not die already?!
There’s another shot just inches away from his head.
It shrieks against the iron of his helmet. And all drilled-in self-discipline goes flying out the window. He runs. The Soldier in him flees, reducing him down to the small boy again, with that oversized helmet on his head, eyes blurry, head throbbing, stumbling over his own, short legs and feet.
“Time I teach you a lesson, son!”
He runs, mud and snow, doesn’t stop when his lungs burn like fire. How can snow burn like fire, he thinks desperately.
The trench ends so suddenly he almost crashes into it. The walls around him frozen slick. He’d have to dig to get out of here, and when he grabs for his shovel, it’s not there.
“Teach you a lesson, son!”
The voice echoes above him. He looks up, and there it was. Shovel looks down on him. Grins at him the way daddy grinned at him. One silver eye. It screeches at him in Daddy’s voice, expletives and curses, all those words that crush a man on the inside.
“A lesson, son!”
He begins digging with his bare fingers, blind desperation taking entirely hold of him. His fingers split open, coating the snow red. Red like fire. Like the fire burning in his lungs and eyes.
“A lesson, son!”
And then, where deafening, mind-numbing silence had been before, a cacophony of voices shriek down upon the lone Soldier. The cruel laughter of his peers at school. The droning in his head. Daddy’s yelling. Mommy singing to him. The sound of weapons firing, bullets shooting, the wails and cries of people dying and yelling out for their mama’s, his own shouts of pain, Polish propaganda pamphlets that suggested starving families to eat their young, the bloodcurdling screech of air sirens, the screams of women and children, blood splattering to the ground, sizzling, bubbling and he realizes its his own blood, and then the soil around him comes loose and it collapses, and he’s threatened to be buried alive in his own trenches, shovel wailing with delight, and above everything his own name.
‘Jane. Jane. Jane.'
'Jane …?’
“Jane?”
He startles awake. He’s panting, sweat beading down his face. In the corner of his eyes, the silver of the snow linger, the red of his own blood. The polish kid dying was lying next to him, the scent of freshly dug soil around him. A hand touches him. He startles, fearing to see that kid, still alive, still babbling at him in his foreign tongue for help, for mercy, for anything – but it’s not the kid.
He sees green eyes, soft still from sleep, brows furrowed low on his face in worry. Sloppily shaven stubbles peppering his jawline, short sandy hair ...
It’s him. The Engineer.
Dell, he remembers. His name is Dell …
And it’s not snow, but the silver moonlight shining through the window, and it’s not blood, but the red curtains, adorned with flowers patterns. It’s the scent of horses and hay, not soil. And he is not in the trenches anymore. And he is not in Europe anymore. It melts around him like ice cream on a hot day, revealing the here and now to him underneath that layer of silver paint...
“Hey, hey. Shh. It’s alright.”
Gentle, gentle hands touch him. So gentle it’s almost more painful than any strikes or punches or gunshots, taking hold of his arm, rubbing along his back.
His eyes scan the bedroom. There is no sight of shovel. Not the hint of his voice to be heard above the soft, melancholic wailing of the loons by the lake and the nightingales in the distance. It’s the first time in three months that the Soldier realized that he had not taken his most precious weapon with him. His shotgun rested against the closet. His army boots were downstairs, polished as always. His bandolier and ammunition belt hung on the wall, next to Dell’s coat. His helmet sat on the nightstand.
But shovel? The only weapon in his arsenal that could communicate to him, that screeched and yelled and hissed at him, calling him names and curses at him in that gruff, alcohol-roughened voice of his father…
He had not taken it with him.
“Jus’ a nightmare.” Dell’s soft, warm voice mixes with the chirping of the crickets, a familiar tone drawing him out of the remnants of his dreams. ”Sal, it’s alright. Jus’ a nightmare …” Feels fingers, carding into his hair, touching the scar on his nape.
Sal.
Soldier.
“I …I’m not …”
He swallows thickly. It feels like he’s being strangled.
“Yer not what?”
Fingers curling into the duvet, clenching tightly, fighting against that wave of …emotions. Such intense emotions he’s not felt in ages. Or ever.
“I’m not a real … I’m not really a … I’m …I was never accepted in the …I’m just a …”
A fraud? An imposter?
A civilian?
He feels Dell’s hands slow down until they were at a halt. No. THIS hurt more than any strikes or punches or gunshot. He cannot look at him. He cannot bear looking up and seeing the betrayal in his Private’s eyes. ‘Some things cannot be fixed, son.’
Is this why the Soldier felt so drawn to the mechanic ever since they joined Mann Co.? Had he hoped he, the smartest man Soldier knew, maybe even the smartest man alive, could fix those things that couldn’t be fixed?
For the first time in a long while, maybe ever, something stirs inside him.
Fear. A Soldier doesn't fear. A Soldier doesn't fear ANYTHING.
And yet, it is here, with him in this bed, feels it claw at his eyes. Shuddering down his spine, along his limbs.
There were no protocols, no codex of honor that would aid him in how to proceed now. No principles of loyalty or grace, no code words, no orders to give and receive. The Arts of War did not prepare one for this conflict. No wise war-veteran’s philosophies to follow. Not even weapons could guide him out of this. Not even his helmet could protect him from this.
How do you fight a battle when the battle was inside?
As it turns out, though, he doesn’t need any of that.
Instead of drawing away from him, instead of being greeted by open disappointment or disgust at years of fraudulently calling himself a Soldier, fraudulently acting like one …
“C’mere.”
Arms wrap around him, strong arms. Gentle arms. The only arms the Soldier had ever fallen willingly into. He is pressed gently into Dell’s warm skin, the soft cotton of his wife beater, face turned into the crook of his neck as the tinkerer lowers them down into the sheets again.
“I dun’ care what ya are or what y’all are not.” He hears him whisper into his ear, strong fingers petting the short trimmed hair on his head, running up and down his spine. “Yer the real deal ta me.”
He doesn’t know how long he lies there in the Engineer’s arms, staring blankly at the adjacent wall. Being tenderly petted and kissed, an attempt at comforting and soothing him back into sleep. At first, the Soldier trembles terribly in their embrace. Shuddering so hard the bed shudders with him. But even then, Dell doesn’t stop or let go, just holding him tighter.
He knows that Dell succumbs to slumber before him. Even in his sleep his hands run along the Soldier’s skin, soft snores rumbling from his chest. He’s afraid, Soldier realizes. Afraid to close his eyes and return to the trenches. Return to that old shag that used to be his childhood home. Return to the snow.
But he doesn’t. He wouldn’t for a long, long while to come. When he closes his eyes and sleep finds him as well, all he finds in his dreams are gentle words greeting him, the scent of horses and wheat and dust and the dim lights in Dell’s workshop. Blustreak beer on his tongue. The strumming of a guitar. Yellow hardhats and blue overalls …
Notes:
Congratulations, you've made it through the last chapter of angst in this fanfic.
Chapter 20: Saying Goodbye
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Two-fort had never been his favorite place. Everything was too narrow, too hot on his skin. Too bright, and even when it rained, there was always a crack in the clouds from which the sun burned down mercilessly on him.
