#i hope you're all still excited for it regardless of the comic part being later. I swear everything i have planned will still happen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetriggeredhappy · 4 years

Note

Yo once again I LOVE your work and your writing style is stupendous my dude. If you're still taking requests, I was wondering if you could write a drabble about one of the more emotionally strong members of the team (medic, engie, spy, etc.) having an absolute b r e a k d o w n and how the others deal with it. Once again, you're a national treasure and I hope you're safe in these trying times!!

i think “national treasure” is one of my favorite compliment phrases just because i literally can’t think of it without also thinking of nic cage. maybe he’ll come by to steal me away from the fucking horrific sleep schedule that resulted in me writing i think actually none of this before 3 AM

(this is like 7k words, warnings for mention of medic doing medic things, mention of violence, possible trigger warnings for drug use, drug misuse, and overdose, and mention of problems with eating and sleeping)

It was a quiet, slow, creeping thing, right up until the moment that it wasn’t. Something that might have eventually been noticed in a way besides in hindsight, but it wasn’t, not until it was almost grotesquely unavoidably obvious. Some might describe it as tragic, but Heavy would mostly just describe it as a personal failing that he didn’t notice and intervene sooner.

He should’ve noticed that the dark circles under Medic’s eyes were getting darker, from simple marks of age to a signifier that perhaps he’d been too invested in his work to go to sleep on time for a night or two and then at some point to so dark they might have been mistaken for bruises.

He should’ve noticed that Medic’s posture had shifted from crisp and ramrod-straight to looser and lower, his movements changing from confident if erratic to downright jerky and unnatural. Rather than cheering and shouting his excitement with the rest of the team to join the fray and jump into battle, he had started simply telling them to hurry up, barking out his usual warnings with less humor and lightheartedness or even comical levels of borderline maternal concern, instead frantic at best and angry at worst.

He should’ve noticed that Medic was spending less time crooning and having one-sided humorous dialogues with his birds when Heavy was in the room, spending less time paying attention to the birds in general, silent and almost too-still, face locked in a tight lack of expression.

To be fair, he did notice before the major fallout itself occurred, albiet so very shortly before. He noticed the fact that Medic showed up to battle with his trademark crisp white coat in a much more ruffled and rumbled condition, his hair slightly out of order and his glasses slightly dirty and smudged. And then he noticed and realized all those other things one after another, with mounting concern, but then battle was starting and he had no time to address it.

After battle he’d forgotten for a while, preoccupied by other thoughts of other things, and only remembered it later that night, at which point he considered his options for a long while before eventually deciding to follow his gut and go check on Medic.

The hallway before the infirmary was entirely silent and very dim, late evening settling into view across the base, the general chaos the team tended to create starting to subside in the wake of sunset.

Usually, Medic could be assumed to be up to any number of things, but most often a specific few. Working on getting black market animal organs, or doing basic caretaking for his multitude of doves, or working with some cadaver or other probably bloody experiment. Every once and a while he was locked away in the room offshooting from the infirmary that was likely meant to be used as a ward, brewing up more of the healing vapor he used in his Medigun (the recipe and process of which was a very closely guarded secret).

But oddly enough, this time he had out chemistry equipment.

Heavy hesitated at the door. Usually Medic would acknowledge him—or anyone else entering his space—the moment they showed up, always very aware of any given space that he was in. But he remained hunched over whatever he was working on.

Heavy stood there for a few moments, observing a series of other things that weren’t quite right since suddenly his attention was on it. For one thing, his birds weren’t crowded up around him and his work, and were instead all up among the rafters, practically out of sight and very quiet. For another, Medic hadn’t even taken off his coat and gloves, something usually standard for him once he was in his lab space. And often Medic had music playing and spoke quickly and quietly to himself or his patient or his birds as he worked, but instead now he was silent.

Heavy moved forward carefully, slowly, navigating his way towards Medic as well as he could. Glanced over what Medic was working on—something with test tubes, something being portioned out, maybe. In the harsh light of the overhead, his dark circles seemed so much more pronounced.

Medic finally seemed to take notice of him in his periphery and jolted bodily, flinching back with a sharp yelp of panic. He practically tripped over himself as he reared away, and Heavy flinched too in shock and surprise as Medic’s flailing ended up knocking beakers and test tubes and measuring implements alike to the ground to shatter, and in only a few seconds the area had gone to one of calm and silence and light disarray to glass shards and spilled chemicals and Medic holding his bonesaw up before himself defensively, back pressed to the counter, eyes wide and chest heaving, looking entirely like a caged animal.

It took Medic a few seconds too long to visibly shake off his panic and fear, blinking a few times to orient himself again, glancing around their immediate area with clear embarrassment. “Ah, Heavy,” he managed, voice wobbling a little, unable to meet Heavy’s eyes. “I... did not hear you enter. You startled me.”

“Heavy noticed,” he said slowly, still surprised but trying very hard not to sound too terribly judging about it.

Medic put his bonesaw back down with a shaking hand, straightening up, belatedly noticing the mess he’d made in his moment of panic, across the floor and across himself. “Did you... need something?” he asked, visibly disoriented and rattled but clearly trying to seem more composed.

“Just... to check on you,” Heavy said, tone even and calm.

“I don’t need checking up on, Heavy,” Medic said, speaking just a touch too quickly and still not entirely meeting his eyes.

“Is just that Doktor has been acting strange and Heavy worries,” he elaborated carefully, gesturing at himself loosely. “About team and about friends especially.”

“It is appreciated but entirely unnecessary thank you,” Medic said firmly, and still, still wouldn’t look at Heavy, eyes locked on the broken glass between them, and Heavy was having a little trouble reading his expression. It was something strange and new, something he hadn’t seen Medic wearing before, but finally he managed to place what emotion he was displaying, and it caught him by surprise.

