fic: Trial By Fire (2/4)

[bonnefois]

Title: Trial By Fire (2)
Series: TF2
Character/pairing: Scout/Miss Pauling, ensemble, Administrator, Saxton Hale,
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 7939
Summary: When the mercenary group is suddenly attacked at night by Gray Mann while taking refuge in an old base, Miss Pauling barely escapes the flames with Scout. Soon after she's hit with the realization that this was no accident: there's a traitor in Teufort. With time running out, Gray Mann's armies quickly closing in and everyone a possible suspect, she tries to flush out the mole before everything is lost.
Author's note: The Patriarca family was a real crime syndicate.



No robots had overtaken their mountain base yet, though the sentries and security systems were on high alert. Most of the men had already retired; even Spy had disappeared shortly after their talk, though that was nothing too unusual.

Scout was still up, pacing the length of the hallway. Medic must have gotten to his leg, as even though his pants were charred, he no longer limped.

"Did you need something?" she said.

With talk of traitors, perhaps he had found something as well. She glanced down the hall. She could hear the snoring through creaky, rusted-open doors. There'd been a water leak a few years back here, and though they'd fixed the roof and pipes, the doors had been forgotten in the hundreds of other bases which called away her attention.

She'd have to put that on the list of thousands of things to fix, along with possibly saving the world and keeping everyone alive...everyone who wasn't a traitor, that was.

"Come into my office," she said.

"Your—your office? I mean, aw yeah, your office, that'd be a great--"

"I wouldn't recommend you wake the others. They're cranky enough to splatter you across the ceiling, and we don't have a working Respawn right now," she said.

Scout made a choking noise. She started on without him back towards her office, and he rushed after her.

When he closed the door, he took a deep breath and seemed to be...counting off something on his fingers.

"Scout?" Miss Pauling said.

"Just give me a second," he said. He seemed to mentally rehearse something, complete with more hand gestures, like he was having a conversation with himself. She watched with one eyebrow raised. One thing she could say about him was that he was never boring.

He pulled off his hat, then thinking better of it, put it back on.

"Listen, I gotta say—I just gotta say this. It's like you're under my skin, you know? I just can't get over that, and that kiss–it meant somethin'. I can't stop thinkin' about you, and what it felt like when I thought I might lose you. It's been like this for a while, but now it's like the feeling is stronger. But you----"

She closed her eyes. To think, for a moment she'd thought it might be business related. Obviously she was too tired be rational. When had Scout ever focused on business? She couldn't focus on proximity, or anything beyond this new knowledge, this new treachery. If she left herself unguarded for a moment, it wouldn't just be her life in danger.

"This is hardly the time for that, Scout. The last base was destroyed, we barely escaped with our lives, and I can barely even think of allowing myself some time to sleep, let alone go on a date," she said. It came out more harshly than she intended to. "We aren't winning this war, no matter how hard we fight, and now there's possibility of data leaks—"

She hadn't intended to say the last part. Dammit, she needed sleep before she made anymore stupid mistakes. At twenty-eight hours without sleep, her control was slipping.

"Wait, what?" he said.

"No...Forget I said anything," she said. "I'm exhausted and not thinking clearly at all."

"Data leaks like spy stuff? But--It can't be one of the guys," Scout said. "Unless maybe, the Spy from the other team came back! He was always backstabbin' us--"

She hardly had time to explain the intricacies of what happened to the BLU team. Data splicing, and the deeper meaning of the Respawn machine were classified, and nothing he'd grasp.

"Your team's Spy was the one who informed me of the breach," Miss Pauling said.

"Yeah, we he could've been coverin' up his tracks, did you check to make sure he wasn't wearin' a mask? Wouldn't be the first time that rat bastard snuck in and pretended to be---" Scout said.

She had thought the same, though in different shades. Any of the men could be responsible for this leak. Even the ones who had come to her aid, or who had alerted her to the breaches.

"I can't rule anyone out," she said.

There's no one I can trust.

Scout thrust his thumb to his chest. "You ain't includin' me in this, right? You know I'd never betray you or let you down, right?"

She didn't respond immediately. She was very aware of the fact that he was a hired killer.

But he also was the least wily, and the most likely to show all his emotions, and blurt out every secret. He'd come back for her, stuck until his hands burned and he was chilled in the icy waters.

She relented, ever so much.

"… I assume you weren't involved in this particular piece. You're low on the list of people who would willingly or intentionally betray us. That doesn't mean you weren't used in the ploy, or manipulated into it, or—"

"I wasn't a part of this! Not a damn thing, I'd never do it! You know I'm not like that, right? I'd never hurt you like that, you're important to me and–"

"...I can't deal with relationships or love right now. I'm so tired that I can barely think straight and I shouldn't even be telling you this. If I was in better condition, I wouldn't have," she said.

