Chapter Text
Scout hadn't exactly been surprised per say when he was assigned the job of finding Spy, as much as it felt inappropriate, given his and Spy's generally less than spectacular relationship, Scout was, after Spy, (who wasn't able to rescue himself, obviously) the best man for the job. He fastest of all the mercs, and with years of experience for finding and snatching Blu intelligence, he was the obvious choice for getting in and out of enemy lines quickly.
Ms. Pauling had grimaced telling them the news. Spy had (presumably) been captured while doing one of the many assignments regularly given to the mercs over long weekends. Reconnaissance, body burying, etc. He had gone silent for several days in the middle of the mission, and Mann co. headquarters (probably that scary old lady Ms. Pauling worked for) had received a distress signal right as his absence was beginning to seem concerning. They had managed to track the signal. It was several hundred miles away from Spy's originally assigned location, and they presumed that he had been captured while in the middle of the job, and had then been moved to a separate location.
Ms. Pauling had spread out a large blueprint of the building they were preparing to enter, and told the mercs their best bet was to memorize the layout, and predict where the most enemies would be. The most surprising fact of the mission so far, was that it had not in fact, been the blue team which had captured their spy, rather a separate company, one that, according to Ms. Pauling, had reason to oppose man co. and had most likely taken Spy in an attempt to get information from the inside of the company. She did not tell the team what exactly Spy had been doing on his mission that had put him in harm’s way, but she did emphasize that his rescue was very important.
Scout was a bit surprised they were rescuing Spy at all, given the companies generally laissez faire approach to replacing mercenaries. Not that he didn't want Spy to come back, or anything! The guy was an asshole, but Scout didn't really want him to be replaced entirely. Still, He had been pretty confused about it in the days leading up to the rescue, until he overheard a hushed conversation between medic and engineer, whispering about how the scary lady probably wanted to be sure of whether Spy was alive or dead, that Mann co. would want to figure out if he had given up any classified information. and if he had, be the ones to kill him themselves.
The plan Ms. Pauling set out was as simple as it could be, given the circumstances. Spy was (most likely) being held (if he was still alive) in the underbelly of a facility in the Nevada desert. The mercs were given full permission to overrun the place and kill anyone who stood in their way, as long as they didn't damage to much valuable information, and with the main goal of finding and recovering spy. It would be the job of sniper, engineer, and demo, to get the mercs inside of the building. After they got in heavy, pyro, soldier, and demo would begin to create as much chaos as possible, to draw the enemies defense away from wherever they were keeping spy, most likely in the corner of the map that scout would be assigned to getting in and out of as quick as possible, looking for spy. Scout would have medic and engineer as backup, drawing away defense, and prepared to assist spy in whatever state he might be in.
Scout tried not to think about the implication that spy would be in any “state” other than his usual snarky assholery as he sprinted through the darkened building. Gunshots and explosions could be heard in the distance and the ringing of the building’s emergency alarm hadn't changed volume since the main attack squad had blasted into the building, a few minutes before Scout, Engineer, and Medic, had snuck in through a weak point in the security on the other side of the facility.
Despite the distant battle, and the ringing of the alarm, Scout still felt anxious sprinting alone through the dark corridors, trying to keep track of where he was with the blurry image of the blueprint in his head. He had left Medic and Engineer behind soon after entering the building, keeping in contact with them and the rest of the team through his headpiece, but right now there was no voices in his ear, just the ringing of the alarm, the sound of his feet hitting the concrete, the familiar shape of his scattergun in his hand. Normally in a moment like this he would talk to himself, whoop and holler and make some noise, just to keep his mind off the situation at hand. Unfortunately, today, he had to keep quiet. He sped through the halls, checking doors to see if they were unlocked, slowing around corners to check for enemies.
He slowed as he neared the end of a corridor, pressing himself against the wall to check around the corner. A quick peek and Scout spotted someone, in an unfamiliar uniform, the first person he had seen since leaving Medic and Engie behind. He pressed himself to the wall, trying to keep his breathing as shallow and even as he could. He took a slow deep breath, doing his best to clear his head. It was one guy, get in, knock him down, and keep going.