And nothing had changed since they had left. That pile of hay was still there in the corner. Scout was still eager as ever to get started, perhaps a tad too eager, jumping straight into a mob of blood-thirsty RED’s. The sound of battle still echoed across the compound and the surrounding corn fields.
It’s a piece of home, perhaps. One of many pieces, scattered across the parcels of Mann Co. owned land.
Well, no. That wasn’t true. Not anymore, at least. Not since Texas.
In the Engineer’s heart, there now resided only one true home.
He had awoken a week ago, tickled awake by the gentle yellow sun shining through the cracks in the red curtains. It had been one of the few occasions where Dell awoke before the man next to him, still deep in slumber, gentle blues moving slowly underneath his eyelids. He wondered what the Soldier was dreaming about…
He’d stretched, got dressed. Brewed coffee. Fed Lieut’ Bites – then the other raccoons. Twelve in total now roamed the Conagher farm, all new recruits in Lieutenant Bites and Soldier’s little army. Well, thirteen actually, since yesterday. The pup was the splitting image of Lieutenant Bites, gnawing at everything that came too close to its little toothless muzzle, chirping and crying for milk constantly.
“Should call ‘em Private Nibbles.” Dell suggested.
“We should call him Private Crybaby, if ANYTHING!” Soldier had argued.
He combed Private’s fur. Watered him. Then he checked on the hives. Three dozen furry little striped bees buzzed lazily around him, some returning covered from head to toe in yellow pollen.
Gotta buy more jars, Dell realized taking one glance inside the boxes. They’d have more than enough honey to last them the rest of the year. Soldier will be very pleased.
The mailman always flinched when Dell greeted him. Eyes bulging and glancing around, scared the military man would be lurking somewhere close by, ready to pounce him. Again. Despite Dell’s warnings, Soldier was drawn to those poor guys, like a dog drawn to the hems of mailmen’s legs.
Dell opened the mailbox. Bills. As usual. A church pamphlet. It had taken Dell a while to warm up to the idea. Yet, in a way, he found himself always returning to that small, local chapel. Not necessarily to pray, or to listen to a sermon. He doubted he could keep Soldier to sit there quietly for an hour and not get bored out of his mind.
Sometimes he just folded his hands, closed his eyes and sighed.
‘Thank you. For keeping him safe. For bringing him back.’
Dell returned to the house, ready to toss the letters onto the table and perhaps enjoy a few more minutes of rest before Soldier would toss him out of the sheets and drag him out by his feet to start their morning exercises.
That was, until he arrived at the last letter. Two letters, actually. There was no name, no indication of a sender, no address either. Just the large stamp in blue ink, stapled on the back of it.
Mann. Co.
They came eight months later than Dell had expected them. And without opening them, he knew exactly what they said.
“Time ta git back ta work.” The Engineer sighed. The toolboxes were still as heavy as ever, a familiar weight on his shoulder. He still knew where he’d deposit them, just at the right spot that would ensure the intelligence room to be safe and protected from any Scouts.
“Doon’ forgit the teleporter!” The Demoman told him. It wasn’t the first time someone ‘reminded him’ of setting up his gear. Likely, they reckoned that being away from battle for eight months could make the Engineer ‘forget’ what his job entailed. The Texan sighed.
“Yeah yeah. C’mon mister, git!”
Leaving the Conagher farm was not easy. It was, as a matter of fact, harder than the first time Dell left home. So much harder.
Ol’ Joel promised he’d take good care of the critters and the horse, and there was no doubt in his mind that the old man would stick to his words.
But how do you leave a place that had been dead in your mind for years, then suddenly came back alive – and now you’d have to abandon it once more. For god knows how long. The possibility that they’d never return there was there. Mann Co could very well keep them up and running until nothing was left of them.
A blue suit materialized next to him. The Engineer raised his glance from his toolboxes to the slender figure of the French, freshly spawned in. The man did not look at him. Did not drop a snarky remark at him either. The mask hid most of the damage the mechanic had inflicted upon him – permanent damage, Miss Pauling had told him – but there was no hiding the silent, quiet terror in those silver grey eyes, the tension emanating from him as their paths crossed.
For the first time in ages it seemed, the skin on Engie’s throat itched. There, where a white scar now ran across his jugular.
They wouldn’t speak about the incident. As a matter of fact, the two of them would not be found alone in each other’s presence for the foreseeable future. He would not miss it.
Not like the tinkerer hadn’t had enough trouble with one Spook at his heels already.
The man vanished, and in its place, familiar jungleboots popped up. The Soldier shook himself like a wet dog, straps flopping around.
“Lemme guess,” Engie chuckled. “Sniper this time?”
“Grr.” Soldier raised his hackles. “This little nancified city boy.”
Scout got him? Hoo-wee, he thought. Better get set up now. The Engineer patted his shoulder.
“Y’all git him next time.”
Texas had been good upon him, he could tell. He looked livelier, happier, full of energy. Skin tanner now, spending hours upon hours at the compound in the sun, training his rodeo skills. That healthy layer of pudge had returned to his cheeks and his belly. And all in all, he looked …content.
The Soldier had no issues adapting back into his role. The rocket launcher sat upon his shoulder with usual ease, like the man had never set it down once. The dent in his helmet could not be helped, no matter how angrily the mechanic had attempted at fixing it back into place at Pops’ anvil. And even respawn couldn’t seem to erase it. It would always be a piece of memory now, and somehow, neither the Soldier nor the Engineer seemed to mind it one bit.
To the Texan’s relief Soldier had not uttered even once the wish to return to the battlefield during their stay at the Conagher farm. At first, he had anticipated the Soldier to grow tired of every day being more or less the same placid pace, void of conflict or bloodshed. The silence, Engie figured, the lack of gunshots and flying rockets would surely lead to a crushing cabin fever. Can take the Soldier out of the battle, but not the battle out of the Soldier.
In the end, however, and to the Engineer’s immense surprise, it was the Commando who seemed to miss the tranquility of Texas the most. He wouldn’t express it in words, nor in actions. He was still the red-blooded war-machine he always was – poised for battle, ready to strike, killing with gusto and with pride, and it wasn’t a good day if said day didn’t end in him covered from head to toe in blood and guts.
But there were subtle hints. When he awoke next to Engie, blinking, confused for a moment at the lack of wooden floorboards, red campy curtains drawn over the windows, the scent of hay and horse missing. When he looked out into the pastures they passed during base-hopping, and his chest letting out a soft, almost forlorn sigh, missing the thrill of a rodeo ride. The way he grumbled with disappointment when the last jar of honey from their very own beehives had gone empty.
And the many times Soldier openly pined for root beer and the elderly care facility’s brand of mashed potatoes …
It was strange, he pondered. When he had set to leave, still believing he would take this journey alone when he clambered into his truck, he had been sure he would sell the house off finally. There was no use clinging to it, seeing as no Conagher after him would exist to keep the legacy on. And despite his childhood room, still untouched since the day he was hired by Mann Co, and despite the lake that harbored the best memories with him and Pops, and despite the old man’s workshop, a place of Engie’s deepest core memories –It was no longer a place he had any emotional connection to, not since his grandfather died. Not since his sister ran away. To him, it was a home no longer. Just a vessel for too many ill memories. Too much heartbreak.
