Chapter Text
"There's something wrong with him, that much is obvious." Medic mused.
Sniper said nothing, keeping his arms folded, staring across the infirmary at the unconscious form laid out on one of Medic's infirmary beds.
Medic hesitated, testing the waters. "I really think it would be worth performing an examination."
Sniper shot him a glare. "I already said no. After what he's been through, the last thing he needs is to wake up on an operating table."
"It's kind of the point that he doesn't wake up until after." Medic stated matter-of-factly, before shaking his head. "In any case. It's vital to have a good look for stitches or surgery scars, medigun residue; anything to help us understand what exactly happened to him… perhaps opening him up again to well, take inventory of his insides."
Sniper grit his teeth. "No."
Medic cleared his throat, adjusting his tone to be a little more gentle. "He's been gone for a week, Sniper. A week with my counterpart- for all we know, he could be growing an alien in his chest. We need to make sure he's okay."
At that, Sniper hesitated.
When they'd finally set their rescue plan into motion, Spy had found Scout in the enemy Medic's lab, beaten and trapped in a dog cage in the corner of the room. Spy had made quick work of the lock, and in response Scout had bit him.
Scout had made a break for it himself, running into the others waiting for him and Spy outside. He'd kicked and screamed nonsensically as they dragged him into Sniper's van and Spy in tow, and had gone absolutely ballistic once the van had started rolling. Medic had been forced to stick him with a needle to stop him from getting them caught—or killing any one of his rescuers, something he sure tried to do.
Sniper chewed at his bottom lip, still staring at Scout. He looked so peaceful… eyes closed, head lolled to the side, chest gently rising and falling… Sniper wanted to hug him tight and never let him go.
"Can't you just… heal him up with some medigun fluid? Make him better again?"
Medic sucked a breath in through his teeth. "We tried that, but it doesn't seem to register any particular injury. I talked to Engineer about it and neither does respawn. It's clear something very delicate has happened and blunt force may only solidify the issue. All the more reason to get a look at what we're dealing with."
Sniper nodded once, still thinking. "…I still think we should try to talk to him first, once he wakes up. Maybe he can just tell us what happened."
Medic rested his forehead on one hand, staring skeptically at Scout. "After how he reacted during the rescue, I worry about what he'll do. The last thing I need is for him to trash my infirmary."
"He won't," Sniper didn't feel as confident about that statement as he tried to seem, but whatever. He knew Scout better than anyone, he could keep him calm.
Medic sighed. "Fine. But if he so much as looks at any of my equipment funny, I'm sedating him again."
Sniper supressed the urge to get angry about that statement, saying nothing.
Sniper waited by the side of the bed as Scout slowly woke, clearly groggy from the drugs. Every few moments he would toss or turn, eventually pulling his arms and legs in closer to the rest of his body under the blanket like a kid begging for 5 more minutes of sleep before school.
Sniper watched him with a soft smile, trying not to wake him any faster than natural. Scout frowned and huffed through his nose, turning towards Sniper with his eyes still closed. Sniper felt a twinge of something in his heart—love, guilt, longing; who could say—and reached out to touch the edge of the bed. "Wake up, Roo."
The words, soft as they were, were like matches in a powder keg. Scout snapped awake in a second, fixing Sniper with a terrified glare and scrambling away off the bed. He fell to the ground with a thud, wincing and continuing to back away.
Sniper frowned, the twinge pulling stronger in his heart. Scout was still… whatever the Blu Medic had done, it was still affecting him. "Jeremy? It's me, Mick. What's wrong?"
Scout just stared at him, shaking his head and backing away to the wall. He fumbled with the desk for something, anything—luckily, Medic and Sniper had had the foresight to clear the infirmary of any potential weapons. Noticing this, Scout sheepishly snatched a blanket from one of the other beds instead, wrapping it around his shoulders and still staring warily at Sniper.
As much as Sniper wanted to get up and go over to Scout, he could see that would get him nothing but a trip to respawn right now. It took all his willpower to stay in the chair, but somehow he managed. "…Jeremy…? Please, just say somethin'."
Scout gave no indication that he'd even heard him, still staring stand-offishly and clutching his blanket.
Sniper's twinge was just pulling tighter and tighter, a lump forming in his throat. "Love, please… I can see you're scared right now, but I promise I won't hurt you. Please, just say something, anything."
Nothing.
Sniper buried his face in his hands, breath hitching. Anger and grief boiled in his chest; how could he let this happen, how could he have let Scout be gone for so long?? He was the worst boyfriend in the whole world.
He wouldn't cry. He was a mercenary and mercenaries didn't cry, not in front of other mercenaries anyway. He sniffed and cleared his throat, forcing himself to look up from his hands.
Scot's expression had changed; not so afraid anymore, instead staring at Sniper with something like despair on his features. Still, he didn't dare to come any closer.
Sniper cleared his throat again, a little more forcefully. Get it together. "Um. Are you hungry? We got you somethin' for when you got back." He finally got up from the chair—which startled Scout quite a lot—and turned back to a different part of the infirmary where a bucket of chicken was waiting.
