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The day was won, but it wasn't over just yet. The round had ended only a few minutes beforehand, but his Medic was eager to go out and look for fresh bodies.
"You have to get them as soon as possible!" Medic said to him, as if he hadn't said this a million times before with the same manic smile. "The longer they stay out, the less useful they'll be!"
He didn't need Heavy to protect him for this. When a day's conflict was over, both RED and BLU vacated the battlefield. The odds of running into someone else were low, aside from the opposing BLU Medic who was not an issue. Out of some kind of professional courtesy, the two of them pointedly ignored each other while scavenging (although Medic preferred the term "harvesting").
He didn't need Heavy to come with him, but he liked having him along to talk to, and Heavy liked to listen to him chatter. Even if it was under disturbing circumstances, he always liked to see that happy energy and bright light in his Medic's eyes.
So Heavy went, taking his shotgun with him just in case. He didn't think anything would happen, but just in case. Medic, on his part, had a bucket along with his syringe gun and bonesaw. The bonesaw was for practical purposes, and his syringe gun... well, just in case.
On a battlefield, even an empty one, it was very difficult to not go without some kind of weapon.
They'd done this many times, and just as those many times before, most of the remains were unidentifiable chunks of flesh, some of which were charred by flame. There were sprays of blood, but those weren't useful since they were dried by now and a pain to scrape off the floor. There were better pickings to be found elsewhere.
The skirmish this day had taken place in the complex colloquially known as Junction, a place filled with many tight hallways and corridors. There were lots of opportunities for ambushes, which Heavy enjoyed. If you weren't prepared for Sasha in a place like that, she would shred you instantly. Heavy liked that.
It also made it a more interesting place to search compared to some of the other places they had fought, even if it took more time. It didn't bother him though - Medic could go on and on about his experiments and future plans which, although at times disturbing, were always interesting in a morbid way. Spending time with him was easy and mostly comfortable, even if collecting viscera was not.
They made their way through each room, this time mostly talking about what had happened that day, laughing and sharing stories of who they'd killed and how. Often they'd been working together to do it of course, which only made it better as they could mutually embellish each other's stories. It was during one of these while Heavy was roaring with laughter when he caught something out of the corner of his eye.
"A whole body!" Medic wooped with delight. "Ooh, how lucky! Just what I wanted!"
A whole body was indeed rare, although that wasn't what Heavy was thinking about.
It was a dead Medic crumpled against one wall, his back to him, bleeding and still. A dead BLU Medic, to be specific, but still. A dead Medic.
He didn't like seeing dead Medics. The two doctors looked identical at a quick glance, particularly at certain angles. He didn't like it.
When he'd signed on as a mercenary here, Heavy had expected to fight other men, as he had with all his other jobs. Instead, he found himself fighting doppelgangers (as Medic had called them) of him and his whole team. They were given no explanation for it, just as there was no explanation for the Respawn machine. They just expected them to accept it, somehow, as if that wasn't unreasonable. That first time Heavy was sure he had stumbled into some kind of surreal, confusing nightmare. How was this possible? Why? What purpose did it serve?
He'd spent a lot of time at first pondering the philosophical implications of it with Engineer, trying to find a way to understand it so he could continue to fight each day. He'd learned a lot about American schools of thought as it came to the self and identity, but nothing accounted for a situation like this. How could it?
In the end, it was simply constant endless exposure that made it routine. His doppelganger was inexplicable, but he was an enemy and he could kill him and get paid for it, and in the end that was what mattered.
Heavy didn't think about it, or tried not to at least, but when it came to this, it crept back with an ugly discomfort. The two Medics were mirrors of each other, identical in almost every respect. He'd learned to accept and ignore the questions of his own doppelganger; it was so much harder to ignore this one. Even in battle when he killed the BLU Medic, he never looked at him for long.
Or he tried not to, anyway.
The BLU Medic still had on his Medpack, which helped somewhat. The bright blue color of the class insignia was unmistakable, a reminder that this wasn't his Medic. It wasn't his Medic, and thus should be unremarkable, as were all the other clones, or doppelgangers, or whatever they were.
He should be unremarkable. Something about the dead body bothered him.
His Medic behind him moved forward, and Heavy held out his hand to stop him. Medic made a questioning, confused sound, but didn't push past him. Heavy took slow, cautious steps towards the dead Medic, watching him carefully. Just in case. Always just in case.