He drew back like he'd been slapped. "That how it is? I guess I should've—"

A headache was forming at her temple. She rubbed at the ache, but the pounding didn't go away.

"No...I got this. You don't gotta feel alone anymore. You can trust me," Scout said, soft and far more restrained than his usual self. He looked sad and solemn, like he'd aged years right before her eyes.

"Scout—"

"No, listen...I can't say I'm sorry, because it'd be a lie. I ain't sorry for tellin' you all that. I ain't sorry for feelin' like this until it's like every other word that comes out of my mouth is how damn beautiful I find you, how wonderful you are, how much I care. But, now ain't the time for that, so I'll be your back up, 'cause it sure sounds like you need it," he said. "No flirtin', No...dates, or askin', or anythin'." There was little hint of his joking, carefree ways.

"I'll do whatever you need. I'll keep you safe, and when this is all over, I'll ask you again one last time, cause I fucked up again and asked at the wrong time. And if you say no that time, then I'll never ask you again. All right? Cross my heart."

He held out his hand, pinkie extended past the bloodied bandages of his burned hands. She thought Medic would've healed him, but it was possible he hadn't gone to the infirmary, for he was too busy rehearsing the words he'd say to her.

"Pinkie promise. Swear on my ma," he said.

Scout wasn't quite the ideal ally. He wasn't the strongest, most professional, and more than once his loquaciousness had gotten him in trouble with his superiors. He could be trusted to repeat anything to anyone within a ten mile radius in his bragging, especially if a girl was involved.

But he was all she had. And she had to take that chance.

She reached out and entwined her pinkie with his.

"Okay, where do we start?"

"We both get some sleep," she said. "I'll tell you in the morning."

"Oh yeah, sleep. I forgot about that. Good night, Miss Pauling," he said.

He paused at the door, and caught himself before he spoke. Catching whatever flirtation, or sweet words he had with her to a quiet resignation.


*

The first order was getting away from possible bugs, and to get supplies. He smiled big when she first told him to come with her, nearly tripping over his feet in his enthusiasm to get up from the communal couch. Before he fell, he remembered, and kept just far enough apart. No flirting comments, nothing but endless spiels about the weather.

He'd chatted on during the drive with forced levity. She nodded occasionally, but mostly let him talk. She waited until they were far from the base, where listening devices or someone cloaked could overhear. Parked in behind the bakery wasn't the worst place for a secret mission, she supposed. Supplies were getting more expensive in this region, which had been hit harder by the robot war. She'd authorized far worse dents to Mann co. than some Wonder bread and baloney.

"You goin' to tell me this mission, or leave me wonderin'? Cause I been thinkin' about it most of the night---when I wasn't passed out, that is," Scout said.

She rolled up both windows. Through her work, she'd learned how to subtly check for those out of the ordinary, or too ordinary. She leaned in and kept her voice low.

"I was thinking of planting some false evidence, and see how Gray Mann reacts to it. Each one tested would get a different made up fact, which would supposedly bring us to our knees.

It wasn't foolproof, but she didn't have much to work with at this point. If she could narrow it down, well, it would be a start.

"Oh, sort of like when your friends keep bein' dense, and so you send flowers to both of them and say that the other sent it," Scout said. "Then findin' out that they think it's a prank and havin' it blow up in your face, and then you're chased by shotguns!"

"Not quite," she said.

"So, I gotta just—What, exactly?"

"Keep your ears open. Tell me everything that happens, even if seems inconsequential," she said.

Even if he wasn't suited for stealth missions, he had his many skills which could not only be helpful, but turn the tide of the war. He was quick, skilled in armed combat, and the men were prone to underestimating him, especially his intelligence.

"When I tell you, you'll start spreading rumors. Not to everyone, mind you. We'll pick a controlled test, and only pass one of the false data packages along. Then we'll narrow it down."

"Hard to believe any of the guys would be backstabbin' us," Scout said. He chewed on his lip.

"We've not narrowed it down to the men. It could be someone in upper management, one of the assistants, or someone else entirely," she said.

He looked relieved. He showed his feelings so clearly on his face, she still wondered how he'd manage to pull off a stealth mission of all things. Then again, she could use that to her advantage. Everyone who knew him had underestimated him, even her.

"That doesn't mean they're cleared of suspicion yet," she said.

"Don't worry, I'll clear them. They wouldn't do anythin' like that. You don't know them like I do, but you'll see."

His belief could very well break whatever data she could glean.

"Promise you won't keep anything back. If you trust them, then you can hardly do your work exposing which person is betraying us---"

"No, wait, I---I'll do it," Scout said.

