Fractures: Chapter Two
BLU Spy did not sleep so well. He could lie there for hours while his mind worked away, scrabbling away like a rat in a trap. Had any of his team known the general consensus would have been that insomnia was what contributed to his abrasive personality. But they didn't know. Spy spent his sleepless hours quietly. He'd either roam the corridors to do some thinking or go outside to smoke in peace. As in most of his daily activities he did it carefully, silently and often invisibly as well. Therefore when he leant against the wall of the base, cigarette sliding between his lips, it was quite a shock to hear someone whisper a cheery "Bonjour, Azul" into his ear.
His knife was in hand in an instant and he lashed out to his right. A hand caught his arm, the fingers like iron. Perhaps they would leave bruises even through the thick material of his coat. RED Spy flickered into view.
"Is zhat 'ow you treat everyone who says 'ello, Azul?" He didn't sound upset in the least. The moonlight reflected up from the snow and RED's curved smile was very white.
"Non. It is just 'ow I treat REDs that should not be 'ere," he'd dropped his cigarette onto the snow, "What do you want, Rosso?"
"Just to talk."
BLU Spy snorted, digging into his coat for his cigarette case. He made sure that his back was against the wall of the base,
"You never want to just talk. You want to gloat."
"I promise I will not, Azul," as BLU Spy put his new cigarette between his lip RED's lighter was there. He leant in, keeping his counterpart in the corner of his eye,
"Do not be insulted if I choose not to believe zhat," he blew out a plume of smoke, "Or on second thoughts, be insulted and go away."
RED sighed and put a hand over his heart, the very picture of rejection,
"I know when I am not wanted. So I will take my leave," he started off across the snow towards RED base. BLU Spy was suspicious. That had been too easy, "But I would check in your pocket if I were you."
It was a heavy envelope with 'BLU' written across it in RED's elegant handwriting. He'd not noticed RED putting it there. He slit it open with his knife, feeling RED's eyes on him.
When the photographs came tumbling out he was almost rendered speechless.
"What zee fuck is zhis, Rosso?"
"You were always very interested in photography, non?"
"What are trying to prove?" he shoved the photographs into his pocket for now. The knife stayed in his hand, "Why are you threatening 'im?"
"Maybe it's not a threat. Maybe I am just interested, oui?" RED shrug and incredibly he turned and started walking away again.
"Get back 'ere, RED! Tell me what you are planning, connard! Come back! Come back, Domi!"
Oh. Oh, that had been a mistake. After all these years it was still so easy to make a slip. Dom- RED actually stopped, looking back at his and BLU Spy keep his eyes off him. He didn't want to see whatever smug expression he'd put on. But it was worse. He laughed.
BLU Spy had always had an excellent memory for sounds. Voices, music, languages - oh, languages had been so easy - all of them were filed neatly away into his mind to be summoned at a moments notice. And Domi's - no, RED Spy's laugh was there as well.
That soft, throaty chuckle, sometimes with a little snort that was somehow endearing, inviting a listener to join him... Even after all these years it sent a jolt right down to his groin.
"I shall see you soon, oui? I shall shall see you both soon."
RED Spy walked away under the moonlight.
****
Heavy might have been biased but he did not understand the team when they said Medic was hard to get along with. As far as he was concerned Doktor had likes and dislikes same as any person. Same as any other person once you got to know them he was actually quite easy to get on with.
For example when the morning alarm went off it was always Medic who stirred first. He was quick on the battlefield so naturally, thought Heavy, he was quick to wake up in the mornings. Heavy for his part liked to keep his eyes shut a little longer. Oh, if it were an intruder alarm he would have been up like a shot. Once he'd sat up so quickly he'd accidentally launched Medic across the bed, much to his surprise. Another time he'd been so quick he'd nearly gone without his uniform.
But when it was just the morning call he liked to linger, maybe hug Medic a little tighter. The German would always tut as he groped for his glasses but it was fine. Heavy could read him well enough to know when he was actually annoyed. And there was always that extra minute between Medic getting his glasses then demanding that they get up.
"Liebe. If you vould."
This morning was no different then. He slid his hands up and down Medic's back slowly and the Doctor pushed back with a happy sigh. When Heavy opened his eyes Medic was above him and smiling.
"Good morning, Doktor."
"Guten Morgen," he leant in for a kiss and Heavy was happy to indulge him.
And that was how to wake Medic up in a good mood. Easy really.