Something like guilt.

Heavy looked over the remainder of the setup that Medic had been working with, this time more critically. “What is this?” he asked simply, gesturing at the surviving parts of whatever the experiment or project was and the glass on the floor.

Medic flinched a little at the question. “A personal project. Of no concern to you,” he said, voice clipped.

“Maybe a little concern to me,” Heavy tried, an attempt at a joke. “As your friend.”

“Of no concern to you,” Medic repeated, voice migrating from clipped directly over into blatantly cold.

Heavy blinked at it, a stab of hurt worming into his chest and making his expression fall. His jaw went tight. “Fine,” he said, letting his anger take hold for a moment and turning away decisively. “Then Heavy will see Doktor tomorrow.”

He heard Medic sigh harshly before the door fell closed behind him.

He would end up wishing, later on, that he’d kept a level head. Pressed harder, asked more questions. Because he should’ve been more worried than angry, surely, at Medic startling so badly. He should’ve been more worried at Medic dodging questions when usually he was so enthusiastic about rambling about his projects. He should’ve been more worried at the doves not choosing to be all over whatever Medic was doing, or even nearby him.

The next morning, Medic wasn’t at breakfast, which wasn’t strange—he almost never was. Didn’t turn up with the larger part of the team before the match of the day, which was also fair, he tended to do most of his getting ready in the privacy of his own space.

Twenty minutes until the match was meant to start, and Medic wasn’t there, which was strange. He always showed up at least twenty minutes early to set up his weapons and make sure they were in order, to calibrate the Medigun. But maybe he was just running a little late—not usually this late, admittedly, but it was possible, even if it was a first.

But Heavy couldn’t shake a feeling of unease, regardless.

Fifteen minutes until the match was meant to start, and Heavy was elbowed in the upper arm, and startled back out of his thoughts to look for the source.

Scout was giving him a look of mild confusion. “Yo, what’s your deal?” he asked, tone lighthearted. “You’re actin’ like a total space cadet, big guy. What’s up?”

Heavy gave him a look of confusion at the colloquialism, not entirely familiar with it. Scout rolled his eyes.

“Means you’re not paying attention to nothin’. Spacing out. Lookin’ off and gettin’ all up in your own head about stuff,” he elaborated, even if he sighed a bit dramatically at needing to explain.

“Ah,” Heavy nodded, understanding and feeling a little bashful. “Just... thinking.”

Scout was still squinting at him a little bit, as if suspicious. He glanced back towards the room at large as there was a sudden noise, distracted for a moment, before he blinked, standing up straight. “Oh, what, is it ‘cause the Doc ain’t here yet?” he asked outright as it occurred to him.

Heavy nodded after a moment.

Scout rocked on his heels a few times, nodding to himself. “Yeah, hey, that ain’t like him,” Scout seemed to decide. “What’s got him late?”

Heavy frowned at him.

“I mean, you’d be the one to know,” Scout shrugged. “Figured I’d ask.”

“I do not know,” Heavy said, and maybe some bitterness crept into his tone, because Scout’s eyebrows shot up and he promptly removed himself from the conversation.

At the ten minute mark, Heavy could hear the other mercenaries starting to notice too, talking amongst themselves quietly but casually. He didn’t bother overtly listening in or moving to join the conversation, just continuing to look off into middle distance as he listened to them talking.

“Think he’s gone and slept in?” Demo mused.

“That would be a first,” Spy snorted.

“Weren’t at breakfast, then?” Sniper asked quietly. “Nobody seen him today?”

A chorus of “no”s from the team at large.

“And, uh, the big guy hasn’t either,” Scout added helpfully. “Hey, maybe someone should go check on him.”

“He’s cutting it awful close,” the Engineer hesitantly agreed. “If he has slept in, he’d need to wake up right about now if he’s gonna make it at all, let alone all prim and proper. Who’s gonna go check up on him? We could send the big guy.”

Some kind of noise and motion from Scout.

“...Alright, well, any volunteers?”

“I’ll go,” Spy finally said with a sigh. “Keep radios on, I’ll call in. Do not press the button.”

Heavy went cold, suddenly remembering the button in question.

They were hired mercenaries, and the large majority of them were... somewhat unstable. There were a few measures in place to make sure that nobody was doing anything... ill-advised. Their being stationed so far from civilization, and their work lives being scheduled to take up so much of their time, and a series of buttons around the base in case of a few emergency situations.

Obviously there were some for fires, earthquakes, or other disasters. Explosions, power outages, and other things of that nature. Then there were buttons for break-ins, stolen briefcases, sieges, assassination attempts.

Then there were a few for a couple of very specific instances. For a member of the team betraying the rest of them. For a member of the team being fired or quitting. And lastly, there was a button that was shared for two purposes—for any given member of the team not showing up to battle by the five-minute mark before prep time was set to begin, and for any given member of the team going officially AWOL. If they didn’t show up for work on time, they were to be presumed missing, and therefore presumed to be making a break for it.

There was exactly one other situation where something like this had happened—a brief power outage on the base had resulted in several people’s clocks getting reset, and the few who had purely mechanical clocks had needed to wake up the rest of the team, and they’d forgotten to wake up Scout. They met him halfway, finding him already booking it to try and get there on time, and had needed to collectively “forget” to call in that he wasn’t there on time, letting him show up a few minutes late (and promptly wheedling assorted favors out of him to continue to “forget”).

Spy left, and the rest of the team returned to regular everyday conversation, some kind of bickering between Demo and Soldier and Engineer, goaded on by Scout and Pyro. Heavy checked the clock every ten seconds or so.

At the six minute mark, an alarm started blaring.

Jolting and jumping and cries of surprise from the rest of the team, sudden very loud noises being one thing that professional killers tended to be bad at handling. Then looks of shock and surprise between all of them. Heavy felt sick.