"You have to be serious and committed about it, Scout. No second-guessing because he's your teammate. No leaving out details because it'd make them look bad," she said.

"I choose you," Scout said.

"You can't call your mother until this is all over. You've never been good at keeping secrets from her, and I can't have you exposing all of this with one careless phone call," she said.


"Not even my ma?" He said, his voice breaking. She kept her gaze straight on the road in front of her. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, her jaw set. She'd hurt people far more than this in her life. Wrecked families, left thousands of mothers who never saw their children come back home.

"It's only temporary," she said.

"But she'll worry. I ain't missed the check ins since I first got here, not a single day," he said.

The edges of her nails were cracked and broken. She could just see an edge of bloodstain from under the flaking purple nail polish.

"Don't worry; I'll call her and make up something. A power line failure that knocked out the service for miles. I'll make sure she doesn't have a reason to worry."

"'All right," he said. He didn't talk again, with a deeper sense of defeat than she'd even seen in him. Even losses, rejections didn't cut this deep. She was peeling away all his hope and love, boiling it from his bones until the marrow was pulled thick and through.

She'd lost all lingering traces of bonds and trust in one strike, when Spy's papers had hit her desk. His was slower, more painful. He trusted the most of the mercs, and all the people he shouldn't. He trusted Soldier even as he broke his arms and choked him, he trusted her when she could be ordered to kill him at any moment.

The desert passed by, blended as they went. She saw him changed in side glances she didn't want to see, that puckish smile erased to a thin, sour line. A furrow, new lines which showed the growing age his exuberance always belied.

"What next?" Scout said. His voice was flat, though he tried to fake it, to fake a smile. He never was very good at lying.

"I'll draw up a plan of attack. You'll sow misinformation, and we'll see how Gray Mann reacts. Who you speak to first is your choice."

He nodded. For a second, it seemed like he'd add some quip, but he thought better of it. The binds of his promise pulling him back.

She turned the radio on to a news station, but it was just for sound. Anything to fill the glaring silence, a sound more indicative of his anguish than any scream.

*

The hood of his van was up. Sniper was always tinkering away at his van, slow enough that it'd take all day. Just him, his tools and his beer. Scout kept him company sometimes, when he wasn't chasing after some girl, or running until his lungs felt about ready to burst. Spy never came to dirty greasy garages, though Engie would sometimes show up with just the tools Sniper needed without even being asked.

Sniper took another sip of coffee, and grimaced. "I have got to get that coffeemaker fixed," he said.

Scout was nursing his one beer, not just because there wasn't that much alcohol stockpiled- he got drunk faster than he would've liked, fast enough that Demoman had given him plenty of nicknames. Two-shot Tommy, among them.

"So, the girls in Australia, right? Is it true they bench press cars?" Scout said.

"Some of 'em," Sniper said.

Scout wrinkled his nose. "Man, I don't even know if that's hot, terrifying, or both at once."

Sniper snickered. "Not everyone can take an Australian girl."

"Hey, hey, I could take that. I could take everythin' if I wanted," Scout said.

"Oh? Here I thought you were chasin' after Miss Pauling, guess you weren't serious after all," Sniper said.

"I'm serious as hell, but I got eyes. Anyways, she ain't ignorin' me, she's busy. But she's totally seen me kick ass all over the games and seen me shirtless, so it's only a matter of time before she has free time. I mean, sure the last five years runnin' crap has happened so she missed it, but one of these days. Bam, free time."

"Mmm-hhhmm," Sniper said.

"She totally is!" Scout said again, more defensive. Sniper's attention was elsewhere, as he dug out a cigarette from his pack.

"So, anyways, what the hell is up with these robots? I read one of those papers that fall out sometimes---"

"Mate, readin' papers around here will get you killed. Only the stupid bloody spies got enough nerve to try that." He stopped for a beat and sipped his beer. "And you, apparently."

"Hey, you know me, thrivin' on danger, livin' on the edge." Scout leaned back, his arms spread out. "So, these papers? I hear he's going to patent a sex bot,"

Sniper rolled his eyes. "You would read that paper, mate," he said.

"And behind that, I thought he said improved tanks, maybe with like lasers or somethin’, " Scout said. "One with heat-seekin' missles or somethin' like. You heard about that."

Scout didn't quite know what he was looking for. Some kind of a twitch, a give that he'd caught the traitor, even if he didn't want to think about his teammates as possible traitors. But Sniper just took another long sip of beer.

"You got some imagination, mate, " Sniper said.

"Oh, and there's talk of them changin' the password. That 1111 shit? Way too easy to crack. In fact, it should be in by next Thursday, I think," Scout said.