Medic rolled off him then. The beds BLU provided were uncomfortably small for one man. To share one resulted in some unusual sleeping arrangements. Heavy took up the whole thing if he lay on his back and should they lie on their sides together there was always the risk of him falling out or Medic accidentally being crushed against the wall. Safest and easiest way was for him to lie on his back with Medic sleeping on top of him. He had to reassure Doktor that he had no problem with serving as his mattress. It was fine - it meant he could always feel him there, a comforting weight on his chest.
He'd brought up the issue of a new bed only once. Maybe BLU could send them a bigger bed, he had said. Might mean they could fight RED better if they weren't so cramped in the night. Medic had said 'nein' immediately. Their sleeping arrangements were adequate. There was no need to get BLU involved with something that was still quite illegal.
They didn't talk about it much. That was fine too. Heavy really didn't want to play a game of 'who had it harder growing up liking men'. There were things that they didn't acknowledge.
For example, after Medic got up he always went to the operating theatre to check his Medigun. Always in his pyjamas before his shower, before anything. And Heavy understood it - he kept a careful eye on Sasha too. While Medic was fussing over charge and wires Heavy would pour out a glass of water for him and leave it on his desk. Giving it to him directly was bad because that was acknowledging it. Leaving it on the desk was better. It could be for anything and anyone that way.
He tried not to be anywhere near the desk when Medic came out of the theatre. He might be tidying away his books or pretending to check on Sasha but one eye would always be on Medic.
The German would sit behind his desk and take the little metal tin out the bottom drawer. He would take two pills from it and set them neatly on the desk. He always did it himself. If handing him the water was bad then actually handling the Doctor's medicine was worse.
Heavy tried his best to help. Sometimes it didn't work. There was a certain scar on Medic, one of a few, a straight white line running from groin to navel. Once, early on in their relationship, they'd been in bed together and he'd gone to lick and kiss it. The reaction he'd gotten had been quite frightening and he considered himself lucky that he'd not just been kicked out immediately. It might have been a little sexy too. Doktor was very handsome when he was angry. But he'd learnt. The scar was something they didn't acknowledge either.
After Medic had swallowed his medicine Heavy couldn't go over to him right away. He might see it as pity. But after Medic had gotten up, after he'd finished his water and cleaned and dried the glass then Heavy could go over.
Today he enfolded the German into a hug, "accidentally" brushing his hand across Medic's stomach, against the single layer of material that lay between him and that scar. He didn't notice. That was good. Medic used to tense at even that little touch.
"Vhat is zis in aid of, meine liebe?" he leant in close, face turned upwards to look Heavy in the eyes. Heavy kissed him,
"Just vant to hold Doktor."
"Und zat is fine," his warm hand, not in its cold rubber glove yet, came up to caress Heavy's stubbly jaw, "but if ve do not go for our shower now zen Scout vill leave us no breakfast."
"Scout is leetle. Cannot eat all the food. Will end up here again."
"Yet he vill try," Medic shook his head ruefully, "Come zen. Let us save Scout from himself," he patted Heavy on the arm and the Russian took the hint and released him. Together they headed for the infirmary shower block.
There were still many things that Heavy had to be careful with concerning Medic. But he was a patient man. And Doktor was worth being patient for.
****
There was nothing as grand as the Gare Montparnasse in Challens though Rene fought the urge to stop and stare. This was Paris and it had sights far more spectacular than this. And besides what could make him look more the country mouse than gawking at a train station. Instead he adjusted his jacket with what was hopefully a nonchalant air and started down the platform, suitcase in both hands.
He had little enough money as it was and he knew a taxi would be expensive. Domi had offered to book a car for him as well as pay for his train ticket. But Rene had refused and he'd fretted over it for days and days, wondering if Domi thought him ungrateful. Thankfully his reply had come with a neat list of directions folded inside the letter.
If you are as stubborn as I remember, my friend, he had written, you will continue to say 'no' for fear of somehow inconveniencing me. And though I may insist again and again you will still do so until we are both quite blue in the face. Luckily my apartment is not so far and you are unlikely to come to harm in broad daylight and on such a well-travelled route. Therefore I will hope for the best and annoy my colleagues with my incessant fretting.
Rene touched the jacket pocket where he had folded the precious letter and its instructions away. Would he recognise Domi when he saw him? Years could change a man quickly. What if the Domi that he remembered from all those years spent inseparable in Challens was different to the Domi that lived in Paris?
Well he couldn't known until he met up with him. His hand - already sweating a little and not just from the summer heat - reached into the pocket for the letter.