And then Soldier had knocked on his car. And everything had changed.
“What are you standing around for, Private?”
The Engineer snapped out of his pondering, blinking. He had anticipated the Soldier to be off by now, back into the heat of the battle, yet instead, he stood by the entrance of Spawn, glancing back at him.
“Ah, err – shucks, yer right.” Engineer rubbed the back of his neck, scrambling for his tools. “Pardon me.”
This was bad, he knew – reminiscing. It just distracted him. “Jus’ a bit scatter brained, is all. Heh.”
“This isn’t SCATTER-BRAINED – this is being DISHONORABLY SLOW on MY WATCH!” Soldier snapped back.
Despite everything, Engie grinned. Yeah. Really cannot take the battle out of a Soldier. No matter how much honey you fed him.
“WHAT?” Soldier grumbled back. “Did I say something FUNNY, FUNNY-MAN?!”
“Oh nuthin’.” Engie smirked, getting his boxes ready to deploy.
“Son, if you spend as much time GETTING MOVING like you spend time SMIRKING like a SCHOOLGIRL, we’d be WINNING ALREADY! Do I HAVE TO SHOW YOU how to do your JOB?!”
Soldier marched back inside, grabbed one of Engie’s dispensers and hoisted it under his arm. “GIMME THAT!”
“S-Sal, that ain’t –“
“ENOUGH with the chit-chat, hardhat! You will PICK up your tools and then you will PICK YOUR SORRY ASS UP AND MOVE OUT!” Soldier adjusted the heavy toolbox under his arm and headed for the exit.
He watched the way his helmet swayed slightly, that dent having ultimately made the ill-fitted helmet even more ill-fitted. Now always slightly tilted to the left. It was a testament of the friendship they had build up to this moment…
The bull-riding. The day he ran away, and the night he came back to him. The day they left, crammed in Engie’s old pick-up, having thought that he would leave the base having lost his best friend forever, yet finding in him a lover when they rolled that same road back from Bee Cave to Teufort.
The isolation of New Mexico’s badlands. Away from society, away from the team and his friends, away from Gray Maan and his goons - and away from him.
The robot war and the nightmares that followed him, tormented him – But even there Soldier was, saving him. Even when he wasn’t there with him, physically, always protecting him.
Like he protected him from the ravine. And the blood loss. And all those times that could’ve ended with a butterfly-knife implanted in the Engineer’s back.
The gunslinger they build together, running through endless trials and errors, with both coming out of the whole deal much wiser. Not just about mechanics, but themselves, he wagered. Each other, perhaps, as well.
The friendship they built. The hardships they endured.
All the way to the first day when the Soldier looked at him and touched him, and for the first time in twenty years, it had not been just a pat on the shoulder or a punch or a rough-housing session with bruises up and down his body, which hurt when he joined the military man’s laughter, and soothed when they washed the grime off of them in the showers and the grime in their minds with Blustreak beers. When, for the first time, there was more than comradery or baked-in professionalism. More than friendship …
The Soldier was looking at him now as well, as Engie realized suddenly.
“Are you coming, hardhat?” the Commando asked him, readjusting the toolbox under his arm. Ready to go.
Something stirred inside the Engineer when their gazes met, shielded by helmets and goggles, and still he remembered his face. The color of his eyes. The gentleness in them.
Engineer smiled and jogged up to him. “Right with ya, pardner.”
And he really was always right with him.
He enters the office, right after the Soldier official report of the situation, hands holding onto the crutches, the ‘twok, twok’ following his every step as he balanced himself.
Like most things, they come when one expected them the least. In Engineer’s mind, his retirement would either come in the form of an official notice indicating him to be unfit for battle due to old age (which was the option he was hoping for, naturally), or, more likely, his death. His permanent death. A malfunctioning respawn, an incident out of the base. An incurable disease…
Neither would the case, as it turned out.
The company took his right hand for the sake of weaponry trials. Half of his left leg, on the other hand, was taken by a drunk driver. A drunk driver, of all things. Engineer had laughed at the situation, lying flat on the tarmac, the bruise on his forehead gushing blood down his eyebrow and seeping under his eyelid. A gosh-dagnabbin’ doggone drunk driver …
He was lucky it was only his leg and not his life – but it was still a leg, nevertheless.
It went so fast that at first, the Texan believed he had simply been knocked over by the swerving car, the tarmac hard against his spine and the back of his head, sand in his eyes and mouth. The world was a blur for a moment. Then he saw Soldier leaned over him, eyes wide beneath the rim of his helmet as he was shaken back into consciousness. He spoke to him, but he seemed so far away, only able to watch his lips move as sound slowly returned to his ears in a ringing, drilling sound. The Commando said something about staying down, not sitting up, but Engie did it anyway despite the warning, blinking confused at the red blotch splattered across the tarmac, there, where his left leg SHOULD be. Red soaked his jeans. All rationality and book-smartness he had accumulated over the last thirty years did absolutely nothing to make him understand that this was not some strange trick of the eye from the dim glow of the sodium streetlights.
The driver would not be as lucky as him. The car crashed into a rock, engine sizzling and fuming, having crashed into a pedestrian had send the staggering vehicle out of control for good. The dented door swung open, a youngster stumbled out of the wreck with a large cut on his forehead. He groaned something about needing medical attention– but it was Soldier that ended his life proper.
His voice carried over the tarmac and the hoodoos with such intensity and volume it made Engie’s teeth vibrate in his head. Expletives the likes of which Engie had never heard coming out of the Soldier, followed by a yelp, a cry for mercy and the sickening crack of bones snapping. And if the sand wasn’t currently soaking up the cascade of blood spewing from his wrecked left limb, Engie might’ve smacked the militant upside down and then demanded to undo the neck snap he had just inflicted upon the poor kid. But he was unable to speak, and unable to move. And all he remembered was the Soldier, yelling so loudly for help and the Medic even the RED bastards at the other side of the canyon would’ve heard him, and his own weak and manic laughter following the realization that ‘Now I jus’ have ta pay half fer new boots.’
The foot was toast. Most of his shin was as well. 'Too much damage' was the final verdict, a fate neither the Medic nor respawn could undo.
Pyro stuck by him now, being the only mercenary short enough to lean against and not put extra strain on his body when moving around the base. The firebug helped him into the office and then lowered him into the large chair, adjacent to the large mahogany desk. When the Administrator saw him, her eyes widened for a moment as reality seemed to set in for her as well. Then, they hooded with sympathy. And then, with a fortifying breath, the tender warmth on her face abated, and her eyes returned to two cold sapphire stones on a face too young to sit in this chair.
“Ah, looks worse than it is.” Engineer said, a streak of sadness in his chuckle. “Kid that did it is worse fer wear.”
“So I’ve heard,” Miss Pauling said. Her nail tapped a stack of papers to her left. The tower of documents did not seem to have shrunken since last he had been inside her office.
There was a silence, a steeling moment.
“What do you believe should happen now, Engie?” she asked him. Something in her demeanor tried, and failed, to hide the hint of stress that seemed to brew quietly behind her glasses. This was not unlike their last conversation when things got difficult.
It was an open, yet a loaded question.