"Good luck havin' Soldier remember anythin' else, he can barely remember that one," Sniper said carelessly. Scout couldn't take anything at face value anymore. He was living in Miss Pauling's world now, where all the mercenaries and orderlies were under constant scrutiny, and could be enemies at any moment.

"Take a drink, mate. You seem all wound up. You got pretty close to bein' a campfire smore back there," Sniper said.

Scout always knew he couldn't lie too well, he couldn't keep secrets. But he'd have to figure out a way to fake it until he could learn better. He'd faked things before. Evidence, confidence, even relationships, though that hadn't gone too well---his ma had seen right through it. Come to think of it, Spy probably ratted him out.

"I'll take one for the road. Miss Pauling asked me to deliver somethin' for her," Scout said, unable to keep the pride from his voice.

"Maybe you'll catch her eye yet," Sniper said. He lifted his bottle to a non-existent toast. Glasses clinked, and for a fleeting moment, Scout wondered if there was something in there. He couldn't let Sniper see the distrust, so he quickly downed the beer. Too quickly, like a beginner, he choked and coughed.

"Right little hairless dandy you are," Sniper said. "Maybe one of these days you'll learn how to drink like a real man."

"Oh, fuck off," Scout said.

Sniper just laughed it off. He never took anything Scout said to heart. It was half their friendship, and half their fights---or at least Scout swearing at him while Sniper ignored him, if that could count for fighting.

The guy couldn't stand spies. Every damn day it was more shit about how spies smelled, spies sucked, and some more choice insults. He couldn't imagine Sniper ever being the one to betray them all.

But he couldn't let his personal feelings go too deep until he and Miss Pauling were out of this. It was like his skin had been shed, all his innocence left on the floor. He checked his gun to make sure it had enough ammo as he left. He could never be too sure when he might need it.

*

"Hey, Spy, wait up---"

Scout rushed through the metallic halls, just a few paces behind Spy. Even if he disappeared, Spy couldn't outrun him. Spy sighed in irritation and turned around. Lines marked what little of his face wasn't covered by his balaclava. Somehow, it seemed like he'd aged more, like the Respawn wasn't doing as well for him as it should.

Scout couldn't tell if it was just his paranoia. Now every offhand gesture or word from the guys was suspect.

"Go on, tell the entire team and five towns away your plans," Spy said.

"I wanted to catch you before you got away, and you didn't hear me the first time, even though I yelled pretty loud. Maybe you need a hearin' aid," Scout said.

"I was ignoring you. A hard concept for you to understand, I know, but not everyone wants to hear your constant diarrhea of the mouth." He flicked his cigarette ashes to the floor. Miss Pauling would have his hide if she ever caught Spy pulling something like that.

"Oh, because you got soo much better things to do than talk to me, huh?" Scout said. He instinctively started to reach back for his bat, and just barely stopped himself.

"You're hovering again," he said. He blew smoke right in Scout's face. It took everything within him not to tackle him right to the ground and show him how a boy from the projects did things, far away from Spy's fancy guns and skullduggery.

"Meet me outside, I got somethin' I wanna ask you in private," Scout said.

Spy looked him over, and turned away, like he'd been found wanting. Scout bristled, again just barely holding back the urge to smack him one on his smug face.

"Listen, I don't got a lot. They ain't payin' much right now with all this robot war shit goin' on, but I'll at least throw somethin' your way. I ain't goin' to ask for little favors, it'll be worth your while."

"I sincerely I doubt that," Spy said. Nobody did condescension like this guy. Even as he wanted to break his nose just to hear the satisfaction of his bones snapping, Scout had to admit that.


"Regardless, You have five minutes of my time, no more. Meet me at the bend in the tree," Spy said.

Then he disappeared. Poof, a shimmer, a cloud of smoke. Through it all, Scout was glad for two things: that he would get a run in, and that he wouldn't have to talk to Spy along the way. If he snapped, if he let it all out, this would be all over. All he had to do was keep his temper for a little longer.

Running always made things a little better. His heart rate would spike, everything would be a little more in line. He mentally reminded himself to put in another run after this. All he had to do was sow a few more seeds of information and report back. No matter what the mission entailed, Scout couldn't let himself get out of shape. He'd need every reflex, every burst of speed if he wanted to get them out of this.

The steepness provided another challenge. He smirked to himself as he climbed. If he couldn't punch the old man out, at least he'd leave Spy in his dust. The trees got thicker up here, mostly pine, as the base became little more than a speck in the distance. The clean, fresh air was a real luxury after the hellishness that was the remains of that base they'd just left. Ashes, dust and gravel. It was all Gray Mann's now.