“You don’t think...?” Demo trailed, and then they were all looking for the readout to figure out which alarm this one was, entirely unfamiliar with it. Heavy felt his blood go cold as he caught a glimpse of it.

“ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT—MEDIC”

In the mad dash to get to the infirmary to investigate, Heavy was among the last to make it, much slower than the rest of the team. When he got there, he found the team arguing with Spy, who was blocking the door and didn’t seem particularly keen on moving any time in the near future.

Until he looked up and saw Heavy, that is. Then he jerked his head, gesturing for Heavy to go inside, continuing to argue with the team, who all seemed to be in varying degrees of worried and alarmed.

Spy shut and barred the door behind them and gestured for Heavy to follow.

The setup from the night before was still there, test tubes and beakers, with the mess already apparently long since cleaned up. There was also a small tray of assorted basic medical equipment that Heavy could never remember the names for. But he noticed that Spy looked shaken just a few moments before he rounded the table and saw—

He was on his knees and speaking frantically before he even processed what he was looking at. Medic, on the ground, lying on his side, limp and lifeless. Heavy shook him by the shoulders, absolute unadulterated panic rising up into his chest and spilling out through his mouth in the form of frantic speaking, borderline shouting.

He demanded answers from Spy several times before he looked up and saw the confusion on Spy’s face and realized he wasn’t speaking English. He forced himself to slow down.

“What happened here?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Spy replied, clearly troubled. “He has a pulse still, and his breathing is fine, but he won’t wake up.”

Heavy looked down at Medic, alarmed beyond reason, and shook him again, shouted his title again. No response.

“I can’t be entirely sure, but despite my setting off that particular alarm, I don’t think that this was foul play, mon ami,” Spy said grimly, putting a hand on Heavy’s shoulder.

Heavy shot him a confused look, and Spy moved to carefully pick up something from the table—a syringe.

“I found this next to him,” he said, tilting it in his hand. “I am not presently sure what was in it. But if I had to guess... I think he might’ve injected himself with it.”

Heavy felt horror gnawing at him, biting a gaping hole into his gut. Because that wasn’t like Medic. He didn’t often test things on himself. His Medigun and other such implements, yes. But for other things, he always went to the rest of the team. And Heavy didn’t even know what any of this stuff on the table was.

And then he realized the worst part of all of this. Whenever there was an emergency like this, on or off the field, during work or during leisure time, in any situation at all, Medic was the one who tended to solve it. Sometimes with the help of the Engineer, or Demoman, or Heavy, depending on what the situation called for, but he was always the one there to fix it, to think things through and find a solution—often unorthodox, but always effective.

And now that Medic was the one hurt, who would be the one to help them?

Miss Pauling showed up within the hour, and was apparently given the run-down on what had happened. It was agreed between Spy and Heavy that their story would be that the syringe had been found several feet away from Medic on the floor and that Spy “very much suspected foul play”, just in case Medic had indeed made some kind of misstep himself that he could get in trouble for. Miss Pauling then apparently promised to investigate and get back to them on it. She apparently offered to find some other medical professional to help them, but admitted that it would probably take at least a day to get someone to the base, and Spy had turned down the offer.

Over the course of the first three hours, the rest of the team had all dispersed and gone to do other things. Medic had been moved to one of the cots he kept stored away in a half-hearted “ward”, and the Engineer and Demo combined had managed to fiddle and figure their way through finding and using some of the more basic medical equipment, and had hooked Medic up to a heartbeat monitor after the fifth time in twenty minutes that someone became convinced that he was dead, unable to feel his pulse or see his breathing.

Soldier had made a point, once the chaos had died down a little. Had pointed out that really, they could send Medic through Respawn and that would potentially solve this problem. But the Engineer hadn’t looked so sure, and so Heavy had immediately and firmly protested the idea until it was dropped again.

No further conversations needed to take place to determine that Heavy would be the one to stick around and wait for Medic to wake up.

Heavy ended up grabbing one of his books from the bookshelf that he’d previously left in the lab, still sitting there at the bedside but at least having something to occupy his mind while he waited so he wouldn’t go entirely crazy. For the most part he tended to get lost in his reading, and time often slipped by in the blink of an eye, but this time he found himself looking up every few minutes or so regardless, eyes darting up for a moment either to the heartbeat monitor or to Medic himself.

It was unsettling. He was glad they’d set up the monitor, because otherwise Heavy would surely be checking his breathing every few minutes. He was pale, almost sickly-looking, and his dark circles beyond pronounced. He looked like a corpse, almost. The sight of him like that shook Heavy deeply, more deeply than he could or would ever admit.

Around midday, Demo dropped by to check up on them, and to readjust the heartbeat monitor. At some point, the Engineer stopped by to bring Heavy something to eat, and to check for any updates. There were none. Medic hadn’t moved.

Heavy needed to get up to turn on a light when the sun finally set, and to pick up a different book. To pace for a little while. He fed the birds, made sure they had fresh water. But then he sat back down, forced himself to take a few deep breaths, to stay calm. Medic’s heartbeat was steady, as was his breathing. He wasn’t getting any worse. He just needed to be patient.

Heavy glanced up at the heartbeat monitor an hour later, squinting suspiciously, watching as it started picking up speed a bit. The number on the screen slowly started ticking up, and Heavy felt his concern rising alongside it. He hesitated for a while before closing his book and setting it aside, unsure of exactly what to do. After a moment he went with his gut instinct, leaning forward and gently shaking Medic on the shoulder.

“Doktor?” he asked, working hard to keep his voice level. He swallowed hard when he heard the monitor pick up even further. “Medic?” he tried again, shaking a bit harder, volume rising slightly.