Scout burst out from his hiding spot, letting several shots fly from his scattergun, in the general direction of the enemy. The man was quick to draw his own weapon, but certainly not quick enough to catch Scout, who just missed the stream of bullets that impacted with the concrete wall behind him. Scout left his scattergun in his left hand, his right reaching behind him to grab his bat from over his shoulder as he ran past the man, managing to get behind the enemy before he could turn around far enough to get a good shot, and slammed the bat into the back of his head. the man collapsed, and Scout quickly fired a shot from his scattergun into the man's head, a final blow, to be sure he was dead.
Scout gave himself a moment to be proud of his work, probably the most impressive attack he had ever accomplished, Ms Pauling would probably give him an award if she had seen it.
The man had to have been here for a reason though, and Scout dared to let himself believe that it was because he was getting near to Spy's location. Scout pressed the talk button on the side of his headpiece.
“Just took down one of their guys, I think I’m gettin close.”
“COPY THAT SOLDIER!” Soldier shouted into Scouts ear, the sounds of a more intense, distant battle ringing through for just a moment, before cutting out.
Scout looked down again at the bloody corpse of the man, figuring he should probably check for anything useful, which turned out to be a great idea, because a bulge in the side of the deceased man's pants pocket turned out to be a ring of keys, which Scout promptly pocketed, before looking up once again to purvey his surroundings and heading forwards. The corridor Scout had entered was lined with what looked like prison cells, starting just past where scout had attacked who he assumed must have been some sort of guard.
He had to be close, so he started moving again, eyes peeled for any movement as he neared the cells. The anxiety that had disappeared with the rush of adrenaline from the fight came back with a passion now, as Scout put his bat back over his shoulder, and went back to holding his scatter gun with both hands. They all appeared to be empty, as far as Scout could tell. Shooting glances back and forth as he reached the end of the hall, taking a left, where, if his memories of the blueprint served him correctly, the hall should open to a larger room.
Scout's memory (for once in his life) did serve him, and he turned the corner to said larger room, a set of metal bars, like the ones at the cells became visible, and through the bars, a shape. Scout kept his gun steady as he came closer, and his stomach lurched at what he saw. Through the bars, and the barred door of the room, scout saw what appeared to be a man, kneeling on the ground, ankles bound together, arms tied up over his head. It had to be Spy, but even in dim light of the room, Scout could tell that something was wrong. The “state” that Spy was in was certainly not the usual one. Spy’s clothes seemed to have been wrecked, his suit jacket and top were completely gone, leaving behind a thin undershirt, what remained of the pinstriped pants was torn up mess. What was left of the fabric was ruined, covered in what scout could only assume, based on the smell coming from the room, was some mixture of blood, urine, and vomit. Worst of all, his baklava was missing. Seeing the man’s face, even from a distance, in this nightmare scenario, felt like a crime.
In a rush, Scout pulled the keys he had nabbed out of his pocket, fumbling through them, trying to get the lock on the gate to open.
“SPY?!” He shouted, it had to be him. it had to be.
“YOU’RE NOT GETTING ANYTHING OUT OF ME YOU BASTARDS-”
That was Spy's voice, for sure, and although it was loud enough to be heard over the, now a bit distant, blaring alarm, it had lost any of Spy's usual attitude. It broke off at the end of the sentence, with a coughing fit, and Scout was responding in a shaky voice when he managed to find the right key.
“SPY?! It’s me! We're busting you outta here!”
Spy's face turned in Scouts direction just as he pushed the door open and came near him. The closer scout got, the more his stomach twisted, Spy was even worse up close, his face, painfully naked without the balaclava, was a mess, his nose had clearly been broken at some point, with dried blood still remaining and running down his face, all the way down to his shirt. One of his eyes was swollen, and there was blood matted in unfamiliar sandy grey streaked hair. The stubble that was normally visible under spy's balaclava had grown longer than spy ever let it get normally. It also appeared as if several of his teeth were missing. What got to Scout the most though, was the older man’s eyes. They had a wild, distant look in them, and they widened when he made eye contact with Scout.
Spy was sitting on his legs, ankles bound together tightly, and his ankles and feet were clearly swollen from the pressure, his arms, most likely the only thing holding him up, were bound at the wrist, also swollen, with a long rope tied to a cold metal pole holding the man in a somewhat upright position.