Somehow, Spy was already waiting for him there. Smoking like he wanted to create some kind of forest fire. Scout wondered, not for the first time, if Spy knew how to teleport.

"Your clock starts now. Remember, I've killed people over less," he said.

"My ma, I'm real worried about her. I can't call home at all," Scout said.

Her trusted Miss Pauling, of course, but....

Once his ma had told him if you need anythin', just go to him. The man in red who had handed him that first pamphlet, the man without a name. He'd seen the guy five times before he came to Mann co, but the old geezer didn't even remember him.

He pulled out an envelope from his duffle bag. "If somethin' happens to me, give this to her. It ain't got nothin' incriminatin', just...I wanted to write a goodbye in case I, you know. Kicked it. Got pretty close last time, not sure if I can keep it up if Respawn keeps like this."

Spy held out a gloved hand. He took the envelope with a gesture cloaked as casual indifference. And yet, the he treated it with the utmost care.

"As soon as my paycheck comes, you can get it all, I don't care," Scout said.

"Don't insult me, you don't even take away enough to pay for one of my suits," Spy said.

Scout swallowed, words stuck on his tongue. Spy knew he sent most everything home, leaving himself just a little off the top to have some fun with. He shouldn't be surprised; Spy knew what everyone was doing.

"Okay then, who's the backstabber if you know so damn much?"

"She told you?" he said.

Scout clenched his fist at that. Like it'd be so damn surprising that she'd even pay him any mind, let alone trust him.

"Yeah, I'm her right hand man, and I'm goin' to beat down anyone who gets in her way. You got a problem with that?" Scout demanded.

"If you're going to work in stealth, you're going to have to curb your habit of running your mouth whenever possible."

"Go to hell, Spy," he said.

"In case you missed last night, we're already there," Spy said.

That shut him up. If the big guy and doc hadn't come any sooner, he'd have been little more than ashes and bones. Even everything Miss Pauling had tried wasn't enough to take down.

They needed to be sticking together more than anything now.
"That's it, just take care of that if it ever comes to puttin' what's left of me in a coffin'," Scout said.

"And if you die, she'll never recover," he said. "So don't throw your life away carelessly."

She never explained who he was. Hanging around their house like a guardian angel of death. When Andy had gotten too deep in debt with the Patriarca family, Spy had come in and saved them. The cops never even found the bodies, though anyone born in Southie knew the cops were no friends.

But Spy never talked about it, and always treated him like an annoying piece of shit. Drove him up the wall, and sometimes Scout thought that might be half of why he did it.

They surveyed each other suspicion and barely concealed anger. He could bash Spy's head in, probably push him down the mountain. He'd come out of Respawn mad as hell and ignore anything Scout ever asked again, so Scout left those urges to mere thoughts.

Scout was the one who broke the silence; he always was.

"Look, I never called in anythin' with you back then. Even if you like to pretend that you weren't there, you ain't an easy guy to forget. Not many fancypants French guys reekin' of cigarettes down in the projects. You might be a dirty backstabbin' rat, but you ain't goin' to do anythin' to get me too dead. I saw that night with Andy. You about looked like someone knifed you in the gut when she was cryin' at the table," Scout said.

Spy didn't respond immediately. It wasn't annoyance in his face, but something deeper, and harder to read.

"And surely you've told Miss Pauling about how harmless I am," Spy said.

"Nah, you ain't off that easy. I barely got her to listen to me. I start tryin' to say anyone is innocent and she'll say I ain't worth it and she don't need no help."

"You got a lead?" Scout asked.

"None," Spy said. "Whoever has infiltrated us is far beyond the skill level of anything we've ever seen."

"Great, just what I needed to hear," Scout said.

It wasn't exactly hope inspiring to hear from the best and most experienced of the whole lot.
He held out his hand to bum a cigarette. For a second, he wondered if he'd have to translate the gesture he thought universal, but Spy pulled out his case.

Scout wasn't any good at smoking, but he just wanted a little comfort. The first hit left him gasping. He bent over, about hacking up his lungs. He felt the soft touch of Spy patting his back. For once, he wasn't insulting him. Looking up at this angle through a haze of smoke, he almost looked something like benevolent.

A trick of the smoke, Scout figured.



*

Scout had been feeding little bits of information for weeks now. She'd caught pieces of his lies, which only got better as he worked. She almost wondered if he'd been getting help; he had spent time off-camera with Spy, after all. His improv notes to the script sure were something, though it added to the disbelief, his veil of innocent ignorance which just might keep them both alive.

