Chapter Text
It was only about half way through the match when the RED Spy came across the BLU Scout. The boy was bleeding badly. It seemed as though he had been too close to some kind of RED explosion. Most likely Soldier’s rockets or Demo’s bombs. The Scout looked terrible. He was hardly conscience and hardly lucid. It was obvious that every breath pained him. He didn't even seem to notice the enemy standing right in front of him. The Spy knew the smartest thing would be to leave the Scout to bleed out. It would keep him off the field longer; prevent him from harassing RED then speeding away. All he had to do was walk away.
But…
It was also Scout's birthday. The Spy made it his business to know everything about everyone on both teams. He knew their birthdays, blood types, past relationships. Everything.
Well, except for the BLU Spy. He could begrudgingly admit his counterpart was good at his job.
Despite his best efforts, despite telling himself that it didn’t matter, the Spy could not ignore the BLU Scout. His mother was too important. She was one of the few women Spy could say he had every been truly interested in. She was beautiful, and strong, and could even tell when he was lying. Sometimes, when he has time alone, he wonders what his life could have been like had he settled down and married. Had he not been a backstabbing spy.
Had he stayed with her and raised their son together.
But he had not. He had left her just as he had left everything else from his past behind. She does not matter anymore. The Scout is just BLU filth, like the rest of the team. Even as he attempted to lie to himself, Spy was unable to stop watching Scout.
His son. Dying on the battlefield, on his birthday.
It was fine. The Scout would respawn, the same as everyone else. It was unpleasant, yes, but he would come back. He would be dead for less than a minute before he would be forced to experience the gut-wrenching sensation of having his insides recreated and rearranged. The disorientation of being alive then dead then alive again. The nausea that every mercenary staunchly ignored in favour of returning to the endless war.
Even as he reasoned with himself, Spy felt himself moving towards the Scout. Perhaps, in an act of mercy, he would kill the Scout himself. Shorted his suffering, if only by a little bit. Instead, Spy felt as if he was watching someone else control his body as he opened his disguise kit and put on a mask. The BLU Spy. The easiest to act as, given how similar they were. Before he could stop and consider his actions, Spy shouted, “Medic!”
Then he waited with Scout. He tried to justify his actions as the sole present he had ever given to his child. He would wait until the Medic came then simply cloak and leave. No one would ever have to know what he did. How he had betrayed his own team, in a small way.
After a small eternity, the BLU Medic came, Pyro in tow. The arsonist made Spy even more nervous about his sudden endeavour into kindness. For whatever reason, Pyro seemed to be the best at figuring out where the Spy was hiding. He realized not for the first time how stupid he was being for attempting to help the opposite team. Scout would have respawned anyway.
“Spy! You called for me?” said the Medic, looking him over trying to see his injury. Wordlessly, Spy nodded to the unconscious Scout.
“Oh! I did not notice him! I’m surprised he has not died on his own, perhaps I should look into what makes him so resilient to explosives…” Medic trailed off, thinking about the different experiments he could run. He continued muttering to himself switching rapidly between English and German as he turned the beam of the Medi Gun towards Scout.
Rather than immediately running off as he had intended, Spy stayed and watched as Scouts wounds headed and he began to regain conscientiousness. In his peripheral vision Spy could still see the Pyro. Were they watching him or looking somewhere else? The gas mask made it impossible to know for sure. They gave a small wave to the Spy. He returned the gesture awkwardly, unsure of what else to do.
Seemingly in the moment Spy had looked away to focus on Pyro, Scout had sat up. He was chattering to the Medic, trying to both thank the doctor while also denying he needed help in the first place. Spy refocused on the conversation in time to hear Medic say, “You have the Spy to thank. He is the one who alerted me to your position.”
Scout’s made eye contact with Spy for the first time. “Yeah? And what did I do that Mr. Frenchy himself would bother helping me? You want something now?”
Spy did not get the chance to answer, although he was not sure how he would have anyway. He watched in horror as his mirror image ran into the area. The real BLU Spy.
The RED Spy immediately cloaked himself. He dared not try and bluff his way out of a situation featuring four BLUs, one of them being the person he was disguised as. His only hope was running.
Unfortunately for Spy, Pyro’s sense for his location did not fail them. They flipped on their flamethrower and caught Spy in the flames. He yelled in pain. He knew his cloak dropped even though he could not open his eyes to confirm. The RED Spy burned to death.
He slowly became conscious of his own discomfort. His insides were twisted all wrong. Everything felt unnatural.
And then he was back.
Spy opened his eyes and fought back the need to vomit. He wasn’t sure if his stomach was only turning because of respawn or if it had more to do with Scout. It was probably Scout.
Resolving to ignore the situation as best as he could Spy returned to the battlefield. He could simply ignore the BLU Scout, Medic, Pyro, and Spy. About half the opposing team. It shouldn’t be too difficult.
The battle progressed without any other incidents. Spy knew his kill count suffered that day but couldn’t bring himself to care.