Scout pulled a knife from inside his shoulder bag as he walked over and kneeled next the older man. Spy attempted to move back a bit as Scout approached. He seemed unsure of whether or he could trust scout.
“Oh shit, okay fuck, okay. Spy? I'm gonna cut these off ya okay? Hold still.” Scout leaned down to get at the ropes at spy's ankles.
“Jeremy?” Spy's voice was rough, and broken, and Scout startled at his name.
“What? No- Yeah- thats- Spy, it's me, its scout-” scout spluttered, nearly dropping the knife in surprise, still working at the rope around spy's ankles. How the hell did Spy know his name? He shook himself mentally, it wasn’t important right now, Spy was a Spy, it was his job to know things he shouldn’t. Scouts knife broke through the rope right as Spy spoke again.
“S- Sc- Scout? You're- You- comment vas-tu ici?’’
“I don’t speak French man-, I’m- we're rescuing you, lemmie just-” Scouts voice was shaky, and he was trying his best not to startle Spy with any sudden movements, he reached up over Spy to get at his wrists,
“Don't move okay I’m tryin to get you outta here.” Scout said, trying his best to sound reassuring. Scout had never in his life thought he would ever end up trying to reassure Spy of all people.
Scout’s eyes widened when he got a closer look at spy's hands, and he had to stop himself from gagging. Spy's hands were a mess, with several of his fingers sticking out at odd angles and nails bleeding and missing entirely, no wonder he hadn't managed to free himself from the ropes.
“Jeremy? c'est dangereux-’’ Spy had said Scouts name again, and hearing Spy refer to him by it startled Scout almost as bad as it did the first time.
“Yeah- I got you jesus fuck- okay-” Scout was failing at reassuring, hell he was failing at coherency. The knife finally sliced through the last bit of rope holding Spy's hands, and Spy's body went limp, head hitting Scouts shoulder.
“Jeremy- I’m sorry- je suis désolé-’’
Scout felt Spy's shoulders bob up, a breath caught in the older man’s throat. Scout stiffened, and something like sobs began to break out of Spy’s mouth.
Scout was panicking at this point; he was not prepared for this.
“Fuck- Hey- None of that shit-” Fuck this was weird. Scout had needed to get Spy out of here, whatever the fuck this was could happen later.
“We've gotta get you outta here man- fuck- I'm gonna stand us up now okay- just- try to help me out here.”
The (hopefully not) sobbing broke off as Scout moved to Spy's side. He slung Spy's arm over his shoulder, careful of his injured hand, and slid an arm around Spy's side. He held onto Spy's lower arm, trying to avoid touching the dark bruises that were left from the ropes as he pulled them into a standing position.
“SOLDIER! REPORT! HAVE YOU LOCATED THE SPY?!”
Scout cringed as soldiers Soldiers voice suddenly rang through his headpiece, the mercenaries loud voice ringing in Scouts ear. When Scout recovered from the burst of adrenaline from the shout, he realized he had entirely forgot to alert the team that he had found Spy. Scout fumbled for the talk button on his mic.
“Shit- Yeah, I got him! He's in pretty rough condition, I need medic asap.”
Medic's voice came through the earpiece now,
“Herr scout, I am near the pickup point, where can I meet you?”
“We're near the area with- the uh. that one room?” scout said, trying his best to keep his voice even “The uh, holdin area, I think Ms. Pauling called it, I can meet you at the pickup point.” Scout ran the images of the blueprints through his mind again, hoping and praying he remembered correctly, getting lost in here, with spy, would not end well.
“Da. Copy. I will meet you there.”
Scout let his finger off of the talk button on the headset and readjusted Spy's weight on his side, as he prepared to move.
“Alright,” he said to the man hanging from him “we're gettin outta here, okay? We just gotta get to Medic, he’s gonna fix you up. Just try an walk with me, alright?”
Spy mumbled something in French, and Scout hoped it was affirmative.
They made their way out of the dark room he had found spy in, and up past the body of the man who had (most likely) been there to keep watch over Spy. Scout wondered if he had been the one who had tortured Spy, who had done twisted him into the state he was in, and Scout suddenly wished he had made the man's death much, much, more painful.