He knelt down beside the still body and sure enough, he was right. The man's chest was moving, just slightly.
"Is still alive," Heavy said, catching white out of the corner of his eye as his Medic now stood beside him.
"Ooh, even better," Medic said, and he could hear his grin. "It will be completely fresh! Ooo, I could use a new liver, Demoman goes through them so quickly! How exciting!"
Medic's doppelganger didn't seem to bother him at all. Heavy had seen him cut his self open to steal all sorts of body parts without any qualms, purely fascinated by the whole thing. He didn't know how he did that. It was a sight that often featured in his dreams.
Heavy knew he shouldn't but he couldn't help himself; he reached out to grab the BLU Medic's shoulder and roll him over. The man groaned as he did so, revealing several bullet wounds in his chest. It should have killed him, but here he was, still breathing.
"Strange is not dead," Heavy said, staring at the BLU Medic's battered face. His glasses were askew and he had a streak of blood running down his temple. Head wounds looked very dramatic, but didn't indicate serious injury most of the time - his Medic had told him that once with a tinge of disappointment. "Must be healing himself."
"Oh, yes, probably." His Medic behind him tilted his head, rubbing his chin curiously. "If he wasn't entirely dead, then he could have come back from it. Eventually. Hmm." He paused in thought. Medic's self-regeneration was a miracle, a welcome one whenever he was injured in battle, but he treated it just as a fun curiousity. Heavy didn't know how he did that either.
Heavy looked back to the BLU Medic. His face was twisted in pain, his mouth slightly open as he struggled to breathe. He twitched sharply, as though he wanted to cough but couldn't manage it. He was clearly in agony.
Where is your partner? Heavy thought to himself. Where is my twin? Did he leave you? He gritted his teeth. He should not have let this happen to you.
"Well!" Medic said cheerfully, snapping his heels together as he pulled out his bonesaw. "No time like the present! Can you open his coat for me, Heavy?"
Heavy should have, but he found himself hesitating. It was his clothes that marked him as BLU... looking at his face, he was just Medic. It was very easy, extremely easy, to picture his own doctor in a situation like this. Lying abandoned somewhere between checkpoints, helpless and in terrible pain.
If the BLU Heavy had found his doctor like this, what would he want him to do?
"Heavy?"
If the Medic had died, he would have appeared in his Respawn. Surely his team would have noticed he was gone by now.
Surely his Heavy would have noticed.
"Oh, Heavy, it's not bothering you, is it?" Medic leaned to one side as he rested a hand on his hip. "It's not me."
"I know."
"And he's almost dead anyway!" Medic shrugged. "If I kill him now, then he'll go right off to his Respawn, whoosh!" Medic waved a hand. "Really, we'd be doing him a favor. He looks very unhappy."
The BLU Medic DID look very unhappy. He groaned again and it sounded entirely too familiar.
"And I'd get all those fresh organs!" This argument Medic was much more invested in and it showed. "Perfect condition! Undamaged! All of them! You know how rare that is!"
"I know."
"Oh Heavy, just let me finish him off." Although he already sounded disappointed. He must have known how this would end. "Really, it's for the best. He'd thank me for it!"
"His Heavy is looking for him." Heavy felt the urge to readjust the BLU Medic's glasses on his face, but refrained. Of course, it wasn't a matter of if the other Heavy was looking for his Medic. He would be doing it, if he had anything in common with Heavy at all, and he knew he did. He faced him in combat every day.
"I suppose." Medic crossed his arms with a frown. "But, if we kill him, then he'll be able to find him in his Respawn much faster."
Heavy shook his head, his mind already made up, and he heard Medic let out an exasperated sigh behind him.
"Ach, Heavy," Medic said. "He's not me, it's fine. He's just a body full of organs! Fresh, healthy organs for everyone! Do you really want to give that up?"
He couldn't stop thinking of the BLU Heavy finding the RED Medic, his Medic, helpless like this. He couldn't stop thinking of what he'd want that Heavy to do.
What would he want himself to do?
Another pained whimper was enough for him. He threaded his hands underneath the BLU Medic and lifted him up into his arms.
Medic, either Medic, wasn't small or slight like Scout, but compared to Sasha, they were nothing. The BLU Medic slumped against his chest, his head fitting in naturally on his shoulder beside his neck. The weight was familiar in a way he didn't want.