Almost all at once, a shift, a movement, a change in Medic’s expression. Then Medic seemed to be fighting hard to open his eyes, to move, to sit up.

“Was? Was is los?” he managed, words slurring together and tumbling awkwardly as he blinked a few times, visibly disoriented. He seemed to be trying to shift his arms, but he couldn’t quite manage it.

“Medic?” Heavy asked again, shocked beyond words to see Medic moving.

A quiet scoff from Medic. “Ja, ja, what? What is going on?” he asked, sounding oddly exasperated, still trying to move. “What do you want?”

Heavy forced himself to blink, to respond. “You’re awake,” he observed, not quite able to string words together just yet.

“I’m awake,” Medic agreed, even as he swayed, blinked hard, “what did you need? What is wrong?”

“Wrong?” Heavy asked, confused even further.

“Yes, it’s all you people say, “Medic, Medic”, over and over, it’s infuriating,” the doctor rambled, words tumbling a bit again, and he managed to get a hand to Heavy’s arm, pushing on it and heaving himself up just a bit. “What is it? What did you need help with?”

“No, no, no help,” Heavy assured quickly, and moved to push on Medic’s shoulders. “Doktor should lay back down and rest. He is not well.”

“I’m fine,” Medic said flippantly, even as he fell like a sack of potatoes at the lightest push, and couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. “I’ll be fine. I’m just tired.”

“Rest more,” Heavy insisted, worry creeping back into view. “Doktor... does not remember?”

“What do...?” Medic started, and trailed for a few moments, drifting, before shaking himself what small amount he was able. “What? What do you mean?”

Heavy went to explain, but then he observed the crease in Medic’s brow, the cold sweat beading his face, the paleness of him, and he backtracked. “Nevermind. Later. Is Doktor comfortable?”

Medic seemed to think it over. “Yes. Cold, I suppose,” he amended. He squinted up at Heavy for a moment. “I’m... in a bed?”

“Yes. But it is night time. Go to sleep,” Heavy urged, even if he didn’t want to, even if he wanted Medic to jump to his feet and get right back to normal. He had a feeling it wouldn’t be that easy, and that Medic needed rest, now.

Medic nodded distractedly, then shook his head. “No, no, I have work to do,” he protested weakly.

“First,” Heavy tried, scrambling to think of something. “Er... count backward from twenty.”

Medic huffed, and seemed to try to roll his eyes. “Fine,” he sighed, and only got to thirteen before he was out like a light.

Heavy snapped his fingers once or twice to see if Medic would react, and he didn’t, at which point he stood and went to find a teammate.

He found Spy, luckily, and quickly relayed what information he could. Medic had woken up briefly, and was too disoriented to answer any questions before he passed back out again. Spy nodded, looking a little relieved, and promised to update the rest of the team in case Heavy wanted to go and keep watch some more. Heavy thanked him.

Hours later, Medic stirred again, this time sitting up fully and starting to feebly fight his way free of his blankets for a few moments before he even managed to start speaking, but Heavy urged him to stay still, gently asked again if he remembered anything and got a non-answer in response, incoherent murmuring. He managed to get at least a full sentence out of him, Medic complaining that he was hungry. Heavy assured him that he would go get something to eat, and that it was very important that he stay put, and all but ran to the kitchen to dig up something and to return with it. He made the fastest sandwich of his entire life, and was back within ten minutes, but Medic was out again by the time he got back regardless.

Sometime around two in the morning, Heavy jolted awake from a doze at the sound of movement. Medic had sat up fully, and his eyebrows were drawn together, and his hair was sticking up oddly. It was more of a mess than Heavy had maybe ever seen him in outside of battle, and in battle it was usually an issue of blood and burns and mud and wounds, not bedhead and general dishevelment.

Medic squinted hard at him when he moved. “Heavy?” he asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Heavy said quickly, sitting up straight.

“...Where are my glasses?” he asked. His voice was rough, but much less weak than before.

Heavy was quick to find them and pass them over, and Medic put them on, only fumbling a little bit in the process. “Doktor is hungry?” Heavy asked hesitantly, leaning and reaching for where he’d set the sandwich nearby. Medic nodded, and took it with only mild confusion, eating without protest. Heavy noted the way he seemed to wince, and quickly deduced that he was probably thirsty, and got up to fetch a cup of water. Medic took that as well, draining it in one go and then wolfing down the remainder of the sandwich with no further delay.

He set the plate aside, frowning, glancing around the infirmary. Heavy could see the cogs turning in his head. “...What time is it?” Medic asked.

Heavy leaned to try and get a glance at a clock. “Almost three,” he finally said.

Medic frowned harder. “...And what day is it?”

Heavy sighed, running his hand over his own head, slumping a little. “You were asleep for a full day,” he said, understanding what Medic really meant by that question.

A vague kind of alarm from Medic.

“What happened?” Heavy asked, cutting right to the point. After nearly a full day of panic, he thought he was entitled to be a little blunt.

Medic examined the situation for a few more moments, thought for a few more moments, before he sighed, apparently giving in. “Apparently, a failed experiment,” he said bitterly.

Heavy frowned.

Medic shifted, took stock of his surroundings briefly. Pushed his glasses up. “...You do not seem terribly panicked,” he observed.

“Doktor has already woken up twice,” Heavy said carefully.

Medic cringed. “Ugh. Did I say anything?”

“No, mostly... too disoriented to speak,” Heavy said. “What happened?”

“Well. What I was attempting to do, and presumably did a very bad job of, was make a sort of... anesthesia. Something that would be extremely effective at knocking someone entirely unconscious into a very deep sleep, which they could then wake up from eight or so hours later, perhaps more or less time depending on dosage.”

Heavy nodded, following along as best he could and trying to piece together the rest. “...And Doktor tested this on himself?” he asked.

“Ja, to make the long story short.”