“Well, we did kill a civilian.” Technically he didn’t. But he also didn’t do much to deter the Soldier from killing the kid, either. Casualties happened. It was part of their job. Sometimes, unsuspecting people, stupid drunk teens or love-struck couples seeking for a secretive hideout in the middle of the badlands stumbled upon Mann Co. turf and paid the price.
But if a death happened at the hands of their mercenaries? A bureaucratic nightmare, to be sure.
“I s’ppose we ain’t gonna rectify that with an apology."
“That is not the issue.” She lifted her glasses from her face. And Engineer was caught slightly off-guard at that. “Actually, forget that, it IS an issue,” she sighed, and opened her eyes again after rubbing them. “But it’s not the main concern.”
He followed the path of her eyes down to his knee. Ah. Of course.
“I can fix this, y’know?” Engie attempted. He slipped the glove from his right arm, flexed the robotic digits. Over time, operating it became less and less stiff and awkward. By now, the metal bend to his will with ease – just like a hand of flesh and bone would.
“Wouldn’t be no thang. Still got the blueprints fer this fella. He’s workin’ lean, better than mah old hand anyway. Could make sum adjustments, still. A hand aint that different from a foot, I reckon. Wouldn’t put any damper on mah performance, I can assure yer that.”
Miss Pauling smiled at him. A hint of that old, easy-going, always slightly hectic smile she wore when reviewing the latest missions, always on the run, always on the go. But always finding time for a chit-chat with all nine of them. Some longer than others, in his case. Some shorter, in Scout’s case.
“I believe you,” she said opening her drawer and rummaging within it. When she retrieved her hand, she placed the item down on the desk between them.
“But the contractors don’t.”
It was a pen.
And that stack of paper, he now realized, was his fate. Printed down on yellow-ish paper in Rheinmetall, the ink half-dried. Assuring him absolute discretion. Assuring his time serving Mann Co would be properly compensated. He would never have to go a day hungry ever again. He would never have to pick up another job again.
He would never have to worry about medical bills. And all possible descendants of his would never have financial worries of their own.
And yet, he would never step foot on another battlefield, ever again.
Engineer had never seen the military man this outraged when he told him. If he hadn’t had the foresight to hook his hands into Soldier’s belt as the man stormed into the office, he was positive he would’ve smashed her entire office into woodchips and then strangled the poor woman.
“TRAITOR!” Soldier barked, so loudly it shuddered through the entire base. “FEMALE JUDAS!”
Poor Miss Pauling, having to fight to keep her composure upright and her voice calm as she explained the Commando the situation under the verbal onslaught of 200 pound muscled rage.
Engie had rarely been witness to such an array of colorful expletives. And neither had the Administrator, from the look on her face.
“ABSOLUTELY, UTTERLY DISHONORABLE!” Soldier smashed his fist down on the desk, making the neatly arranged stacks of paper shudder and threaten to topple.
“Mister Doe, I understand that –“
“Never have I ever WITNESSED such a DISGRACEFUL DISPLAY of DISHONOR and DEVIOUSNESS in my ENTIRE LIFE!”
“Mister Doe, please.”
“Sal.”
He was huffing like an agitated bull. But Engie got his attention, either way. “It’s not her fault.”
“Not her fault? NOT HER FAULT?” he smacked the desk again. “SHE is the one RUNNING this EFFEMINATE OPERATION! If anything, she is THE SOLE REASON FOR –“
“Now that ain’t gosh-darn true, Mister.” Engineer interrupted. “She jus’ writes down our contracts and signs papers, Sal. It wasn’t her decision.”
“Then WHOSE WAS IT?”
“What I have been trying to explain to you, Mister Doe,” Miss Pauling injected, having just emerged from beneath her desk with a stack of documents in her hand, Soldier’s last smack on the table had done the tallest stack in, and it had spilled over the deep red oriental carpet. “Is that this was a decision of non-administrative power. Believe me, if this was up to me, I would not even consider terminating Mister Conagher’s contract, not due to something that I am more than positive can be fixed by Mister Conagher himself. I have spent the last two days on the phone in an attempt at swaying the contractors to overthink their decision. As a matter of fact,” she pushed her glasses back in order on her small nose.
“The better half of that conversation was dedicated to pleading your case as well, Mister Doe.”
Soldier looked taken aback. And not even the Engineer could hide his surprise over that statement.
“Him?” he asked.
“Me?” Soldier pointed at himself.
Miss Pauling inhaled deeply. “What you did was …honorable. Reckless, stupid and absolutely unprofessional - but honorable, nevertheless. If it was up to me, I’d strike this occurrence from the records and we’d never have to talk about it ever again. Believe me. But …The contractors have raised their concerns. They are not pleased about the endangerment of civilian life, even if self-defense situations. I believe the exact quote was: ‘We cannot afford such unpredictable behavior. There are some things that just cannot be fixed this easily.’ ”
Soldier stared at her, unmoving. Aside from the grinding in his jar and the flex in his shoulder, tensing up all over, the man uttered no hint of the emotions currently brewing beneath that helmet.
But Dell knew, whatever it was – it was not good. Just when he was about to reach out and touch him, the Commando moved further into the office, calm and collected. Placed his hand on the table he had just harassed with slams and smacks, also oddly calm.
“Give me my contract.”
Miss Pauling looked at him for a moment, before bending down and reaching for the lowest cabinet on her desk. After a bit of shuffling, she pulled out a manila folder and began rifling through it as well.
It was an old thing, page slightly yellowed from over-exposure to nicotine. Even then, Soldier’s handwriting was the quality of that of a small child, crude lines spelling the word ‘Soldier’, not even his real name.
He took it in his hand, seemed to read it over for a moment.
Before he tore it in half.
Engineer’s jaw nearly hit the floor.
“Sal!” Engineer nearly tripped over his crutches, trying to clamber up to him. The damage was done though. The two halves fluttered to the ground. “What in Sam’s heckin’ hill ya doing?!”
“What does it LOOK like I am doing?” Soldier shot back. “I am resigning as well!”
“Soldier,” Miss Pauling said, the shared shock between her and the mechanic having made her skip the formalities. “I… Look, I understand tempers are flared up right now, but this is not the time for drastic decision making.” A stressed line formed on her face – quite obviously not having expected to have two mercenaries resigning from Mann Co this morning.
“We could … We … Mister Doe, if you would like to revise your contract, we can make it happen. Mann Co is willing to negotiate higher pay, vacation time. If you are willing to work in part-time, then –“
“Unless you plan on re-hiring HIM,” and Soldier pointed at the Engineer. “There will be NO negotiations happening! Vacations, higher pay – what is it GOOD FOR when I am one man SHORT out there?”
Miss Pauling looked utterly miserable. She lifted her glasses from her face and rubbed at her eyes. “That decision is out of my control, Mister Doe.”
“Then my decision is final!”
And it was like someone punched Engie right in the gut.
Miss Pauling heaved a deep sigh. “Very well.”
“Sal, dun’ be gosh-darn stupid!” he hissed. Finally having caught up to him, he put his hand on his shoulder, firmly shaking him. “Accept the revision!”
“Do not concern yourself, hardhat! THIS is strictly MY and the lady’s business!” Soldier wrung his shoulder away from his grasp. “Gimme that pen!”