It wasn't there. Rene dug about in his pocket then began to frantically pat himself down. He had had it in his pocket! He was sure of it! And it had stayed in his pocket the entire journey. Maybe he'd taken it out once between Le Mans and Chartres to think of Domi but he'd put it back afterwards. Oh God if he had lost them, his only link to Domi... No, he could not think like that. He had most likely just put it into his suitcase.
He knelt and opened it, hands search through his neatly folded clothes. Someone's polished shoes came into the edge of his vision and he turned a little to snap at them-
"You dropped something, my friend."
Oh God. That voice. A shiver went up Rene's spine. Whatever changes Domi had undergone that voice was still the same.
He looked up-
The morning alarm shattered the dream as surely as it had been one of Soldier's rockets. Speaking of which Soldier was already up and banging on doors. He groaned and drew the covers up and over his face.
By his insults Soldier was already passing the doors of Pyro (All-Quiet-on-the-Western-Front) and Demoman (Drunken Scottish Cyclops) and since the Engineer's workshop was past the rest of the living quarters near the Infirmary and Heavy's room went unused that meant-
"RISE AND SHINE, CROUTON!" Spy pulled the pillow over his head as well. No good. He could still hear him, "UP AND AT 'EM! NO MAN IN MY SQUAD IS MISSING THE CHANCE TO FEEL RED BLOOD-"
"We get the bloody picture!" Sniper levered himself up from the bed. Spy had been so sure he had melded with the mattress: he slept so deeply, "Shut up, will yah?"
Soldier made indignant bellows but ultimately continued down the corridor to bother Engineer (Toymaker) and the pair in the Infirmary (the Commie-Nazi Alliance). Sniper flopped back into the pillow.
"Merci, Bushman."
"Ah, he'll forget tomorrow," he nuzzled into the bedding approximately where Spy's head was, "Be back to banging on at us in no time."
"Zhat is our lot in life. To be shouted at by maniacs."
"Least he's enthusiastic?"
"...Oui, maybe. But 'ee is also crazy," Spy unburied his head and rolled onto his back, "You are so optimistic."
Sniper shrugged. For a while it was quiet, with only the muted noises of the team getting up and the distant bellow of Heavy - "We are in shower!" - presumably at Soldier.
"Hey, Spook?"
Spy levered his eyes open again,
"What?"
Sniper kissed him on the temple,
"G'morning, luv." Spy had to smile at that,
"Are you planning on making it good, Bushman?"
"Bloody Spook."
But he kissed him again on the cheek and again on the neck. And for a while Spy could forget all about Soldier and the battle and the photographs of Sniper in his coat pocket.
His knife was in hand in an instant and he lashed out to his right. A hand caught his arm, the fingers like iron. Perhaps they would leave bruises even through the thick material of his coat. RED Spy flickered into view.
"Is zhat 'ow you treat everyone who says 'ello, Azul?" He didn't sound upset in the least. The moonlight reflected up from the snow and RED's curved smile was very white.
"Non. It is just 'ow I treat REDs that should not be 'ere," he'd dropped his cigarette onto the snow, "What do you want, Rosso?"
"Just to talk."
BLU Spy snorted, digging into his coat for his cigarette case. He made sure that his back was against the wall of the base,
"You never want to just talk. You want to gloat."
"I promise I will not, Azul," as BLU Spy put his new cigarette between his lip RED's lighter was there. He leant in, keeping his counterpart in the corner of his eye,
"Do not be insulted if I choose not to believe zhat," he blew out a plume of smoke, "Or on second thoughts, be insulted and go away."
RED sighed and put a hand over his heart, the very picture of rejection,
"I know when I am not wanted. So I will take my leave," he started off across the snow towards RED base. BLU Spy was suspicious. That had been too easy, "But I would check in your pocket if I were you."
It was a heavy envelope with 'BLU' written across it in RED's elegant handwriting. He'd not noticed RED putting it there. He slit it open with his knife, feeling RED's eyes on him.
When the photographs came tumbling out he was almost rendered speechless.
"What zee fuck is zhis, Rosso?"
"You were always very interested in photography, non?"
"What are trying to prove?" he shoved the photographs into his pocket for now. The knife stayed in his hand, "Why are you threatening 'im?"
"Maybe it's not a threat. Maybe I am just interested, oui?" RED shrug and incredibly he turned and started walking away again.
"Get back 'ere, RED! Tell me what you are planning, connard! Come back! Come back, Domi!"
Oh. Oh, that had been a mistake. After all these years it was still so easy to make a slip. Dom- RED actually stopped, looking back at his and BLU Spy keep his eyes off him. He didn't want to see whatever smug expression he'd put on. But it was worse. He laughed.