“Why? Why did you make this?” Heavy asked, still confused, because Medic had said multiple times before that he thought anasthesia for surgeries was unnecessary when he had the Medigun.

Medic’s jaw tightened. “Not important,” he said.

Heavy sighed hard, dragging a hand down over his face. “Doktor, you have a badly scared team,” he said, sharp and short. “All very frightened by this. We deserve real explanations.”

Medic looked at him for a long few moments, the cogs in his head whirring too fast for most to keep up with, but Heavy was fairly sure he could follow along once he understood a few more things.

First, that Medic was looking a little bit better, once he woke up. Better than normal. Less ragged, even though he clearly would be needing a shave at some point.

Second, that Medic had seemed genuinely surprised for a second to hear that the team had been worried about him.

Third, that the expression on his face could be described as guilt, which Heavy had only seen him wear exactly once before, twenty-four hours prior.

Medic broke eye contact, glared off out into the infirmary. The doves were rattling a tray of surgical equipment across the room.

“I was attempting to make a sleeping aid,” Medic finally admitted.

A few moments to make a series of connections before Heavy spoke. “...For yourself?” he asked, just for clarification’s sake.

“Ja. For myself.”

“Doktor is having trouble sleeping?” he asked, more gently now.

“Stop that,” Medic said, tone absolutely biting, and Heavy recoiled a little bit. Medic promptly exhaled, eyes falling closed, that guilt back full force. “I... I meant... just, don’t use that tone. I do not need to be babied, I am a fully grown man. Yes, I have been... having trouble sleeping. And it began to interfere with my work.”

“What is problem?” Heavy asked, careful to keep his tone even.

“I am unable to stay asleep for any period of time. Falling asleep is fairly easy, but once I’m out I am woken almost immediately.”

His tone was beyond the clear-cut clinical kind that he wore when explaining most things, it was outright cold, derogatory even, and Heavy felt indignant for a moment before realizing the tone wasn’t directed at him. Medic was glaring down at his own hands.

“I understand all of the symptoms I am experiencing, and why they are there, and what is causing them, but still I...” Medic visibly forced himself to take a breath as his voice started rising. When he spoke again, it was even and level. “I understand now what I did wrong, and rest assured, it will not happen again.”

“How bad were sleeping troubles to make this happen?” Heavy asked, still incredulous.

Medic’s shoulders sank. He continued looking everywhere but at Heavy. “I have not gotten more than a total of seven hours of sleep per week for the last month,” he said quietly.

Heavy’s blood ran cold.

Medic sighed, pushing his glasses up to knead at the bridge of his nose viciously. “And this has happened before, is not terribly unusual, but also I’ve been feeling extremely nauseous at all hours of the day and so I haven’t been eating more than one or two meals at most, and being hungry makes my mood flare unexpectedly, and so I dive into work to sort through it, and then I’ve missed out on more meals and more sleep and I’m—“

Medic cut himself off cold. Glared off at nothing, into the darkness of the infirmary, with more blatant and fiery disgust and anger than Heavy had ever seen him in, even in the worst of his temper in the height of battle. It was a little frightening.

But that fear was overshadowed by concern, because his eyes were shining, tears more visible against the contrast of the bags under Medic’s eyes.

“I’m just... tired, Heavy,” Medic admitted, like a Herculean effort, worse than pulling teeth, worse than open heart surgery, and it made sense that it was so cleary difficult for Medic to say, because Heavy realized all at once that it was the first time Medic had ever said something like that.

Medic never complained. Chided, of course, and lectured, and occasionally berated, but never complained. Not of hunger, or fatigue, or heat, or cold, or anything at all. Not when he was bleeding profusely from bullet wounds or shrapnel, not when the team ate all of the food at dinner without leaving any for him because he hardly ever showed up anyways, not when it was clear he’d been woken up twice and three times during the night to deal with injuries from various shenanigans.

He was always there to fix their problems, to check in on the team, to notice one too many yawns, or unnatural flushes as symptoms to fevers or overheating in the desert sun, or stumbling, or having apparently forgotten to eat breakfast. He kept everyone in shape, kept the whole team on top of taking care of themselves as best they could, and made up the extra distance for them when they slipped. Gave them modified hearts and healed their wounds and chided them to make sure to eat dinner and get their sleep and wash their hands and to smoke and drink just slightly less.

And Heavy realized, all at once, that they never gave him that courtesy in return.

He, Heavy, was there to listen to Medic, to hear him talking about things, to be there for him in many ways emotionally, but when was the last time he’d asked about Medic’s well-being outside of a cursory greeting?

He pieced together all at once Medic not showing up for breakfast or dinner, and missing lunch during battle to hunt down teammates who’d been downed and needed help. Medic always staying up so late working and getting up so early to get ready for work on time.

He was fairly certain that Medic would literally give an arm and a leg to any teammate who so much as asked. And none of them ever so much as given him the courtesy or wondering if he was alright. Because they assumed that Medic was somehow managing to take care of himself, on top of his taking care of all eight of them.

Heavy leaned in and pulled Medic into a hug.

Medic stiffened, clearly confused, unsure of what to do. “...Heavy?”

“I am sorry, Doktor,” Heavy rumbled, throat feeling a little tight. “I am sorry that this happened. We... help to figure something out,” he promised. “We are a team, we will look out for each other. And Doktor looks after all of us the most, and so we should look after Doktor the most. Credit to team. We will help. I will help.”

“...Thank you, Heavy,” Medic said slowly, a weight to it, and managed an awkward sort of pat, as if trying to comfort him, still, even then, waking up in a hospital bed of sorts with no memory of the previous day.

He finally pulled back, glancing Medic up and down. “Is there anything Doktor needs?” he asked.