They had spent the next two weeks making repairs. She was waiting Gray Mann out. Surrounded by mountains, with only a narrow path for the robots to make their assault. When it happened, they would walk straight into the many stationary guns she'd been ordering Engineer to construct. Even with the possibility that he was a traitor, she had to still rely on some of them. They were the crux of the defense and offense, and all that was keeping Gray Mann from breaking down her doorstep.

This time she would be ready.

Though, she smiled a bit for the first time in hours. He'd gone busy, making up ideas of a flying car to Engineer, who had actually paid attention, then a secret hidden among fanciful ideas.


In Scout's defense, even though half his ideas were obviously cribbed from comic book plots, some of them were true. She might have even been suspicious, if he hadn't gone on for five minutes about Wonder Woman, and how if Miss Pauling herself ever donned a suit like that, the war would be as good as won.

The bait was set. All they could do was wait for Gray Mann to find them next. She looked over the wall of screens.

The left wing had a broken camera. She frowned at the screen as it faded into static. The screen righted itself. She made a mental note to have Engineer and several assistants check for rust in the computer mainframe.

She began to sift through the papers. Something had alerted their location. Mentally, she put it on the list to ask Scout's assistance to help her sift through the clothes of the other mercenaries. Perhaps they had been mistaken all along. It wasn't an inside effort, a traitor, but a listening device which had gotten into their things.

She had to consider every option.

Miss Pauling hadn't checked in with the Administrator for days. At first it had been the sheer lack of phone lines and reception, but now it was the growing paranoia and distrust of every shadow. Were the rooms bugged as well? Not even her devices could be trusted, let alone the majority of her coworkers.

She pushed the call button. Richard---the oldest of the assistants and orderlies. Nothing but static flickered over the call. She screen was a wave of gray. She pulled out her handgun, aware of every sound as she searched the room. She pushed the button again, this time to contact the mercenaries. A dead sound, a blip.

Miss Pauling kept her back to the wall as she moved through the winding tunnels. Only the hum of machinery greeted her as she entered the password into the main power supply room.

She noticed the trail of blood. Lying in front of the machinery was the one orderly who'd managed to survive living in Mann co and never got the destroy order. A Balisong protruded from his back, deep and twisted in a pool of blood. A sapper flickered at the top of a generator. She tore away the sapper, stomping it into the floor with her heels.

It wasn't completely destroyed. With some work, Engineer could fix it. Here was her traitor after all. For all Scout's work, he'd fallen right into his own hubris. Back to the wall, she held her gun at ready. But it wasn't close enough to keep her from being pushed forward, the knife driven deep into her back.

Miss Pauling fell across the floor. The last image that crossed her mind was the door opening, and a shriek of anguish calling her name.


*

When he heard the sound, he didn't go to warn the guys, he went straight for her. The hallways were lost to her name and the pounding of his pulse, his feet on the metal floor. But for all his speed, for all those years of forcing himself to be faster than anyone else, he wasn't fast enough. The control room was empty static. The papers out of order, her chair left out of place. His mind circled over and over, trying to figure out where she would've hidden. He'd passed by the communal room, and even her office, and hadn't seen the shadow of her there. Power, power, static...

The power room! He'd never been there himself, but if something had gone wrong, more often than not Miss Pauling would do the job herself. He charged through the desolate halls, like some B movie sci-fi nightmare of robots and machines. All he could think about was her as his heart beat, as each breath came faster in the run.

He came to an open door, far too high security to ever be left open, and a slick trail of oil and blood. For a second, she saw the glowing blue eyes of the Spy Robot standing above a girl in purple stained in red.

When the Spy disappeared, a cloud of smoke and robotic laughter, he pulled out his bat. A gun wasn't personal enough. He wouldn't get to feel bones breaking with a gun. He wouldn't get to wipe it down, the chunks of hair and blood, and the last savored memory of his kill.


The room had only one window, bolted tight. The door was behind him, close enough that the robot would have to push him out of the way.

"Come on out, you son of a bitch," he said.

He swung in the air, the sound of air and force doing nothing to lessen the tight knot inside his chest. A crunch of metal, a broken shield, smoke rising. He hit the robot hard enough to slam it against the wall, but that wasn't enough. He kneed the chest of it, metal crunch and the own sickening pain to remind him that he was still alive when he shouldn't be. He lost himself in each hit, until there was a little less thoughts and a little less of the long held back scream. He only stopped when the Spy robot was a mass of twisted sparking metal. It offered no release, no comfort. Even with her avenged, it didn't make any difference.

He felt for a pulse at her neck, but felt nothing. Her skin was still warm. His fingers were caked in her blood. Her blood. The screaming feeling, the knot of everything that was so wrong returned full force. What semblance of calm he'd gained from his violence was torn away, like a reopened scar. Newly healed flesh ripped away and raw to the air.