Getting to the pickup point took far longer than getting to Spy had initially. The older man was mostly dead weight, which was unsurprising, given the state he was in, and Scout had to practically drag him all the way there.
Spy was silent as they made their way forward, his breathing was irregular and heavy. He was clearly trying to make some attempt to help them move faster, but it wasn't doing much. Spy was barely able to put one foot in front of the other.
For the first time in a several minutes, Spy spoke again.
“J-Jeremy?”
The use of his given name was still incredibly off putting, but Scout tried to respond naturally,
“Yeah man- We-We're almost there, okay? Just gotta keep going a bit longer-”
“je suis désolé- I’m sorry-” Spy said, his voice was quiet, almost silent, and suddenly he went limp against Scout, and the weight him like a ton of bricks. The man seemed to have lost consciousness. That was not a good sign. Scout hoped that he had lost consciousness from exhaustion, not blood loss.
Slowly, slower than Scout ever liked to move, he made his way up to the meeting point. Medic, along with Engineer, was already there when they arrived, and his eyes widened when he saw spy.
Spy's limp head was tilted down, and Scout felt horrible that more of the team was going to see the man unmasked. Before this, trying to get spy's balaclava off was a bit of a game, seeing him without it on was a stupid fun mystery, that led into chaos and hijinks whenever an attempt to remove it was made. Now it felt deadly serious, like something no man should know.
“The battle is mostly over now.” Engineer said, as he came over to help Scout carry Spy over to one of the walls to sit him down. “The rest of the team is working its way over here; our ride should be over soon.” Engineer was trying to avoid looking at Spy's face, Medic seemed unbothered by it though, as he looked over the man, seemingly taking note of the visible injuries Spy had sustained.
“Herr scout, you said you found him in the holding area? Do you have any idea what caused all this?”
Scout shook his head just a bit.
“He was tied up, hands an feet, that's why they're all swollen up, looks like his nose was broke, and his hands are all fucked up, I'm not sure what they did Doc.”
Medic nodded, taking the arm that wasn't still slung over scout's shoulder to purvey the damage.
”I don't have my medigun on me unfortunately, It is too precious a piece of equipment to have so far away from a respawn, we will have to wait till the ride arrives for more assistance, there will be medical supplies in our transport.” Medic said grimly. “Was he unconscious when you found him?”
“No-” scout said, not sure how much he should say about Spy's behavior, for the sake of sparing the older man’s ego. “But he was pretty outta it, didn’t seem to know what was goin on exactly.”
Medic nodded “He appears to have a head injury, perhaps a concussion as well.”
Medic then reached into his coat pocket, “I thought we might need one of these, I’m glad I thought ahead.” He pulled out a balaclava, similar to Spy's usual fare, although it seemed as if it was a bit bigger than the usual ones. Medic slipped the cloth over Spy's head, and the knot of anxiety that had been growing in Scouts chest lessened just a bit.
Just then, Scout heard a voice in his ear.
“Alright mates I’m gettin near the pickup point. Yah might wanna be gettin there.” Sniper's Australian accent drawled.
Scout pressed the talk button on his headpiece. “Yeah. we're on our way!”
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Spy's breathing was out of control, he tried, so hard, to make it even, but the injuries sustained by his neck made every breath hurt, and the energy it took to pull his head up to alleviate the pain wasn’t worth it, needed to save it for when he came back. Spy's headspace was uneven, out of control, he was spiraling, the only coherent thought in his head was the voice of his mentor “ne leur dis rien!” tell them nothing! Everything was blurred and messy. He wasn't even sure who he was. Was he the spy? Was he Lucian? Was he disguised? It was horrifying to be unsure. One incorrect response could blow his cover- what cover? Was he undercover?
He had been in and outside of his own mind. Techniques to avoid breaking under torture interrigations generally relied on heavy dissociation, putting the mind somewhere else, away from the body. Spy had been in and out of this room, his consciousness projected, into memories mostly. The unfortunate thing about memories, and about being in them, instead of being present in the dark room, was that they left him lost, unsure of where he was. Unsure of who he was. Spy was a man of many faces, and he hadn’t gone by his given name since he had begun working undercover. At this point, many of his disguises blurred together.