Medic shook his head, adjusted his glasses again. “I can handle myself now, I think,” he said with an air of finality, starting to free himself from the blankets he’d been lumped under.

Heavy stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and a hard look. Medic faltered. Deflated.

“...Water would be appreciated,” he mumbled, and Heavy nodded, standing to go get him a cup.

Heavy was the one to update Miss Pauling the next day, to tell her that Medic had woken up at some point but would be needing an additional day to recover. She hadn’t asked any further questions, just nodding and handing him a thin file to give to Spy when he had the chance.

He did so an hour later at breakfast.

He first handed the folder off to Spy, who thanked him, then went to go get himself a plate of food. Medic had dozed off again at some point, and it would probably be a good idea to eat while he had the chance. As much as Medic kept insisting that he could do things on his own, when he’d briefly gone to get a change of clothes he’d wobbled severely and gone very pale the moment he stood up and tried to walk, so Heavy was fairly certain he’d be spending another day in the infirmary helping him with things while he recovered a bit more. And to be honest, the chairs in the infirmary were extremely uncomfortable, so he’d appreciate sitting somewhere else for a while.

Once he sat down, he was bombarded with questions by the rest of the team.

“Has he woken up yet?” Scout asked, curious.

“Do you know what happened?” Demo asked, concerned.

“Anythin’ we can do to help?” Engie asked, earnest.

Heavy hesitated in a couple of ways, partially because he wasn’t entirely sure how to answer, partially because he wasn’t entirely sure with what all Medic would want him to say. He confirmed that Medic had woken up a few times, for a few minutes the first times then for a few hours the next. He made brief eye contact with Spy before explaining that they were going to continue telling Miss Pauling they didn’t know what happened, and that Medic knew that as well, but that in reality he’d made a mistake with an experiment and he’d need another day or so to recover.

On the last question, he hesitated for quite some time before answering.

“If any help is needed, I will ask,” Heavy said slowly. “But... maybe we need to be better to Doktor.”

Sounds of confusion and question from the table at large.

“Medic always works very hard,” Heavy elaborated carefully. “Takes care of team, keeps us safe and healthy. Makes sure we are all okay. Maybe... we could be better at watching out for Doktor too.”

A few nods and sounds of agreement. “Not sure he’d take too well to us nagging him, though,” Engie said.

“Maybe no nagging. But... letting him know we can notice he is not well, and that we want him to be well,” Heavy elaborated. “Heavy can do nagging.”

“So, what’s the story we’re tellin’ Miss P? Still the, uh, the old ‘whoops, someone tried to kill him, ain’t that a shame’ thing?” Scout asked.

“Yes.”

“If you would like, we can take turns in bringing food to the infirmary,” Spy offered. “If you do not particularly feel like being there the entire day.”

“Will be there to keep Doktor company anyways, but maybe it will help to have team stopping by,” Heavy agreed.

They started sorting out a schedule for that, of who would be dropping by when, inventing some excuses for people to come by the infirmary and kick around for a while to keep things interesting. A few minutes in, Pyro dropped by to join planning, and Sniper showed up half an hour later and was talked at for about twenty minutes before he managed to extract himself long enough to at least grab his coffee.

And over the course of the rest of the day, Medic’s continuous complaints about being bedridden eventually started to fade away under the weight of the team’s shenanigans. The Engineer dropped by and they talked over some more Medigun and Dispenser redesigns for quite a while, and Spy brought by a newspaper at some point and they had a lengthy discussion in German about assorted European politics and recent news. Different pairs of teammates dropped by a few times over the course of the day with assorted food and drink, Demo and Scout doing so after apparently using their time off to drive all the way to civilization to get some bad diner food, and bringing back leftovers for Heavy and Medic.

Shortly after Soldier and Pyro stepped out, having dropped off an earnest and surprisingly successful attempt at them baking apple pie for the two of them to get a taste of, Medic looked over at Heavy, a little suspicious. “So what exactly did you tell them?” he asked outright.

Heavy blinked, felt himself flushing a little. “...What do you mean?” he asked anyways.

Medic rolled his eyes. “Clearly you told them something. The entire team didn’t simply unanimously decide to come by to try and do whatever all of this is.”

Heavy shrugged after a moment’s consideration. “Just that all day I would be here to help if Doktor needed it,” he said, which wasn’t untrue, just not the full truth.

And Medic seemed to suspect that, but he didn’t say anything, just tucking back into the food.

At some point, Medic took a brief nap. Not brief in the usual sense, brief in that he shook awake with no small amount of thrashing and panic about twenty minutes into falling asleep. He waved off Heavy’s concern and tried to go back to sleep again, and it repeated. A third time. A fourth time.

By then, it was getting late. Medic said he promised that he wouldn’t get up and do any moving around or anything if Heavy wanted to go and sleep in his own room instead of sleeping in a chair again.

But he hesitated when he said it, and Heavy couldn’t help but ask about it.

It was with great difficulty and a lot of careful wording that Medic admitted that usually he didn’t even get those twenty minutes of sleep before he woke up again. Usually it was five or ten at most, and then he couldn’t fall back asleep again. But he felt mildly comforted in some ways because he knew—

And that was where he cut himself off, refused to say more for a long few minutes. When he finally spoke again, he wouldn’t look at Heavy, head tucked forward, staring very pointedly at nothing.

He finally admitted, he felt mildly comforted in some ways because he knew that he was safe, with Heavy there.

Heavy didn’t need to hear any more than that. He pulled over one of the gurneys and slept on that for the night, and every night after that until Medic was fully, entirely recovered.

“Doktor?” Heavy called, pushing into the infirmary and glancing around. “Team time.”

“Ja, ja, one moment,” Medic said, waving him off with one hand, the other pouring birdseed into the little feeder he kept for his doves. He brushed his thumb over Archimedes’s head to dislodge some kind of dust or mess, tsk’ing him quietly, before setting the bird down and scooping up his coat on the way to the door. “What is breakfast?”