He'd held his own Medic like this many times, although in very different circumstances. He'd thought then how naturally they fit together, how easily Medic fit in his arms against him. It was the same. He could hear and feel the BLU Medic's pained breathing now, the warmth of his body and blood on his hands.
He could also feel his own Medic's eyes on him.
"Really?" Medic meant it as incredulous, but it was too irritated for that. He didn't like this any more than Heavy did, clearly, but Heavy couldn't leave the other Medic here, and the thought of hearing his dying scream as he was cut apart was unbearable. "Really? He has so much blood, Heavy!" His voice was evening out. "Well, maybe not as much as he normally would, but still plenty of it! I could do so much with it! It could be all ours!"
"All yours," Heavy said as he started walking. Medic fell in beside him, although he made it clear he didn't want to. "I do not want blood."
"It helps all of us," Medic said, as though he had anyone's concerns but his own in mind when he was out scavenging bodies. "You're being very selfish about this."
"Maybe," Heavy said, and Medic shook his head and sighed.
"He's not me."
"He's looking for him."
"He's not you either."
"Is not me, but close. Very close," Heavy said, still uncomfortable with the idea deep down. He could face him in battle each day, but thinking about it more than that never ended anywhere productive. "He will want his Doctor back."
Medic shook his head again with an annoyed scoffing sound. "He shouldn't have lost him in the first place," he said, under his breath.
At that Heavy nodded.
It didn't take long to find his counterpart. To his credit, the BLU Heavy was moving quickly when they saw him, looking frantically over each room, clearly distressed with his shotgun in hand. Just in case, of course. Just as Heavy had brought his own, just in case.
They often thought alike, but how alike? He tended to think of the BLU Heavy as an extension of himself, but it wasn't as if they'd ever had the opportunity to talk.
Heavy didn't really want to talk to him. That felt dangerous.
He saw the BLU Heavy's eyes widen as he caught sight of his Medic, relief and concern plain to see. When he saw who was holding him, it steeled down into wariness.
They stood there for a few moments, staring at each other in silence. At times, the BLU Heavy's eyes would flick to the side, looking at the RED Medic standing just behind Heavy. As low as the possibility seemed for the BLU Heavy to attack them, it wasn't impossible, and it was Heavy's place to be his shield.
His enemy's gaze tightened when he looked at his RED doctor, which he didn't like. It was hard to read. They'd never seen each other outside of battle - maybe he was surprised that his Medic was here with him. Maybe he was jealous that his Medic was perfectly fine. Heavy didn't know. He just didn't like how he stared.
How did you let this happen to your doctor? Heavy wanted to say but didn't. He could see it on the BLU Heavy's face when he looked down at the unconscious man in his arms, like he could sense his judgmental thoughts, like he knew he had failed him. And he had failed him. Under no circumstances should he ever have let his doctor end up like this. Why didn't you protect him? Do you even care?
He heard his Medic shift beside him in the silence and the faint sound of him toying with the trigger of his syringe gun. He wasn't sure if RED and BLU had ever stood in the same room like this for this long without trying to murder each other.
The BLU Heavy stared at the BLU Medic, regret and guilt clear on his face. In the thick silence, it felt impossible for anyone to say anything.
Heavy shifted his grip a little, and at the movement the BLU Medic groaned in pain again. Instantly his Heavy took a step forward, his brow furrowed with fearful concern.
"Doctor...!" It was hushed and worried, something instinctual and raw. Had their positions been reversed, Heavy knew he'd want to tear his Medic away from this interloper and take him to safety. He'd want to shove and yell and kill whoever had done this to him, or anyone nearby he could blame for it. That someone else could be holding him in this state would have been intolerable. Medic belonged in no one's arms but his, and definitely not the arms of his enemy that killed him day in and day out, especially if he was wounded this badly.
How alike were he and the BLU Heavy?
Could he really say with certainty that they weren't the same person, in the end?
He heard a faint sound over his shoulder and took a moment to glance at his own Medic, healthy and strong. He looked troubled and uncomfortable, with an uncertain frown.
The BLU Heavy's voice did sound like his own. Hearing that pain and worry in a word that could easily be directed at him... how did he feel about this? He was so cavalier with his own doppelganger, but...
The BLU Heavy held his hands out to him, silently pleading for him to return what was his. The fury at having to ask had to be burning inside him, but what mattered now was getting his doctor back. Heavy was sure of it.