Despite being the memory he needed to avoid the most, he found himself falling into places he shouldn’t, finding safety in a woman he should have forgotten by now, in a family he kept trying to leave behind.
His head was pounding. The ringing didn't help, although it was what had gotten the man to leave, so Spy probably should have considered himself lucky. Unfortunately, the alarm only made Spy's head pound harder, so he was barely grateful. It felt like it had been an eternity since the alarm had started blaring, an eternity of Spy trying to breathe, trying to clear the mess in his head. He startled at the sound of bullets, close- too close-. Fear pressed his gut, and Spy tried to press it down the best he could. He was a spy. He was trained for these very situations. He would tell them nothing. He would die if he had to.
The sound of bullets was gone as soon as it had come, and Spy was tried hard to think of what the shooting was from. A part of him, a tiny, weak part of him, dared to hope against hope that it was help, that someone had come for him. That the cause of the alarm, and the bullets, was a reconnaissance team from Mann co. sent to bring him back to the base. The stronger parts of him needed to kill that hope, getting his hopes up, daring to pray that he would be saved, instead of simply saving himself, was a weakness. If it wasn't a rescue team, if spy let his “hope” grow out of control, the drop from that hope could kill him.
“SPY!?”
Spy's years of training kicked in as soon as he heard his name being called.
“YOU’RE NOT GETTING ANYTHING OUT OF ME YOU BASTARDS-” His voice failed him at the end, the pressure on his damaged windpipe sending him into a painful coughing fit.
He heard the something at the entrance of the room, the voice in his head begging the mantra “ne leur dis rien!” tell them nothing! but his thoughts hit a complete halt when he heard the voice speaking to him.
“SPY?! It's me! We're bustin yah outta here!”
Spy heard the metal door of the room creak as- as- Who's voice was that- He knew that voice- he knew it well. He needed to know it; it was important. He heard footsteps coming in his direction and dared to look at who was coming.
The man's (boy's?) face was hard to see in the dim light, and the swelling of his right eye wasn't helping much. As the figure drew closer Spy's eyes widened, and he ached for his balaclava to hide his face. He tried to recall who this man was, he knew him, he was so familiar it pained him. he- Jeremy? Was that his name? That was- Jeremy was his son, was his son here? There was something else Spy was supposed to call him- what was it- his head was already hurting from the effort.
The man, (Jeremy?) reached him quickly, and leaned down near him. Spy felt like he should be more scared, but he couldn't bring himself to be.
“Oh shit, okay fuck, okay. Spy? I'm gonna cut these off ya okay? Hold still.”
“Jeremy?” Spy managed to say the name like a question, his voice barely audible over the alarm.
“What? No- Yeah- thats- Spy, it's me, its Scout-”
But Jeremy- Scout? Jeremy was Scout! His son! He was Jeremy, He was- here? How was he? He shouldn't be here! It was dangerous. Too dangerous. The boy’s mother would kill him for putting him in danger- Was J- Was Scout in danger?
Spy spoke again “S- Sc- Scout? You're- You- comment vas-tu ici?’’ How are you here? Scout? Who was- Scout was Jeremy! Jeremy was here. Jeremy was here?
Spy felt the bonds on his legs come loose, and the blood rushing back to his feet felt like being jabbed all over with pins and needles.
“I don’t speak French man-, I’m- we're rescuing you, lemmie just-” that was Jeremy's voice again, speaking shakily as he shifted from near Spy's feet to move towards his hands “Don't move okay I’m tryin to get you outta here.”
“Jeremy? c'est dangereux-’’ It’s dangerous.
“Yeah- I got you- Jesus fuck- okay-”
Jeremy was leaning over him a few seconds later, a knife, presumably what had freed his feet, was working at the bonds on his wrists, and Spy tensed- even just the smallest movement of the knife made the pain in his hands shoot up. He grimaced when they were finally cut free. He brought his hands close to himself as his upper body went limp when the rope that had been holding him up was severed. His head hit Jeremy's shoulder, and Spy could feel the boy's hands grab his shoulders to support him.