The Texan gawked. Was he seriously trying to fob him off? NOW?
“Like HELL it is!”
He flung the pen from the man’s hand. Soldier wheeled around, anger and surprise open on his face. “You will NOT INTERFERE, do you UNDERSTAND ME?”
“Sal, there ain’t NO chance on this goddamn green heckin’ earth I’mma let ya do that!”
“I REFUSE to FIGHT for cowards and WEAKLINGS!” Soldier shouted back. “These DAISIES will not just TOSS YOU AWAY like TRASH and get away with such SHAMELESS INDIGNITY! FIRING YOU! YOU! The GREATEST ASSET TO THIS TEAM!” his fists flexed, and Dell feared he would truly begin a rampage any second now. Instead, he pushes them behind his back, stiffly, the anger still simmering inside him.
“NO EXCUSES!” he declared.
The Engineer stares at him. Stares at his jungle boots, military fatigues. The dog tags under his shirt. The slightly askew helmet, dented from rockets and pipe bombs, bullets leaving fine, white streaks against the metal, always slightly too big for him, straps dangling, scowling down at him in that pout, that façade of constant sternness –
And then fear the likes of which Dell had rarely felt settled into his gut like an unstoppable wildfire. Eating him up from the inside.
“You can’t quit.” He tell him. “You need this job.”
“Need? NEED? I DO NOT NEED ANYTHING!” Soldier bellowed so loudly it shuddered even through the thickest walls. His face grew so red from anger he was sure that if he raised his voice any decibel louder he would simply combust. “I do not NEED this job! I do not NEED to be surrounded by WIMPS and WAR-HATING hippies and ENGINEER-DISCRIMINATING COWARDS!”
His pointer finger juts at his face, almost touching his nose.
“I have no NEED for a band of honorless, faithless COMMUNISTS running this joint! I do not NEED any GRAVEL PITS to battle! I do not even NEED any RED MAGGOTS to TRAMPLE into the dirt to win this war! I shall NOT EVER have any NEED for such OPEN DISLOYALTY and DEFECTION OF THIS CALIBER!”
He really means it, Engineer realized. He will give it all up – for him.
Which is why the fear turned to anger so suddenly, he swings his hand down on the desk and it did what Soldier’s hands could not do – the gunslinger smashed the wood, splinters flying in all directions. A small shriek escaped the Administrator, and the military man startled back.
The silence that follows is so thick it threatens to strangle him for good.
“To HELLS, Jane!!” he yelled. “To all dagnabbin’ HELLS!! This is MAH gosh darn battle! NOT YOURS! Are ya too THICK to understand that?!”
Soldier balked at him.
“Y-You will –“
“No, YOU WILL listen ta ME right now, mister!” Crutches momentarily forgotten, Dell pushed himself closer, driving the military man backwards until his back hit the wall. “If ya think I’mma jus’ have you STAND there and RUIN yer own gosh-darn life like that, then yer be havin’ another dang thing comin’! Accept the doggone revision!”
Soldier folded his arms before his chest. “No.”
“NOW, Soldier!”
“Negatory.”
Dell almost slammed the gunslinger on the desk again.
“I ain’t gonna let ya gosh-darn KILL YASELF because of ME!”
“D-DO YOU BELIEVE UNEMPLOYMENT COULD TAKE ME DOWN?!”
It would. It would, he was so sure of it, and he wasn’t goddamn seeing it!
“HELL, IF IT AIN’T THEN I WILL!!” his throat was aching from how loudly he yelled. He was almost positive he had never yelled this loud in his entire life. But pure desperation had taken ahold of him now and he could not shake it off. “I will, missin’ leg be damned. Dun yer even TRY insinuatin’ I couldn’t--!”
“Engie, careful!”
Muscle-memory made the Texan attempt to take another step forward and grab him by the shirt, trying to shake sense into the man, trying to anchor himself perhaps in the face of this crushing reality - but his left leg did not connect with the ground like he was used to. The crutches slipped from under him.
A set of arms, feline-like reflexes, catch him before he would fall. Gentle arms, strong arms. Arms he knew so well – carefully depositing him back into a secure stand. Rearranging the crutches beneath him with care. At least he was spared the embarrassment of face-planting in front of their boss. But having to be handled like a handicapped child was, nevertheless, an uncomfortable experience.
The words weren’t spoken out. Yet one glance between Miss Pauling and him, and it said more than a thousand words ever could convey.
“Shucks.” He muttered, defeated.
A tense moment of silence followed, only broken by the soft ‘shhhp’ of the drawer opening and Miss Pauling placing a fresh resignation form plus pen on the table.
“Your signature please, Mister Doe.”
And when Soldier let go of him, turning to the desk and picking up his pen, Engineer turned the other direction, walking to the door.
“Send me the bill fer the desk, Miss Pauling.”
“Engie,” she said. But there was nothing more to discuss. He took a hold of the doorknob and turned.
“If yer signin’ that there,” he announced to the Soldier. “Then dun’ ever think about poppin’ up on mah gosh-darn doorstep, ever again.”
He makes it to Carlsbad before he comes to a halt at the roadside, his head pounding behind his eyes. The wetness blurred the dark tarmac with the red purple sand, muddling his senses. He hadn’t spent much time hesitating. Not after that. The Engineer brought little with him, twenty years ago, when he joined Mann Co. He came home with even less. One small bag of all his clothes, personal items. The rest was his equipment, his tools, two crates full of scraps. He was not allowed to take his uniform with him.
Saying goodbye was the hardest part. He visited every single one. Explained the situation. Gave them a hug, and his best wishes for the future. Asking to stay in contact as much as that was possible. “Y’all oughta take a trip down ta the Conagher farm sometimes,” he had joked. “Got enough rooms fer everyone. I’mma fix us up some proper Texan Barbeque.”
“Ohh, I vill hold you to zhat promise.” Medic smirked. They hugged. Long and tight. They knew it would likely be the last time in a very long time to come.
“Goodbye, Dell.” The German sniffled. “Zhe battlefield vill be a tad emptier now, vithout you.”
“Dha.” Heavy agreed. “No more sandvich dispenser.”
“No more teleporter.” Demo lamented. “Pfff, like you need anutha excuse to slack off, eyehole!” Scout poked the Scotsman’s soft belly. “Oy, doon’ ye call me fat!”
“Fatty, fat-fat!”
“Augh stoop!”
Pyro sobbed so heart-wrenchingly under that mask, Engie contemplated taking them home with him. Miss Pauling is gonna rip my doggone head off if I do that, he knew. “Mpph mmpph pphyphhecking!” the firebug cried, translating to ‘No more spychecking!’
“Aw, Py,” Dell hugged them tightly, “Listen, bud. Yall are the best Spy-checker this side of this heckin’ continent. Oughta put yer talent out there ta help the others now, hm?”
“Would appreciate that greatly.” Sniper agreed.
The sun had set when Dell had his things packed and his truck loaded, carefully rearranging his belongings on the truck bed, securing the crates with ropes. Long journey ahead, he thought, giving the car a gentle pat on the hood. He hoped his old Betsy would survive the trip.