It was how he'd feel about it, after all.
Heavy felt like he should say something, even though the silent weight of his judgment seemed to say it all.
"Do not leave your doctor like this," Heavy said, finally, and he held him out to his counterpart. He could see anger flare in his doppelganger's eyes at being told something he already knew. He knew he'd failed, and he did not want it rubbed in his face.
The BLU Heavy took the BLU Medic from his arms, cradling him far more gently, and there, the matching colors felt natural. Heavy hadn't ever seen himself when doing this with his own Medic, but it had to look just like this. He was sick of looking in a mirror.
The BLU Medic moaned miserably, and the BLU Heavy leaned his head down a little towards him.
"Doctor, is okay. It's me," he said gently, intended only for the two of them to hear, although it wasn't soft enough to do so. The BLU Medic groaned again in response, feebly trying to raise a hand as if to reach for him. "Will take you back now."
His counterpart looked up at Heavy and their eyes met, and again a few moments of tense silence ensued. When it felt almost unbearable, finally the BLU Heavy moved just slightly, and that was enough to break it. He turned to walk away from them, casting constant glances over his shoulder to make sure they weren't following.
Heavy waited until they were out of sight before letting out a long breath.
"Hmph. Dummkopf," Medic said by his side, although he sounded strange. Heavy looked at him, but he looked away.
They turned away back to their own business, Medic taking his bucket with a huff. It was quiet for an uncomfortable minute or two.
"He's not me," Medic said, eventually. "You didn't have to do that."
"To him, he is you," Heavy said, then frowned. "Is... hmm." He scratched his chin in thought. He hated it when English failed him like this. "Not sure how to say."
He'd seen the enemy Heavy and Medic at work together, perfect partners and a dangerous threat. Their mirror, their twins. How far did that extend? What were their lives like when they went back to their own base? Did they have their own dreams, their own preferences, their own memories?
He'd heard something in how the BLU Heavy had called his doctor's name. Were they close only in battle, or outside as well? Did the BLU Heavy and Medic drink together, laugh together, share jokes together?
Did they hold each other, did they kiss each other? Did they have sex and lay together afterwards, hands entertwined, lost in hazy pleasant thoughts about each other and the next battle to come?
He'd heard something in the BLU Heavy's voice, and he was sure he wasn't the only one.
"Such a shame to lose all those organs." Medic said with a tsk, his grip maybe too tight on the bucket's handle. "So many of them all at once! Such a waste."
"There will be others."
"Hmph. Maybe. If we're lucky, and who knows when that will be." Medic sniffed. He knew that tone well - Medic was angry and was going to punish him for it later. Not that Heavy minded - they both rather enjoyed it, and it would be a good way to relieve some of the uncomfortable feelings about this strange encounter. They'd both need it, he was sure.
And after all, what did he expect? He'd made him give up a full intact body. Of course he was going to be upset. It would blow over though, it always did. His Medic's bad moods didn't last very long.
After a moment, Heavy felt he had to say something. It was too loud to keep in his head.
"If BLU found you like that, I would want them to give you back."
It took a little longer than he would have thought for Medic to respond.
"Imagine! How did he not know he'd left him there until the match was over? Careless! So careless! Dummkopf! What if he hadn't come to find him at all, and he was having dinner with the others and then his Medic came in looking like that, having healed all by himself because he forgot him? Unbelievable! He would never trust him again!"
Heavy looked over at him with a raised eyebrow as his voice got louder and angrier.
"You don't treat your Medic like that. We're too important." He pointed at him with his free hand. "You know that. We all know that, and still! He should have known immediately that he was gone! He should know where he is at all times!" To which Heavy unconsciously nodded his head. He definitely always kept track of his Medic during battle; he did his job properly. "How could he have lost him? And to act like that when he saw him again...! I can't believe that BLU Heavy!"
"BLU Medic make him sleep on couch, maybe." Heavy had heard the phrase somewhere before and it seemed apt. He smirked, although he was curious now. Did Medic also wonder about what his counterpart was up to? Did he wonder if their doppelgangers matched them in even their personal lives?
"It'd be what he deserves." Medic scoffed again, and Heavy shook his head fondly. No, he doubted his Medic got caught up in questions like that. He just assumed the answer and rushed in, as he always did. "He'll be lucky if he ever sleeps with him again."