“Jeremy- I’m sorry- je suis désolé-’’ The words came out of Spy's mouth like a waterfall, tears welling up in the man’s eyes as some horrible emotion swelled in his chest. Jeremy shouldn't be here- He- He should be with his mother- He wasn't safe- what if they found him? What if they hurt him? Spy was supposed to keep him safe. He couldn't do that here, not like this, with his mind all blurry and his body destroyed. The boy had seen him like this too. had seen his face. Spy had failed- Spy had failed him-
Spy wasn't crying. Spy couldn't cry. Not here. Not like this. Not when Jeremy could see him, could hear him.
“Fuck- Hey- None of that shit-” Jeremy seemed more alarmed than before. “We've gotta get you outta here man. I'm gonna stand us up now okay- just- try to help me out here” Spy had never been more grateful for years of grueling training on holding back emotions as he reeled himself back in. He couldn’t do this. He needed to breathe, he didn’t have the energy for tears, he didn’t have the strength.
While Spy was recollecting himself, Scout moved to help him stand, and although standing was incredibly painful, it did serve as a good distraction from spiraling thoughts. Jeremy slid an arm around Spy's waist and pulled one of spy's arms over his shoulder. As they stood, the alarm blaring was suddenly cut off, and Spy was close enough to Jeremy to hear a muffled voice say something through the younger man’s headset.
“Shit- Yeah I got him! He's in pretty rough condition, I need medic asap-” Jeremy responded to the voice, and then went quiet again, as more muffled speaking came through “We're near the area with- the uh. that one room?” the younger man paused for a moment, before continuing “The uh, holdin area, I think Ms. Pauling called it, I can meet you at the pickup point.”
Jeremy adjusted them both a bit, and Spy tried his best to not be dead weight.
“Alright,” Jeremy was speaking to him this time, not to the voices from the headset, “We're gettin outta here okay, we just gotta get to Doc, he’s gonna fix you up. Just try and walk with me, alright?”
Doc? The Medic? The Medic was here? Spy's thoughts continued to spiral incoherently as they began the slow walk to the exit of the room. Spy's feet were like lead, each step felt like a herculean effort, even though Spy knew Jeremy was taking most of his weight. It felt like an eternity, exiting the room, and then another eternity up a hall, past what appeared to be a dead man (was that what the shooting noises had been?) and Spy felt himself slipping. Walking was taking much more energy than it should, and Spy's vision was becoming unfocussed.
“Jeremy?” Spy said the boy's name again, and they stilled for a moment.
“Yeah man- We-We're almost there, okay? Just gotta keep going a bit longer-”
Spy's vision was swimming again, his head was pounding, his eyelids felt as heavy as his feet.
“je suis désolé- I’m sorry-” He managed to choke out, right before his vision went black.
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Something in Lucian broke when he looked down onto the small bed, at his small son, sleeping soundly. He didn't have any other choice really, at least not one that he could see. He couldn't put this child in danger, he couldn't stay here. Lucian wasn't set up to be a father in the first place, wasn't prepared, wasn't good at it. The child hardly knew him as it was, with how little he was around. It was better this way. But something in him broke regardless, and his heart ached. Lucian knew how to deal with this heartache though. Lucian knew how to leave things behind. And leaving was certainly better than losing would be.
Lucian brushed a bit of blonde hair from the boy’s face, leaned in, and let his lips brush his child’s forehead.
“Au revoir Jérémie, ton père t'aime.’’ Goodbye Jeremy, your father loves you.
And when Lucian left that room, left that small apartment, He shut the pain in his chest into a small box. Threw the key out of his mind and hoped against hope that the part of him that ached, that shattered when he looked at his son, died at the doorstep.
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Meeting the Scout should have been the same as meeting any of the other mercenaries that had been hired to fight in this hellhole desert. Tolerate being around the other mercenaries long enough to exchange pleasantries with the woman who had hired them, Ms. Pauling, meet the newest fool who had joined this foolish gravel war, number eight of nine hired killers that had arrived, and were yet to arrive at the facility near Tuefort New Mexico, and begin doing what he had done for seven men already, collect information. He was the spy for a reason after all, he would never let himself go into a fight blind, without knowing anything about his ‘teammates.’ Having information, knowing things, about everyone, was the key to his success.
He was hoping the data collecting would be smoother with this mercenary, the last few had been nightmares. The 'Soldier's' records were almost entirely barren, barebone basic information, blood type, name, and not much else. The ‘Pyro’ had been even worse, not a single detail on the person. Not even a name, or a gender. A perfect nightmare scenario for a man that prided himself on having information that others did not.