But she had survived worse. Thunderstorms. Sandstorms, even. A few crashes and popped tires. Soldier’s first driving exercise –
He turns. Takes a glance at the base before him. It was once a bread manufacturing facility long out of commission. Likely, it was just a storefront, and not one single loaf of bread was ever made in here.
He doesn’t want to. But his eyes drift to the window, the last one to the right. The one he knew belonged to …
“You seem in a ‘urry.”
“Well, ain’t Mann Co. no longer. Bad idea ta linger ‘round their perimeter, right?”
He pushed past the needle-stripe suit and the stench of sharp nicotine, grabbing his last remaining belongings from the floor. His toolbox, the only item issued by Mann Co he was allowed to take home with him. It was a small mercy, considering he had to relinquish most of his other things. His drafting table. His workbench. That old couch he had bought with his own money, even the fridge. What stung worse, of all, though, were his gadgets.
They weren’t his, technically. His sentry, his dispensers, his teleporters – they were commissioned by, then sold to Mann Co by his grandfather. And though over the many years he had perfected the formula of the blueprints Pops had left him with, tinkering until every last miniscule circuit ran exactly as he liked and every tiny cable was arranged just the way he desired, designed them into what they were now, quite different from the original drafts – they were, still, not his. Never were.
Sharp silver eyes trailed him as he tossed the canvas bag into the truck.
“Yes,” the taller man drawled, “We wouldn’t like to ‘ave any conflicts now, would we? Clean-up crew doesn’t arrive until next morning.”
The scar on his jugular itched.
“I’m done with conflicts,” Dell heaved the heavy toolbox up and into the truck, pushing it into a small nook where it would be snugly trapped between the two crates.
“Why, if ze excessive screaming between you and our patriotic copain which could be ‘eard from miles avay wasn’t a hint, I wouldn’t know what is. I suppose it may be for ze best, neveurtheless.”
He heard the Spy's boot scrape across the floor to extinguish his cigarette.
“Zis is Au revoir, then?”
“Yup.”
He had not hoped to have to say goodbye to him, the last mercenary of their former band. They don’t share a glance as he picked up his jacket from the hook and with a few grunts trying to balance himself on his crutches and attempting to slip his arm through the sleeve without tilting over. A hand pushes against his shoulder, black silken gloves. Keeping him upright as he feeds his other arm through the sleeve.
“Much obliged.” He mutters and pulls the flaps close, before picking his crutches up once again.
The Spy does not answer.
The hand lingers, strangely.
And when Dell begins moving again, fingers curl into the fabric into a sudden, strong, firm grasp.
“You know,” the man finally said then. “Consideuring the situation, I wondeur if I ought to let you go just like zat.”
The Texan froze. Years of Spy encounters had infused him with a sixth sense, an inkling in the shape of a certain balaclava-clad Frenchman.
“I could make you pay for what you did to me. I SHOULD make you pay for what you did to me.”
It was the first time in a while that the Engineer turned and faced him. Truly faced him. He was still that slimy, thin man he knew him as, still clad in overly expensive needle-stripe and silken gloves, a ridiculous uniform outside in the arid badlands of New Mexico.
Even to the untrained eye, one could tell the mask did not sit the way it used to. Slightly dented. Slightly misshapen. Like one had shot isolation foam beneath the fabric and applied it unevenly, making him look …off. If there had been one thing the Spook was ever so proud of, it was his handsomeness.
Not anymore, it would seem. The Engineer had made sure of that, that one fateful night. Leaving behind the bitterness and venom hiding beneath that façade of charm.
“If’n ya think I’m an easy target jus’ cuz I’m one leg shorter,” Dell slipped the glove from his hand, exposing the tool with which he had destroyed the French’s facial bones before. “I’d like ta re-introduce yer to this lil’ number. I broke three fingers that night, y’know? Fortunately, metal can be reattached. Fixed up. Heard it ain’t quite the same with bones.” He flexed the iron digits of the gunslinger.
A hint of that same terror in his cool, calculating eyes returned.
But only fleeting.
Spy withdrew his hand from him. Flicked his kit from his suit, withdrew a cigarette, lit it. Inhaled, the gleam illuminating his features temporarily in deep red hues. Exhaling into the night.
“You are correct. It does not.” Spy sighed. “But tell me – what man do you believe would ratheur relinquish flesh and bone to …zis? To unfeeling, cool metal, neveur to experience the feeling of touch eveur again, to feel touches upon yeur skin, or touching one else’s? To take functionality oveur humanity, to be looked upon with pity, or awe, or confusion or …disgust? Never again like a man. What man would willingly be consideured ...less human?”
Silver trailed his body, an expression of open disgust. The hair on Engie’s neck stood at full attention.
“To be less man in the eyes of men.”
His hands tighten around the crutches instinctively, eyes locked in a silent but rather deadly staredown. Only broken by the Spy inhaling from his cigarette, the tip glinting orange.
“Yes. Yes, I see now what he sees in you. I suppose it is fitting. He is a psychopathic imbecile who kills innocent civilians. You are stripped of yeur true humanity, limb by limb.” The evilest smirk stretched across his lips, the silver thinning into two, deadly slits. Striking.
“Only a monstrosity could truly find conversance with anotheur monstrosity.”
Dell made a step forward, too fast for his crutches to catch up with and landed face-first in the sand. This time, there were no arms to catch him just before he’d eat the floor. Only the sharp hissing laughter of the Spy above him and the deep-seated ache of his entire pride crumpling to the floor with him. The man approached, pointy leather shoes coming to a halt at his face. Engie was sure the Spook would act upon his little contemplation from before – he’d have a proper opportunity to stomp his face into an approximation of the human form right now. Maybe even kill him. Spy would walk out of spawn just ten minutes later. Engineer would never again be able to be recalled back to life from this day on, his name struck from the respawn system for good.
He could see the man contemplating that option.
Instead, he did the next best thing – taking another deep inhale of his cigarette, before simply letting it drop onto the Engineer's head, still lit. The burning tip cut into his flesh with a stinging, seering zip of pain.
“Bon voyage, mon petit laboreur.” He purred, and with that disappeared.
His forehead now had a not so savory red circular mark, just above his left eyebrow. A bit of hair had burned off as well. Fantastic. Crippled once more, and now he’d have to run around with that on top of everything. He checks himself in the backview mirror, again and again, watching as the blotch grows redder and angrier.
It might be just a fraction of what he had done to the man’s face with his fists. But, like the scar on his neck, this would leave a scar as well. One final au revoir. One final act of malignance.
It stings, but the ache in his chest sting worse.
He is a psychopathic imbecile who kills innocent civilians. You are stripped of your true humanity, limb by limb.
He had come to despise the word imbecile. It made his hand clench tightly around the steering wheel, trying to rub his eyes clean with the sleeve of his button up. Checking the backview mirror. Rubbing his face. Checking his backview mirror. Checking his passenger seat. Why did it feel like he was forgetting something? Checking the backview mirror --
His boot suddenly slams the breaks, the tires screeching against the tarmac, jerking forward, shuddering – then coming to a final janky stop. The engine growls, then stutters – then dies on him. Suddenly the constant hum of the driving car yielded to the following quietness, only interrupted by the occasional chirp of the crickets. And his own, stunned breathing.