"They will make up eventually."
"Bah."
Heavy laughed once, slightly.
"Come on, we have to find something usable around here, since you took away the one intact body I've found in weeks..."
His doctor led the way, and as always he followed.
---
Later that night, Heavy found himself returning to the strange encounter. He struggled to focus on the words in his book, reading them over and over again to no avail. He tried to focus on the memory of the stripes on his back - of course his doctor had healed him carefully afterwards (although he didn't enjoy that as much as inflicting them) so they didn't hurt at all, but he could still remember the pain. Usually dwelling on the memory was calming, but not now. Still he could picture the BLU Medic, battered and bleeding, bullet holes fresh on his chest. Still he could hear the pain in the Heavy's voice as he called for him.
He sighed and took off his reading glasses, then glanced beside him. Medic was writing something in a notebook, cross-referencing it with a large book by his side. Both were in German, so he didn't bother to try and read them. He was leaning just slightly against his shoulder, on occasion humming or chuckling darkly to himself about whatever it was he was working on. Maybe it was better if Heavy didn't know.
Medic's weight and heat beside him were so familiar, it was hard to remember a time he didn't sleep with him by his side. His mind kept casting back to that mirror, wondering if it reflected this as well.
"Keep thinking about that Medic," Heavy said, although it took longer than he thought to make the words come.
Medic didn't look up from what he was doing. "I don't want to talk about that."
If Medic really didn't want to talk about it, he would have cheerily said "Goodnight, Heavy!", rolled over, and steadfastly ignored any attempt Heavy made to talk to him until he gave up and went to sleep. As it was, he was still sitting up, so he didn't mean it. Probably.
"You think they are like this? BLU Medic and Heavy? In bed together?"
Medic still didn't look up from his notes, his pen in hand, although Heavy noticed he wasn't actually writing. He managed a shrug, barely. "Probably. Who knows?"
"You don't think about this?" Heavy angled himself more towards him, prompting Medic to sigh. "You don't think it's interesting?"
"They're just Doppelgänger, Großer," Medic said casually, still without looking up. "They aren't real."
"They bleed and die like real people."
"They're not real," Medic said again, with an almost unnatural disinterest. "I wouldn't worry about it."
Did he really believe that? Heavy couldn't quite accept it. He'd always said that, but it had to be different this time. How could it not be?
"Keep thinking of if it was you who was hurt. If it was BLU Heavy holding you to give back to me." He couldn't help the rising frustration in his voice. "Telling me not to let you get hurt. I know that! Of course I know that! I would never let you get hurt like that! Makes me so angry." He paused, taking a breath to calm himself. "But, I would want you back more than anything, so I would not say."
Medic finally set his pen down and looked at him. He didn't look bored now.
"I am thinking, this must be how BLU Heavy feels." He gestured with one huge hand. "Must be angry, like me. How much is BLU Heavy like me? Do we think the same? Feel the same? Maybe we are same person?" He sighed. "It bothers me."
"It would really make you that angry?" Medic said, calmly interested in marked contrast to Heavy's anger. "To have him say that to you?" Then he smirked. "Or to have him hold me like that?"
"Of course I do not want him holding you like that." Heavy frowned, although he knew that was what Medic wanted to hear. Sure enough, he smiled with a pleased hum. Medic liked it when Heavy was jealous - it made him feel important. "You are not his doctor. And do not want him telling me how to do my job."
Medic laughed once without opening his mouth. It was a little like he was laughing at him, which Heavy didn't like. This wasn't funny.
"You did not like me holding him," Heavy said, and sure enough, he saw a twitch through Medic's shoulders. "So it bothers you too, even if you say it doesn't."
"It doesn't bother me." Medic picked up his pen and touched it to another part of his notebook, as if he was going to start writing again to dismiss the conversation. He still didn't actually write anything. "They're not real."
"They're real to each other." Still, the phrasing on that was strange, but he couldn't think of a better way to say it. "Maybe we are ones who are fake to them. You think about this? Maybe we are the..." He hated trying to pronounce the word, he always got it wrong. "Dapeelganyi..."
"Doppelgänger," Medic corrected automatically. Heavy let Medic do that, as he let him do many things, but he was the only one who could. "And don't be silly."
"How do you know that you are real one? That you are first one? Maybe we just think we are first ones."