"Miss Pauling," he gasped. "Miss Pauling!"

He pulled her into his arms, struggling with the slick feeling of her blood her blood on his hands.

"Come on, you can't be....no, no. I—I could get doc. He'll make this all right," he said. "Just hold on until then, Miss Pauling, I'll make this right---"

Blood on his hands. He choked back words and I love yous and so much begging. Don't go, don't go, no not you, not Miss Pauling, anyone but her, please stay, please come back---

Scout pushed the door open with his hip. The wires were cut and sparking, the electronic lock turned dark. He rushed through the hallways. His cries for help echoed, but no response came. The lights had gone off in this part, wires hung cut from the ceiling. Several of the ceiling tiles were fallen and broken on the floor, with spots of oil like fingerprints dripping from above.

He made it to the infirmary, only to find it empty, save for birds. Nestled above, they considered him, cooing and tilting their heads. One of them had edges of red to its feathers, and a beak stained with blood.

Where the hell was the Doc?

Scout craned his neck. "This really ain't a time for playin' hide and seek, Doc!"

He quickly pushed open the doors to the back, where Medic kept all his secret needles and creepy doctor stuff. Other than some organs in jars and a whole bunch of birds, there was nothing.

In his haste, he knocked over several of the metal sharp things, glass breaking across the floor. She looked even worse in the brighter light of the operating table.

"Listen, I'll—I'll be right back. I'll get him, and it'll be okay—I promise."

Because he couldn't fathom a world she wasn't in. He couldn't even thin that she couldn't be saved. The world without her was a dark room, a nothingness until there was only the screaming in his head, a swirling unending chaos.

His voice had gone hoarse from yelling, but he kept calling. He couldn't imagine a world which she wasn't in. He'd probably he'd watch her back. He'd promised.

Scout all but body slammed through the doors of what amounted to a living room. Thankfully, there wasn't a lot of furniture here, or he would've crashed face-first into something. As it was, he barely caught his fall.

"Doc, doc! Doc, please, you gotta—you gotta do somethin'! She can't be—"

The TV was busted with bullet holes through the screen, though none of the men would admit it. Heavy sat in the big armchair, reading some book Scout couldn't read the title of.

Medic looked up from his cards. A Victrola played on the floor beside him. Several empty beer bottles littered the ground, with several crates of Scrumpy piled up behind them. All this had been happening, and the alarm hadn't even rung, nobody had even known.

"Doc," Scout said, his voice choked. "Please, you gotta fix her."

Medic pushed aside his cards, and rose. "I'll see what I can do. Continue without me," Medic said.

But Demoman and Soldier had pushed their cards aside as well. Heavy joined them, his reading glasses fallen down low on his nose.

"We have attack?" Heavy said. His low growl of a voice matched the keening song of a woman singing about her lover dying on a gloomy Sunday.

"I don't know, I don't know, I just—"

Medic touched Scout's shoulder. "Calm yourself. The rest of you, check the perimeter."

A grim silence had fallen, with only the woman's death song to break the quiet. He should've thought of that, he should've taken charge. Should've, should've, should've. If he'd been there, she wouldn't have gotten hurt. He shouldn't have left her side.

Scout shifted from foot to foot as he watched Medic begin his examination. Medic felt her pulse, letting his hands linger there for a moment, before shaking his head.

"But, doc, you got all that healing gun and stuff. You---you gotta be able to fix her. You gotta."

"I'm afraid I never made the proper altercations. Her body would never survive the Medigun. Once the force of the beam hit her, it would burst her heart."

The intense break, the all-consuming sadness came over him again. Like a dark weight dragging him down into the depths. He'd gone through a lot of life. Seen his friends and family come back from the war in caskets.

"What, you're sayin' she's....she's really gone? It can't, she can't---"

"I'm afraid so," Medic said. He took off his glasses to clean the blood from them. Scout looked at him and wondered was he the lyin' cheat?"

And now he knew more than ever that she was right, it was one of them. There was no damn way a robot could've slipped past if it hadn't had inside info. It cut deep, long past the skin. They'd failed, he'd failed. He'd promised to keep her safe, to find out whoever was behind this, and he was no closer now than before. If she knew, she hadn't told him. Probably hadn't even trusted him.

He'd told Miss Pauling he chose her, but he'd let her down. Somehow he'd missed something, been so fucking stupid that he'd let their plans show enough.

In this room someone was a traitor. One of them had sold out Miss Pauling, though the mere thought boggled. How could anyone want to hurt her?

Scout gripped white knuckle tight, until his nails dug into his skin. His fist shook as the swirling chaos in his mind took over, like static loud that he forgot the sound of her voice and everything but that last moment, her body broken and bloodied, left to rot by Gray Mann's minions.