He had made it to Carlsbad. The large sign greeting him in the city stood tall and proud before him, elegantly carved into sandstone.
‘Welcome home,’ it said.
Home…
His knuckles turned white where they were clenching around the steering wheel, eyes trained on the truckbed through the narrow mirror hanging above him.
He hadn’t even noticed it. Not until just a few moments ago.
His bags, the crates of scraps he had taken with him, his toolbox and other gadgets Mann Co allowed him to take home. He had deposited it all, tugged snuggly on one side of the truckbed. Leaving a sizeable bit of room back there empty.
Leaving room for more, he realized. Room for someone else’s luggage.
Room for someone else.
Just been distracted by the Spook, he tells himself, and knows it’s a lie. He knows he did it subconsciously. And yet, here he was. Alone. The truckbed half empty. The passenger seat empty. His eyes drift to the seat next to him, half-expecting it to be occupied by white and blue cotton, dog tags glinting in the passing streetlights, a striped furred tail peeking out from beneath the hem of his shirt, iron helmet leaning against the window, snoozing already. A sight he had grown so accustomed to through the months, it seemed like second natur now.
Which is why it felt so utterly wrong when all he catches is the dim yellow glow of the sodium streetlights on the old, cracked leather seat.
The driver’s side door is kicked open and the Engineer poured out of it, panting. The cool air catches on the sheen of sweat covering his entire body. He grabs his crutches and hobbles from one side of the car to the other, not knowing what to do exactly, but having to do something, even if it’s just …this.
What am I doing, he asks himself. Just what in Sam’s hill am I doing?!
There was no use lingering around the base, he knew that. It was no use trying to fight his case, either. And then Soldier went and did the absolutely worst thing the tinkerer could’ve imagined.
He quit his job.
Scratch that, he spit in Mann Co,’s face, effectively rendering all possibilities to ever be re-hired again as null and void. Fuck.
Fuck!
A bout of panic rises within him.
Dagnabbit, I can’t just leave him behind, he realizes with a pang of desperation. He isn’t made for the life of a lone civilian. If potential joblessness and therefore homelessness wouldn’t do him in, it would be the cops, should he get riled up one too many times and neck-snap someone. I can’t just …
And then what? Take him home? Hope the man whose only passion in life is killing would accept a life without it? Just become docile and domestic? Is that what you think is going to happen, Conagher?
I cannot give him what he needs, he knows.
And what he needs is war. He needs this life. He needs his battlements, he needs the chaos of battle, he needs a weapon in his hand and the wind in his face when he rocket-jumped across stretches of arid wastelands. He needs the rush of the fight, the gunpowder and the sand and offal and blood sticking to his skin and the roof of his mouth, the feeling of bones snapping under his hands and boots, or his own bones snapping and reattaching, needs the pain and the suffering to feed the adrenaline, needs death and destruction and to be spat out by respawn, to do it all over again, and again, and again.
How could I ever, ever, in a million years, give him that?
He knew he couldn’t. Eight months under the pretense of a vacation? That was one thing.
This, however, would spell the rest of his life.
“DagNABBIT!!” he shouted into the night, swinging his fist. It connected with the side view mirror and it snapped off with startling ease. “He will go insane from gosh-darn cabin fever!!” He barks at the ground, at nobody in particular but himself. “He will go NUTS from boredom, n’ heckin’ KILL someone! Or himself, that darn reckless idiot! And there won’t be any doggone respawn ta fix ‘em up! Fer god’s sake, he will…” he comes to a halt, hand clenched tightly around his crutch. His throat is clogged, either from the sand or the anger, threatening to choke him.
“I ain’t got no gosh-darn wars at mah exposal! No weapons, no respawn, no gosh-darn battlements! HELL, I can’t even give him sum people ta blow up regularly!” he rubs at his face, exhaustion taking over. He leans against the car, face in his hand.
”He’s gonna run away, eventually. He won’t be able ta take this life anymore, and he’ll…” he swallows. Takes in a stuttering breath. “He’ll leave me.”
Like Pops did. Like Gloria did.
Every person he ever cared for more than he cared about himself had left him, one way or the other. And for two fortnights, he had thought he lost Soldier as well, to even worse circumstances. He knew he would not be able to take it, should the man decide to run off again. Not a second time. Not another person he loved, leaving him out there on his own -
'What concerns me is you, being out there on your own, without me looking after you.'
The memory comes to him so suddenly. It’s like he is standing on the patio again, the scent of wheat and tea in the air, the warm evening breeze rolling over his skin.
'I have SEEN what you do when I’m not around! And you want ME to go out there and fight and leave YOU on your own?'
He looks up from his hand. Startled to find his palm wet with tears he didn’t notice spilling from his eyes.
'I promised Ol’ Joel to keep you safe, as well. I cannot ... I CANNOT default on my vows! NOTHING and NO ONE can change that!'
It hits him then, with absolute clarity.
I promised him to never leave him again. And he promised me the same, that evening. You just didn’t see it, did you, Conagher?
A convoy of trucks barrels down the road. Momentarily the silence is filled with the loud roar of the engines and the blaring of the horn, angry over the car stranded in the middle of the road. He doesn’t even hear the angered shouts and insults thrown out of the window at him. As they pass, the night is once again filled with the subtle chirping of crickets and the hollow howl of the wind. And Dell stares down the direction from where they had come from. From where he had come from.
Teufort – 35 Miles, the traffic sign declared...
He doesn’t bother rolling into the assigned parking lot, simply rolling it close to the entrance and killing the engine. He doesn’t bother with both crutches, either. The base is dark, indicating most had gone to sleep by now. Alone one single window was still aglow.
His room had always felt clinical and barren. Void of personal attachments such as furniture or decorations. Reduce to the bare, necessary minimum. Perfect for a man of bare minimum needs such as the military man. It wasn’t even akin to a workspace like Engineer’s workshop had been, where clutter dominated most parts of it, his personality shining through the hoard of scraps and endless amounts of personal projects he never finished, coffee stains on the wood of his workbench and staining blueprints and scrap notes.
Now, the Commando’s room looked even emptier than usual, if that was even possible. How Soldier managed to fit most of his belonging in that tiny canvas bag he was leaned over was a mystery - either the man was excellent at space-saving. Or, most likely, he simply had little to no personal possessions important enough to take with him.
Most of that is back in Texas, the Engineer realized.
Soldier looked up upon the unannounced entry into his domicile. As most times, his expression gave nothing away, alone the parting of his lips giving the impression of mild surprise.
They stand there, staring at one another. And just now did the tinkerer even realize he was out of breath.
“Sal,” he heaved in a fortifying breath, attempting to still his thundering heart. “I … Pardon me fer bargin’ in here. I jus’, err, well. Forgot ta… Forgot ta lock up fer the night. Yeah. For good, I reckon. Still can’t believe it’s been nearly twenty years now, but. Well, either way, can’t have sum scallywags try’na sneak into mah workshop, eh?”
Not his workshop anymore, he had to remind himself.
But the Soldier says nothing. Not even when Engie lifts his gaze to gauge for his reaction. His jaw had snapped close again, leaving him in that same, stern pout that reflected so little about what was happening beneath that helmet. If Soldier found it irrirtating that his domicile was entered without his explicit permission AND by the Engineer no less, he made no attempts at venting that.