BLU Spy had always had an excellent memory for sounds. Voices, music, languages - oh, languages had been so easy - all of them were filed neatly away into his mind to be summoned at a moments notice. And Domi's - no, RED Spy's laugh was there as well.
That soft, throaty chuckle, sometimes with a little snort that was somehow endearing, inviting a listener to join him... Even after all these years it sent a jolt right down to his groin.
"I shall see you soon, oui? I shall shall see you both soon."
RED Spy walked away under the moonlight.
****
Heavy might have been biased but he did not understand the team when they said Medic was hard to get along with. As far as he was concerned Doktor had likes and dislikes same as any person. Same as any other person once you got to know them he was actually quite easy to get on with.
For example when the morning alarm went off it was always Medic who stirred first. He was quick on the battlefield so naturally, thought Heavy, he was quick to wake up in the mornings. Heavy for his part liked to keep his eyes shut a little longer. Oh, if it were an intruder alarm he would have been up like a shot. Once he'd sat up so quickly he'd accidentally launched Medic across the bed, much to his surprise. Another time he'd been so quick he'd nearly gone without his uniform.
But when it was just the morning call he liked to linger, maybe hug Medic a little tighter. The German would always tut as he groped for his glasses but it was fine. Heavy could read him well enough to know when he was actually annoyed. And there was always that extra minute between Medic getting his glasses then demanding that they get up.
"Liebe. If you vould."
This morning was no different then. He slid his hands up and down Medic's back slowly and the Doctor pushed back with a happy sigh. When Heavy opened his eyes Medic was above him and smiling.
"Good morning, Doktor."
"Guten Morgen," he leant in for a kiss and Heavy was happy to indulge him.
And that was how to wake Medic up in a good mood. Easy really.
Medic rolled off him then. The beds BLU provided were uncomfortably small for one man. To share one resulted in some unusual sleeping arrangements. Heavy took up the whole thing if he lay on his back and should they lie on their sides together there was always the risk of him falling out or Medic accidentally being crushed against the wall. Safest and easiest way was for him to lie on his back with Medic sleeping on top of him. He had to reassure Doktor that he had no problem with serving as his mattress. It was fine - it meant he could always feel him there, a comforting weight on his chest.
He'd brought up the issue of a new bed only once. Maybe BLU could send them a bigger bed, he had said. Might mean they could fight RED better if they weren't so cramped in the night. Medic had said 'nein' immediately. Their sleeping arrangements were adequate. There was no need to get BLU involved with something that was still quite illegal.
They didn't talk about it much. That was fine too. Heavy really didn't want to play a game of 'who had it harder growing up liking men'. There were things that they didn't acknowledge.
For example, after Medic got up he always went to the operating theatre to check his Medigun. Always in his pyjamas before his shower, before anything. And Heavy understood it - he kept a careful eye on Sasha too. While Medic was fussing over charge and wires Heavy would pour out a glass of water for him and leave it on his desk. Giving it to him directly was bad because that was acknowledging it. Leaving it on the desk was better. It could be for anything and anyone that way.
He tried not to be anywhere near the desk when Medic came out of the theatre. He might be tidying away his books or pretending to check on Sasha but one eye would always be on Medic.
The German would sit behind his desk and take the little metal tin out the bottom drawer. He would take two pills from it and set them neatly on the desk. He always did it himself. If handing him the water was bad then actually handling the Doctor's medicine was worse.
Heavy tried his best to help. Sometimes it didn't work. There was a certain scar on Medic, one of a few, a straight white line running from groin to navel. Once, early on in their relationship, they'd been in bed together and he'd gone to lick and kiss it. The reaction he'd gotten had been quite frightening and he considered himself lucky that he'd not just been kicked out immediately. It might have been a little sexy too. Doktor was very handsome when he was angry. But he'd learnt. The scar was something they didn't acknowledge either.
After Medic had swallowed his medicine Heavy couldn't go over to him right away. He might see it as pity. But after Medic had gotten up, after he'd finished his water and cleaned and dried the glass then Heavy could go over.
Today he enfolded the German into a hug, "accidentally" brushing his hand across Medic's stomach, against the single layer of material that lay between him and that scar. He didn't notice. That was good. Medic used to tense at even that little touch.
"Vhat is zis in aid of, meine liebe?" he leant in close, face turned upwards to look Heavy in the eyes. Heavy kissed him,
"Just vant to hold Doktor."