"Heavy." Medic sighed, leaning his head back against the headboard to give him a very weary look. "I said I don't want to talk about this. It doesn't matter. They're not real."
"They did not seem even a little real to you?"
Medic rolled his eyes and looked back down to his notebook.
"You did not think that BLU Heavy was worried for his doctor?"
"He wouldn't have left him if he cared about him," Medic said, although he sounded uncomfortable. He tsked. "So irresponsible."
"You heard him say his name. That did not sound real to you?"
Medic's mouth twisted uncertainly, then he shook his head. "It doesn't matter, Heavy, all we need to do is kill them tomorrow."
Heavy paused to think. Medic was tapping his pen against the page of his notebook - he was a little annoyed, he could tell. Heavy couldn't say he didn't feel the same, honestly.
Really, he should have dropped this, but it was going to bother him all night if he didn't get it out somehow.
"I can think of how BLU Heavy feels," Heavy said, folding his hands on his stomach. "Am sure I am right. Would be worried for you, and so angry at myself for leaving you." And Medic hmmphed at that, although he didn't sound displeased. "How do you think BLU Medic feels?"
"How should I know?" Medic said quickly, looking uncomfortable again.
"How would you feel, if you were hurt and alone like that? Maybe same as BLU Medic right now. Maybe same." Heavy pressed on, noting that Medic was looking away from him. "If I came back to get you later from BLU Heavy, would you be angry with me?"
"Of course I'd be angry with you," Medic snapped, although his voice softened after a moment. "But you would never do that, Großer, you're far too careful. You don't need to think about this kind of thing." He tapped his pen on the back of Heavy's hand. "And you don't need to make yourself angry about it."
"Am not angry. Just thinking."
Medic tapped the back of his hand again, causing Heavy to look down. His fingers were clenched tight in the blanket. He loosened his grip as Medic turned back to his notebook with a smirk.
Heavy leaned back against the headboard with a defeated sigh. "Just hard to stop thinking. Keep hearing him call for doctor. Sounds just like me."
"He's your Doppelgänger," Medic said in a sing-song reminding tone. "Of course he does."
"He just wanted his doctor back." Heavy stared up at the ceiling. "I would want my doctor back."
"Yes, you've said." Although Medic was smiling.
Heavy paused to think. "You would want your Heavy back?"
Medic blinked for a moment, then turned to look at him with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
"What do you mean? Of course I would." Medic's brow was furrowed.
"You would forgive me? For letting you get hurt and forgetting you?"
Medic gave him a long, confused stare. "Well, I'd make you sorry first of course, but you would never do that, Großer. You're too careful, I told you."
"If BLU Heavy could do it, maybe Heavy could do it too." The words felt sudden and ugly in his mouth. Was that what was bothering him?
"Oh stop." Medic rolled his eyes. "You'd never. You're being ridiculous about this."
"It bothers me." Maybe he was, but it didn't change how he felt about it. It would have been nice if it could though, he didn't like this at all.
"The BLU Heavy is a fool who lets his Medic get hurt." He looked back down at his notebook with a haughty sniff. "That's not our concern. If anything, we should be glad they're making our job easier."
"Hate seeing you get hurt."
"I know."
"Hate seeing you die."
"I know." Medic sounded exasperated now, and he snapped his notebook shut. "Look, what will it take to get your mind off of this?"
Heavy thought for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. "Do not know." He frowned. "Want to stop thinking about it, but I do not know how."
Medic made an annoyed noise, and it was quiet for a few moments of mutual thought. Then he moved to rest his hand on Heavy's broad chest in a silent invitation.
Heavy looked back down at him. Sex would be distracting... and would definitely remind him of just how alive they were. He took Medic's hand in his own and leaned over to kiss him, and that was that.
He clutched Medic very tightly to him, enough for him to faintly protest, as they fell asleep afterwards.
---
The next day went as all the others before it, their team dispatched to a familiar locale to wage their constant war. The others met their doppelgangers with the same nonchalance as they always did. If they struggled with the same identity crisis, they didn't let it show.
Heavy saw the BLU Medic again, but only for a moment. He bounced his eyes away from him, almost as if he was afraid of what he'd see. It wasn't a long enough look to see his expression - was the Medic grateful or angry or confused about what had happened? Did he even remember it?
The BLU Heavy attacked them with no hesitation, and Heavy retaliated just the same. Back to normal.
He didn't look at the BLU Medic, and it was back to normal.