He just stood there, staring.
Dell’s eyes drifted through the room. To the bag seated on Soldier’s cot. A stack of white, immaculately folded shirts next to it, ready to be packed as well. It made sense to him then. He had not, like Engie had demanded, accepted the revision. He had, against Engie’s threat, signed his resignation. He was serious about this. And now he was ready to leave, too.
Where the hell would Soldier even go? Home? He doesn’t have a home, Engie remembered. Nobody out there waiting for him, welcoming him back. He was alone, with nowhere to go.
Except for one place. With one person.
“Err. Ya headin’ out?”
Like most times, Dell was bad at small talk and the Soldier even worse, not uttering a word.He lifts his hand and rubs at his face. “Jus’ …if’n y’all rather I get lost, better be lettin’ me know now.”
But Soldier still refused to talk. To express anything. The Texan never had felt this level of uncertainty around the military man before. But if I speak now I am lost, he knew. And if I turn around now, I’ll run.
The only way was forwards.
“Look, son. I …I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I acted in that office today.” He says with finality. “Lost mah composure a mighty sum, didn’t I? Heh.”
He wanted to say so much, and all at once, and just hope this garble tumbling from his mouth could only bring across a fraction of the thundering maelstrom inside his head.
“Reckon what happened today was jus’ a tad too much fer me ta handle, ya know? First mah own resignation. Then y’all jumpin’ in there, declarin’ yer own.”
He ran his hand along his sandy, trimmed hair. ”Ta be honest, Sal, I couldn’t believe y’all would jus’ …quit, y’know? Still can’t wrap mah head ‘round it even now. Figured you’d stick with Mann Co. ‘til they run dry fer good, god knows when that happens. Figured nuthin’ in this world would ever make ya willingly give all of this here up.”
And certainly not for me, he wanted to add. But the words somehow did not reach his tongue.
“S'ppose I was so shocked, all I could do was … beg ya not to do it. Even if it meant saying things I oughta never say.”
‘Dun’ ever think about poppin’ up on mah gosh-darn doorstep, ever again.’ The words rang in his mind, mocking him. His heart clenched, and it clenched even harder when his glance fell onto that one, single canvas bag that wasn’t even half-way filled. Soldier’s entire life was inside that bag. It was all he had.
The rest is back in Texas.
“Shoot, Sal. I know, I’m jus’ a darn idiot sometimes, speakin’ before thinkin’. I dunno why I always do this, when all it ever does is make things harder. That oughta not be part of me. We Engineer's fix things, dun' make 'em more complicated.”
He laughs softly, wanting to smack his face into the wall. Just anything to keep his voice leveled and composed.
“The truth is, Sal …before y’all came n’ joined me down there, I was sure I was gon’ go n’ sell that old farmhouse. No good memories ta remember down there anyway. Only shadows n’ demons. Everythin’ good in there has died a long while ago. It stopped bein’ a home to me. Or maybe it ain’t ever been a true home. That was until …” After what felt like an eternity, the Texan finally lifted his eyes to meet his, still obscured by that heavy iron lid.
“Until you came along with me. And now I realize – it’ll never be a home ever again if y’all ain’t around. ” He smiled, brittle and pained, trying his hardest to stay strong in the face of his truest, purest emotions and the utter lack thereof from the man across.
“It’s like I told ya. That house is ya home, too. And shucks - I ain’t ever gonna be at home again if … if you aren't at mah side.”
There was still no indication if his words reached the other. Yet he could see the way the Soldier’s chest seemed to take in deeper breaths now. Indicating …what? Fear? Anger?
Or maybe he just imagined it. Maybe he was just talking himself into trouble for absolutely nothing.
Maybe, painfully realizing this, he had really, truly lost the man for good. By banning him from his home. And therefore banning him from his life.
“Just’ …forget it. M’sorry fer botherin’ ya. I should jus’ ...”
He turns.
Thunderous footsteps rushed closer. He barely has the time to look up, let alone shield himself, should the Soldier’s intents be to punch him. Probably deserve it, too.
But it wasn’t a pair of knuckles or an elbow or a knee that socked him in the mouth.
Lips caught his, rushed, uncoordinated, and utterly frantic. The sudden, but oh so familiar sensation robs him of his breath and his brain short-circuits altogether, leaving him stunned for half a moment. And then there was no more telling where the Engineer’s desperation for one another began and Soldier’s ended. There is no room to talk, no room to question or wonder, as their arms grabbed one another, the tinkerer cradled in Soldier’s crushing embrace. Picking the tinkerer up from the ground, the crutches cluttering to the floor and neither caring. Holding onto the rocketeer, his face in Engie’s hands, lips catching and moving and biting and chewing and then whispering when the space between allowed it:
“Soldier...”
The moment their lips leave one another, Soldier’s labored, shuddering breathing washed over his face, panting like he’d just ran a marathon. Or like someone had punched him in the gut. Or scared the absolute living crap out of him.
“Did y’all think I was jus’ gonna leave without ya?” he asks him, and when the Soldier struggled to speak, awful trembling setting into his broad body and still gasping with every intake of air, he leans his forehead against his. “Breathe, darlin’. Breathe. I’m right with ya.”
His soft touches, running along the man’s nape and shoulders, seemed to do the trick. And when his lungs stopped demanding more air than needed, Soldier spoke:
“D-Do not …” he growled. Swallowed audibly. “Do not EVER call yourself an idiot ever again, you MAGGOT! EVER! Not on my damn watch! If I catch you calling yourself that AGAIN, I will crawl up your nose and BEAT that word out of your frilly BRAIN!! Do you UNDERSTAND?”
Engie blinked. Despite the situation, the mechanic began chortling, cradling the Soldier’s jaw in his hands.
“Reckon I can do that.” And he just kisses him anew. Deeper, gentler than before. Full of all the things words could not express properly.
They part, reluctantly, when the need for air outgrew their need for one another. The chirps of Lieutenant Bites drew their attention away from one another. The Engineer glances to the canvas bag, lying forgotten on the now stripped cot. The critter peaked its head out from within, one of Soldier’s military-issued white cotton underpants draped over its furred head. Had Soldier attempted to pack the raccoon up in there, as well? It made him laugh again, despite the wetness gathering in his eyes. Where would a Soldier out of commission and a bitey raccoon go, he wondered …?
Didn’t matter anymore. There was only one place they would be heading to. He takes Soldier’s hands in his, feeling the slight tremble inside them still.
“Let’s go home, Jane.”
Notes:
Remember when I said last chapter would be the end of the angst? Yeah haha.
Man. This chapter comes at a really funky time in my life: Went through my first pretty bad heartache, lost a pretty important social and therapeutical network of mine, scrambling to get a job while also applying for universities and currently in the process of revaluating my future life goals...
So, if this chapter feels a bit odd, I guess that's why.Update 11/2/24
Ello! Dont worry I am not dead. But i have had to make a super quick and impromptu move and am now in my first psychology semester at a new uni at the other side of my country. Things are a bit hectic and leave very little time for creative stuff. But i do intent on having this fanfiction finished this year, so god help me
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Last Edited Mon 12 Mar 2018 03:38AM UTC
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