He would come to regret hoping that finding information on “the scout” would be easy, wishing that he could have not known anything about the man, that the man would be a stranger, that the thick American accent the man had would not sound so similar to the fading memory of a woman he once loved. That the boy’s face would not look so similar to his own.
The fact that Spy even recognized the man (the boy- he was barely a man) Was proof of his own failure to leave the past in the past. A photo stolen from the archives of a Boston public high school, buried in a hidden pocket inside of Spy's designer suit, seemed to burn him now. The fact that he had the photo in the first place was a sign of weakness. It was a part of him that should have died long ago. A box he should have lost the key to was suddenly peeking open, letting horrible things come through.
Years of self-discipline came through for him now, as horrible emotions threatened to claw at his chest, as terror began to grip at his throat, his face stayed calm, his breath stayed even, the only bit of change on his face was a slight widening of eyes, a dilating of pupils, nothing that could be noticed by the casual onlooker.
Spy greeted Ms. Pauling, and then his son. Looking the boy in the eyes for the first time in over twenty years was the most painful thing he had done in a very, very long time. He did not react when the boy introduced himself. He did not take the hand that the boy outstretched and shake it. He did not let his voice waver. He did not let his mask come off.
“I am the spy.”
He felt like he was hearing himself say the words from far away. He barely remembered returning to the room he was beginning to repurpose into a smoking room. At least he did not need to collect information on this mercenary. He had more than he needed already. More than he ever should have had. School records. Birth certificate copies. Photos. The broken thing in his chest was tearing at him. Screaming at him. He had left to keep that boy safe. That boy was now here. He had failed. There was no way that Jeremy- that the Scout, was safe here. Being a mercenary wasn't safe. Being this close to Spy wasn't safe. Fighting a war in a desert wasn't safe.
Spy lit a cigarette. Breathed in nicotine. Blew out smoke.
Spy pulled the photo from the hidden pocket inside his suit. Looked into the eyes of a boy he had tried so hard to leave behind. breath in. breath out. Put the horrible feelings in his mind back into the box. Put the key in some dark corner. Put the photo back into his suit jacket. It would soon join the rest of the information spy had on all of the mercenaries, in a lockbox, in a closet, in a folder. Just the same as the other folders.
And when Spy faced the boy again, it would be with his usual level of gravitas. With even more confidence than ever. The withering broken thing inside him was masked. Locked away. And Spy did not think about Jeremy. He did not think about Lucian. Jeremy was a boy who had been left behind by a man named Lucian. Lucian was a dead man. And Spy did not think about them at all.
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Medic, by now, had probably noticed that Scout was acting out of the ordinary. Medic hadn't said anything to him though, so Scout hoped that he was being less suspicious than he felt.
He wasn't doing anything wrong! He was just. Keeping an eye on his teammate. Checking in. Making sure Spy was doing okay. Which was. Totally normal for Scout to do. Definitely.
Spy still hadn't woken up since he had lost consciousness when Scout rescued him. They had gotten back to the base faster than expected, and Medic had immediately gone to work on bringing Spy into a more stable state. Scout hadn't really gotten any sleep since they got back, the first night he had lied awake for hours, waiting to either fall asleep, or for something to alert him that Medic had healed Spy, and there was no need to worry.
Scout had wondered aloud, when they got back to the base, why they didn't just put spy through respawn, and medic had told him that he wasn't sure if it was safe, given that respawn could have been turned off for the night. They also didn't know if it would work properly, given that spy had been injured so far away. Scout felt like Medic hadn't told him the whole truth, but he didn't ask any more questions.
Spy was apparently in stable condition after a night in the infirmary with the medigun. Scout had tried to be subtle with his first visit, making up some lie about Heavy telling him to make sure Medic had breakfast. By the fourth time he walked into the infirmary that day, as nonchalant as possible, excuseless as to why he was there, medic seemed unsurprised.