Medic closed her eyes with his thumb. A sheet was laid over his arm, stained with other people's blood, mostly the people he'd failed. Patients he'd fucked off, people he'd experimented on. He pushed forward, pushed Medic away from her. He hit hard enough to almost make him lose his balance. Doves flew up, startled. Medic reached out, just barely steadying himself on the infirmary light.

He pulled her to his chest, shielded her from everyone who would give up on her, toss her aside. Her skin was still warm. If he listened, he could almost imagine that she breathed and it wasn't just an echo of his own breath.

"She ain't your damn Medical waste, you ain't goin' to go dump her in a friggin' ditch like she's nothin' more than your---your experiments!"

He hadn't noticed that the rest of the mercenaries were in there behind him. But as he whirled, all he saw was potential killers. Any one of them could've ratted her out. They looked grotesque, bloodied and spattered with oil from fighting the robots.

"One of you did this, and I'm goin' to make you frickin' pay!" He held one bloodied fist up, and jerked his gaze from each mercenary. "I'll start bashin' heads in until somebody talks—"

"It was a robot, you said so yourself," Engineer said. "There was nothin' we could do."

"No! She knew one of you was betrayin' her. One of you is a filthy liar, and I'm goin' to make it up to her. I-I couldn't protect her like I promised, but I won't let her work go undone—" His voice cracked as the secret came out. He didn't even care anymore.

"Boy, you can barely stand—"

"Don't frickin' care. I–I'll do it. I'll do it right after I...take care of this. I'll bury her. Any of you dare follow me, and I'll smash your head in—"

"You are not only one who will mourn her," Heavy said.

He turned slow, then struck quick, fast enough that Heavy barely saw the hit connect. He had to reach up on tiptoe to try and grab his collar, but the asshole's damn gut and thickness got in the way.

"What did you say? What did you say, you son of a bitch? I'll beat your face right in, I swear to—"

Engineer stepped between them. Punches were held back, just barely. Scout was tense, ready to snap at anyone, anything.

"Settle down, now," Engineer said. "We all respected her. Some of us saw her as close as kin."

"I love her! Loved....."

His voice already felt hoarse from the screaming, but he couldn't stop. He welcomed the ache; it'd just bring him a little closer to her. He couldn't bear the past tense, even as she hung limp in his arms. He had barely gotten to hold her in life. Had gotten that one kiss on the edge of death.

He turned, rage falling back to sadness. He buried his face into his sleeve as the first sob came. He couldn't stop them as the first scream came, rage and sadness burning through him. He could still smell her perfume. Her skin was still faintly warm, but she wasn't breathing and she wasn't ever going to wake up and tell him to settle down or look at him or smile ever again.

He felt a hand against his back, but he shrugged it off. He clung tighter to her body, and shielded her from the world.

"Let him go," Spy said.

He looked back and saw only solemn regret in Spy's face. The other men had blurred past the tears he couldn't quite keep at bay.

"Spy, she----She's....." He couldn't complete the sentence, couldn't allow himself to think of her as gone, even as he made plans to bury her.

"I know," Spy said.

"I---I couldn't," He choked out. "I couldn't do anythin' at all."

Spy didn't reply. There was nothing to be said. He'd failed, and that's all there was.

"Listen, Spy, don't forget our deal," Scout said. He didn't look back.

"Don't be foolish, just because---"

"And you wouldn't do the same? Don't you fuckin' lie to me, I saw you that day. I may not know who the hell you are, or who you are to her, but don't you dare act like you wouldn't do the same damn thing."

"And her tears mean nothing to you?" Spy said.

His breath caught in his throat. His ribs felt like they were being pulled apart. His whole body torn apart at the seams. He didn't reply, just kept on walking through the halls. No one called out after him. The gates closed behind him. The weight in his chest was so heavy, he hardly noticed the weight of her lifeless body up the incline.

"I'm goin' to avenge you," he said, though his voice was shaking. "Not just that Robot Spy, but Gray Mann, and every other robot. I'll kill whatever fucker turned on us–he won't stand a damn chance. I-I promise that to you, Miss P." His vision blurred and he didn't see the men around him, or her body. He wished his feelings could go like that. Into nothingness until the steady tearing inside him would quit.

He'd held her to his chest and just rocked out there in the heat. The dirt stuck to his blood-slick hands. He brushed her cheek and wished for warmth, for her to wake up and tell him everything was all right.

No pulse, no breath, nothing.

He couldn't lie to himself forever. Only when he felt faint from the heat did he force himself to let her go and start digging. He'd scraped at the hardscrabble rocky dirt until his hands had blistered and bled, until his blood mixed with hers.