"Und zat is fine," his warm hand, not in its cold rubber glove yet, came up to caress Heavy's stubbly jaw, "but if ve do not go for our shower now zen Scout vill leave us no breakfast."
"Scout is leetle. Cannot eat all the food. Will end up here again."
"Yet he vill try," Medic shook his head ruefully, "Come zen. Let us save Scout from himself," he patted Heavy on the arm and the Russian took the hint and released him. Together they headed for the infirmary shower block.
There were still many things that Heavy had to be careful with concerning Medic. But he was a patient man. And Doktor was worth being patient for.
****
There was nothing as grand as the Gare Montparnasse in Challens though Rene fought the urge to stop and stare. This was Paris and it had sights far more spectacular than this. And besides what could make him look more the country mouse than gawking at a train station. Instead he adjusted his jacket with what was hopefully a nonchalant air and started down the platform, suitcase in both hands.
He had little enough money as it was and he knew a taxi would be expensive. Domi had offered to book a car for him as well as pay for his train ticket. But Rene had refused and he'd fretted over it for days and days, wondering if Domi thought him ungrateful. Thankfully his reply had come with a neat list of directions folded inside the letter.
If you are as stubborn as I remember, my friend, he had written, you will continue to say 'no' for fear of somehow inconveniencing me. And though I may insist again and again you will still do so until we are both quite blue in the face. Luckily my apartment is not so far and you are unlikely to come to harm in broad daylight and on such a well-travelled route. Therefore I will hope for the best and annoy my colleagues with my incessant fretting.
Rene touched the jacket pocket where he had folded the precious letter and its instructions away. Would he recognise Domi when he saw him? Years could change a man quickly. What if the Domi that he remembered from all those years spent inseparable in Challens was different to the Domi that lived in Paris?
Well he couldn't known until he met up with him. His hand - already sweating a little and not just from the summer heat - reached into the pocket for the letter.
It wasn't there. Rene dug about in his pocket then began to frantically pat himself down. He had had it in his pocket! He was sure of it! And it had stayed in his pocket the entire journey. Maybe he'd taken it out once between Le Mans and Chartres to think of Domi but he'd put it back afterwards. Oh God if he had lost them, his only link to Domi... No, he could not think like that. He had most likely just put it into his suitcase.
He knelt and opened it, hands search through his neatly folded clothes. Someone's polished shoes came into the edge of his vision and he turned a little to snap at them-
"You dropped something, my friend."
Oh God. That voice. A shiver went up Rene's spine. Whatever changes Domi had undergone that voice was still the same.
He looked up-
The morning alarm shattered the dream as surely as it had been one of Soldier's rockets. Speaking of which Soldier was already up and banging on doors. He groaned and drew the covers up and over his face.
By his insults Soldier was already passing the doors of Pyro (All-Quiet-on-the-Western-Front) and Demoman (Drunken Scottish Cyclops) and since the Engineer's workshop was past the rest of the living quarters near the Infirmary and Heavy's room went unused that meant-
"RISE AND SHINE, CROUTON!" Spy pulled the pillow over his head as well. No good. He could still hear him, "UP AND AT 'EM! NO MAN IN MY SQUAD IS MISSING THE CHANCE TO FEEL RED BLOOD-"
"We get the bloody picture!" Sniper levered himself up from the bed. Spy had been so sure he had melded with the mattress: he slept so deeply, "Shut up, will yah?"
Soldier made indignant bellows but ultimately continued down the corridor to bother Engineer (Toymaker) and the pair in the Infirmary (the Commie-Nazi Alliance). Sniper flopped back into the pillow.
"Merci, Bushman."
"Ah, he'll forget tomorrow," he nuzzled into the bedding approximately where Spy's head was, "Be back to banging on at us in no time."
"Zhat is our lot in life. To be shouted at by maniacs."
"Least he's enthusiastic?"
"...Oui, maybe. But 'ee is also crazy," Spy unburied his head and rolled onto his back, "You are so optimistic."
Sniper shrugged. For a while it was quiet, with only the muted noises of the team getting up and the distant bellow of Heavy - "We are in shower!" - presumably at Soldier.
"Hey, Spook?"
Spy levered his eyes open again,
"What?"
Sniper kissed him on the temple,
"G'morning, luv." Spy had to smile at that,
"Are you planning on making it good, Bushman?"
"Bloody Spook."
But he kissed him again on the cheek and again on the neck. And for a while Spy could forget all about Soldier and the battle and the photographs of Sniper in his coat pocket.