“Engineer makes, er... toast, with egg and cinnamon,” Heavy explained, looking down at the food in question, the name escaping him momentarily as he picked up the Medigun and starting to walk, Medic on his heels.

“French toast?” Medic supplied, moving to pull on his coat, glancing backwards to check that the infirmary door closed behind him.

“No, it was Engineer who made it, not Spy,” Heavy joked, and was promptly scoffed at and elbowed, Medic falling into step beside him. Once Medic had done up his coat, Heavy handed him the slices, and Medic ate them quickly and efficiently, brushing his hands off before he took the Medigun from Heavy. “Did Doktor get enough sleep?”

“More than usual,” Medic agreed, sounding pleased.

“Good,” Heavy nodded, holding the door for Medic as they got to the hall to the locker rooms. “Sleep is important.”

“I know, Heavy,” Medic said, rolling his eyes a little, “I do not need to be babied.”

“Is not babying, Doktor is not a baby,” Heavy protested. “Is caring about teammate and friend.”

Medic rolled his eyes again, but despite his best efforts, Heavy just barely caught a glimpse of a smile on his face, and that was enough.

“Hey, Doc! Sup, Heavy!” Scout called as they entered the locker room, and the rest of the team called out similar greetings. Heavy just nodded at them and Medic gave a small wave as he went to get the rest of his equipment, Heavy splitting off to do the same.

“How’re you doin’, Doc?” Engie asked cheerfully, lacing up his boots.

“Fine, fine,” Medic said. “Yourself?”

“Alright. Enjoy the breakfast?”

“It was good, although I’m not entirely sure I’ll ever get used to how much butter and fat people in America use on everything,” Medic admitted.

“I said the same thing,” Spy chimed in from nearby, startling Heavy slightly, who hadn’t noticed he was there.

“Well, Heavy’s not an American either, and he liked it well enough,” Engie defended, and Heavy nodded his agreement.

“It is more energy to fight better,” Heavy said simply. “Is not a bad thing.”

“It is important to eat healthy foods and get a balanced diet,” Medic said almost mechanically, automatically.

“But it’s more important to eat at all,” Engie pointed out.

Medic didn’t have a good rebuttal for that.

And he didn’t say it out loud, because Heavy knew that to push too far would feel patronizing, but he did notice some things just then, watching Medic calibrating the Medigun. How sharp and clear his focus seemed to be. His dark circles were nearly gone. His face had a healthy amount of color, and his posture was straight but relaxed, almost effortless, and his movements were efficient. And when he looked over at Heavy to check that he was ready to go, his voice was crisp, unwavering, and there was life there behind his eyes. Really, genuinely, life there behind his eyes.

And he knew there would be slumps, next time Medic picked up a project or something went wrong or they had one day of losses too many. But maybe it was worth all this work just to have a moment or two of seeing that life there.

Just maybe.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #shut up me #my fanfiction #everybody talks #not ship just friendship #sometimes you gotta look out for the people who look out for the people

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seekandsekkle · 3 years

Text

Happy Full Moon in Sagittarius Family.

The Moon: This energy is like walking into a ratchet reality tv episode. We got this Sag Moon lounging around complaining and worrying while doing nothing and everything is due. Then Gemini walks in doing so much talking without looking and gets knocked head first into a wall. While the Sag Moon looks on and laughs then the Eclipse slides in and steals the show with some knock down drag out display of fuckery that won't allow you to do anything else but get tight and right so your life is not this shit show episode. Lunar Eclipses bring chaos into the universe. The purpose of that chaos is to shake you out of the complacency you tend to fall into when you get too comfortable with the bullshit. We ain't got time for that so that means we get this all star lineup. Sag the Archer is getting its bow and arrow ready to deal with all the old shit showing up due to the retrograde, then you have Gemini the grand communicator cooking up conversations that need to be had so healing can occur or freedom can be obtained. Mr. Eclipse is pulling you and your emotions to the darkside so you can get to the roots of some of your core issues...or at least look at them....acknowledge them at the very least cause you could easily get dragged for taking your shit out on everybody because you refuse to do the work on yourself. All funny bits aside we gotta pay attention to the feeling coming up but wait to react. Some of these feelings are parts of old stories we created about ourselves that are not true or they are old paradigms that have shifted on their side but you are still on the previous page. You will never know what people are currently thinking or feeling if you haven't asked. Assumptions get us in a lot of trouble. This is a rough time for everyone in some way or a challenging time. You have no idea what someone is struggling with so be mindful and compassionate about that. Hell be compassionate to ya' got damn self. You've been struggling too, sad too, fucked up in some way too. How would you want folks to respond, how would you like to be cared for?

The Ritual: This Moon and Eclipse ask us to honor the divine feminine. We are still in the mode of honoring the sacred mother, the mothership, the portal of life, the vagina, the womb, the creatrix that gives us access to this world. She is divine and she is worthy of honor and praise. If you are bleeding we honor you and thank you . If you are ovulating we honor you and thank you. If you are deeply emotional we honor you and thank you. If you are activated and excited we honor you and thank you, If you are conceiving we honor you and thank you. If you are in the middle of birth we honor you and thank you. We honor the divine feminine within us regardless of identity. It is the energy of this earth and we must recognize ourselves in her and honor what is sacred. Light a white or pink candle for her, state what you want to release. Breathe in and exhale deeply holding your womb or your belly and feel the energy of the great mother. Thank her humbly.

The Tea: (read the sign for your sun, moon and rising to get the most out of this tea)

Aries - You ready for something new...life, job, career, path, religion, teacher...something ain't been working and you are finally ready to make it happen. You wanna feel good, feel like you are progressing at something. Now is the time. The Eclipse is casting its shadow on your fears,especially when it comes to your fame or lack thereof. You are afraid to get under that spotlight due to the past. Just know things can be different this time, believe in yourself.