“err...” Scout probably should have tried to think of an excuse as to why he was here again. Was it fine for him to just check in on Spy? It was probably weird. Scout didn't even know why he was at the infirmary again, he was screwed if Spy woke up while Scout was there, the guy was gonna kill him if he remembered what had happened. Spy hated being anything other than perfectly poised and proper, hated being seen without a full suit, and scout had seen him, maskless, at a lower point than Scout ever thought Spy could be.
“Oh hello herr scout! It is good you are here again.” Medic said casually, as if he was expecting him.
“It is?”
“Yes. I need to grab some things from my office. Stay here. If the spy wakes up, fetch me immediately.”
“I- What?” Scout responded, still a bit confused, but he was just too late to get any questions answered. Because before he even finished speaking, the doctor walked straight past Scout and made his way out of the room.
Scout sighed, and then wandered over to the stool next to the next to the gurney that Spy laid silently on. Scout felt out of place here. He probably shouldn't have come in the first place, but Medic was gone now, and he couldn't just leave Spy alone.
Spy looked better than he had looked in the warehouse, but it still felt like an invasion of the man’s privacy to see him like this. His face was covered, somehow all of the mercs felt the same about not seeing spy's face without his consent or knowledge, despite their constant attempts to remove it when he wasn't vulnerable like this. The mess that had been the remainders of one of spy's expensive ass suits had been removed, replaced with a thin hospital gown and a medical blanket. It was far too revealing, even just seeing spy's bandaged arms over the blanket felt wrong.
God. The bandages. They snaked around Spy's hands and arms, some of his fingers were splinted together. Scout was reassured by them, but the image of how Spy’s mangled fingers and rope burned wrists had looked in the warehouse flashed through his mind, and Scout had to shake himself the first time he had come into the infirmary, had to force the image out of his head. Spy's face presumably was also bandaged, the lumps and unevenness of the man's balaclava spoke to that. Scout couldn’t for the life of him figure out why the medigun hadn’t been used to fully heal Spy’s injuries, but the question had been avoided every time Scout had asked, and he eventually given up asking.
Scout sat quietly. His mind was running a mile a minute, mostly about what had happened at the warehouse, but for once in his life he couldn't bring himself to speak. The only time he'd probably ever be able to talk around Spy without being told off, and his thoughts were staying in his head. It was quiet.
And then it wasn't.
Spy sat up abruptly, and scout jumped so hard he nearly fell off the stool, barely managing to keep himself from falling on his ass, which was lucky, since Spy seemed to have woken up with a 'fight' response; the older man was tearing himself off the bed, and rushing at Scout, his expression one of unfamiliarity and fear. Fortunately (or unfortunately) Spy was still nowhere close to healed, and the older man's legs gave out almost as soon as he stood.
Scout caught the man under his armpits and pressed him back into a sitting position on the bed. fuckkkk of course he woke up as soon as Medic left. Shit.
“Scout?” Spy's eyes were far more focused than they had been the day before. But that panicked look was still there, the older man’s breathing was short and irregular, that couldn't be good. God where the hell had Medic gone.
“Spy- Shit-” Scout said “Hey man- You- You're in the infirmary. It’s safe- I need to get medic-”
The fingers of Spy's hands that weren’t splinted together were suddenly gripping Scout’s t-shirt.
“Où suis-je? Ou- Where am I?”
The sudden contact startled Scout, Spy’s hands were shaking.
“The infirmary?” A slightly unnatural silence fell over the two, and Scout found himself matching his breathing with Spy. The older man seemed frozen; his eyes nailed to the floor. The shaking of his hands stilled a bit, although his grip didn’t loosen.
“A- Are you alright man?” Scout was, again, way out of his depth. Spy tilted his head up, his eyes met Scouts for maybe half a second, his mouth tilting open, like he was going to speak again. Whatever Spy was going to say was cut off suddenly, his hands loosening their grip on scout’s shirt as he jerked his head to the side, and right as he did Scout heard approaching footsteps from the hall.
Almost as soon as scout registered the footsteps, the door to the infirmary was swinging open. Medic entered the room swiftly, arms laden with some box of supplies. Spy pushed himself back from Scout, some semblance of his usual pomp and pride returning to his posture, like a switch had been flipped, like a mask had returned to the man face, despite Spy already wearing his baclava.
Scout was dismissed by Medic a few moments later, the reason being that the doctor needed to speak to Spy. Alone.