Taurus - Being avoidant won't make the things go away, it just makes a bigger mess to clean up later. Lets get ahead of the shit this time and just face it all head on. I know this ain't how you like it but trust me its better this way. The Eclipse is casting its shadow on beliefs. Everything you have understood to this point could be actually different and you may begin to see the truth for the first time on some things and this may shake you up a bit. You will really see how truth can set you free on ideas and beliefs that no longer serve you.

Gemini - You have been everything for everybody and now you need the care you give, the love you give, the service you provide. You are gonna sit this one out and go inward yet again. Have several seats and get your list of boundaries so you are not overdoing and hurting yourself in the process. This Eclipse is casting its shadow on personal power or lack of thereof. Somewhere in there you forgot who the fuck you are. It's time to remember you are a dynamic, divine being. Accept your greatness and move on.

Cancer - This moon energy has thrown a wrench in all of your plans. The goal was to help you see that you can be your biggest enemy. You make choices sometimes that pull you away from all the blessings you have in your hands. You may lose some things so that you may learn to appreciate some things. I know it feels frustrating because everything was going so well and then it all derailed....Let this be looked at as divine intervention umkay. This Eclipse is casting its shadow on your relationships how you manage them and who you have them with. You may have a hard time listening to your gut during this cycle. Get some guidance for once you could gain some insight that gets you back on track to winning.

Leo - Trying to create with others is not the way to go this moon cycle. You will have miscommunications and misunderstandings and who knows what else. You got some good ideas but at the wrong time. Wait it out and once Mercury goes direct try again. This Eclipse is casting its light on ya mouth. Watch what you say and to whom. Don't get caught up in drama or gossip it will backfire yo ass so swift you will think you got hit,

Virgo - The world is trying to tell you to slow and steady wins the race but you ain't been listening. Do you okay but just know that this tendency to think you know better will show you exactly where you went wrong when it's too late. The Eclipse is casting its shadow on the details. Make sure you check your mail, email, messages, schedules so you don't overbook, underbook or double book ya self. Be extra Virgo about all this stuff so you don't have too many "Doh" moments

Libra - You trying to fly out the nest but you need to settle for a Staycation cause this retrograde energy will mess up all your plans. This Eclipse is casting its shadow on your temper. This is a great time for breathwork, grounding and following the way of the peaceful warrior cause you aint gon' win none of the fights you find yourself in.

Scorpio - Hold on to ya coins. This ain't the time to sign the deal. This retrograde energy will have you regretting all the decisions you make right now, While you wait you can use this time dreaming, creating, or making money instead of spending money. This Eclipse is casting its shadow on your feelings. Ima tell this heaux to leave you alone and let you be. It's too much for you anyway. This is not a time when I'm gonna tell you to go deep into that scary darkness. This time ima let you turn a night light on while you focus on some unexpected blessing falling out the sky for you.

Sagittarius - Out with the old in with the new. New you boo boo. Since you are changing and growing, so are your needs, hopes and dreams. This could also factor in your need to change you who fucking with. Everybody can't come where you are growing, they won't fit in the car nor the life you are dreaming to have. It's ok you won't miss them when you're happy doing something or someone else. This Eclipse is casting its shadow on your communication especially with people you're romantically connected to. If you are booed up check in on thangs so you stay that way.

Capricorn - Hey Cappy this moon will have all your shit fucked up...ok that was dramatic as hell and you didn't deserve that but if I said it nicely you wouldn't take me seriously. You can be practical and go over all meeting details 100 times. I say surrender to the bitch and just blame everything on the retrograde. This Eclipse is casting its shadow on your transformation. You've been doing some work on yourself, now it is a good time to do an assessment of these changes and chart your progress. Shift somethings if its needed

Aquarius - Your path is the way of the solo wanderer. Your best magic is done in the privacy of your own space, cooking up a good meal and spending time with the emotions no one knows you have. The Eclipse is casting its shadow on the drama brewing with the comrades. Your job is to whistle and walk on by when the bullshit starts flying around. You can try some comic relief to lighten up the mood or you can simply let the bomb go off after you have left the building of course.

Pisces - Playing small won't get you nothing at all. You are a Boss so embrace it. This is a great time to release some old feelings of worthiness, imposter syndrome of just lack of confidence. You got this, believe me. This Eclipse is casting its shadow on your homegirl/boy crew. Some people aint gon' make it on your new team and let that be ok. We tend to grow apart from folks when we start doing the work. Misery wants company but evolution wants the light.

Extra Tea

Weed Strains for your sign. Puff Good

Make yourself some good ass Moon Water. Set a full jar of spring water (lid on) in the Moon light and let this energy charge it up. Harvest before daybreak. Drink it for a charge, bath in it for a cleanse, give it to your plants for a blessing.

This is a Super Moon and this Eclipse has taken the energy to another level. We could use some help so I recommend charging up your Blue Lace Agate. This stone will help you manage the Geminis Sun and Sagittarius Moon energy since together they could have you combobulated. Blue Lace Agate is good for helping you get your thoughts together, it will help you pull those repressed feelings to the surface so you can release them. I appreciate the way it helps me stand firm in my truth...whatever truth that is in the moment. This is a perfect stone to use when you need help activating your throat chakra. If you don't already have some now would be a good time to getchoo some.

Created for Moon Tes Subscribers. Get the tea in your inbox twice a month. Send me a message and ill sign you up.

Bushmama Africa

Multidisciplinary Artist, Curator, Workshop Facilitator

Spiritual Life Coach, Intuitive Astrologist

Culture Preservationist, Sex Trafficking Abolitionist

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