Sniper took the food, bringing it back and presenting it to Scout, who eyeballed it curiously. Sniper recognised the eager gleam in his eye all too well; he was definitely hungry.
Sniper sat himself down on the tiled floor, pushing the bucket gently towards Scout across it. "It's yours, mate. Here." He shuffled back a bit, giving Scout plenty of room.
Scout glanced between Sniper and the chicken, edging gradually closer, before snatching it and stumbling back as soon as he was in range. He got back to the other end of the room, holding the bucket as close to himself as possible as he plucked out a drumstick, sniffing it cauitously before digging in.
Scout knelt down to the ground and got to wolfing down chicken like a beast, blanket still draped around him. He glanced at Sniper every now and then, but he was definitely more interested in the food.
Sniper didn't move, watching him somberly. Scout wouldn't speak, which was unlike him, but he was happy with the chicken at least. Hopefully that was a good sign.
"Do you… remember anything?" Sniper probed, hoping Scout might say something now that he seemingly trusted Sniper just a little bit more. "What happened to you?"
Scout looked up at Sniper as he spoke, but said nothing himself before going back to his food.
Sniper sighed, willing himself not to get frustrated or upset. If he wanted Scout's trust right now, he had to be calm and predictable. No sudden changes. "…Fine. Are you okay? Not hurt?"
Scout glanced nervously at him again, but refused to pay him any real mind. Sniper folded his arms, the lump in his throat only growing. Still the silent treatment, huh? Did he just not trust Sniper, or was there something else going on?
"Jeremy, talk to me. What's going on?"
Scout made a small sound of… Nervousness? Fear? Sniper had little way to be sure at this point, but he did recognise the tone. He could practically hear Scout's voice in his head responding in that tone:
Jeez Snipes, would ya let a guy eat before bombardin' him with all these questions?
Sniper sighed, hunching forward so that he could rest his chin on his hand. Fine. He would let Scout eat, then they could talk. It was horribly jarring to be in a room with Scout and hear such silence.
The pair just sat for a while, Scout eating and Sniper watching him do so. At some point Scout finally finished, gnawing on the bones for a few moments before giving up and placing the bucket of chicken to the side. He stared at Sniper, not blankly but not with any emotion that Sniper could quite recognise.
A stabbing fear was slowly beginning to entwine itself in the twinge of everything else Sniper was feeling, because something was clearly very, very wrong here. Maybe Medic was right and they needed to open him up and see as soon as possible. Then again, maybe he just needed to feel safe; forcing him back onto the operating table would definitely have the opposite effect.
Scout sighed heavily, pulling the blanket closer around himself and staring at Sniper with a weary expression. For a few seconds Sniper thought he would open his mouth to finally say something, hope desperately waiting to kick-start into relief in his chest, but after a while it was clear he was wrong.
"Jeremy… what happened to you?" Sniper couldn't keep his voice from hitching, holding onto his resolve not to break down. Something was too wrong here, too wrong to possibly concieve of in the first place, too wrong to come to terms with, too wrong for Sniper to even wrap his head around.
Jeremy's body swayed a little bit, looking more and more exhausted and despaired by the second. He leaned his head on his hands much like Sniper had been, covering his face.
Sniper's heart lept a little. He carefully moved forward towards Jeremy to try and comfort him, encouraged by the fact that Jeremy didn't spring up to get away. He reached out carefully and touched Jeremy's shoulder. "Jeremy?"
Jeremy collapsed onto the floor, eyes closed and unmoving.
Sniper's heartrate sky rocketted, immediately going to check his pulse. "Shit, shit-! MEDIC!! GET IN HERE! HE- wha-"
To Sniper's surprise, Scout's pulse was steady, his chest rising and falling peacefully.
He was asleep.
Sniper stared at him in confusion, before glancing back at the bucket of chicken with a more frustrated expression. He stood up right as Medic burst in, staring wildly. "Was? What happened?"
"He bloody fell asleep." Sniper put his hands on his hips, glaring at Medic suspiciously. "Ya wouldn't happen to know anything about that now would you?"
Medic relaxed. "Oh, yes of course. I may have crushed sleeping pills into the food, so there's less of a fuss getting him onto my table."
Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose, working to contain the rage boiling up in him. "I thought we already discussed that, doc."
"Well yes, and you did agree that I could perform a check up after you tried to talk to him. And I did take what you said into consideration; the pills would be a lot less stressful for him than another needle. By the time he wakes up it'll all be over and he'll be safe and sound in bed, good as new. Hopefully."
Sniper wanted to argue with that logic, opening his mouth to do so and then having to close it right after. He growled and pushed past Medic to leave. "Fine. Whatever."
Sniper wiped his eyes once he was out of the infirmary, not wanting anyone to see any evidence of his upset.
Medic had been right, something was definitely wrong and there was just no way of knowing what until they opened him up to see. He acted like a caged animal; he'd said nothing, made no indication that he'd understood a word—but he had eaten the bucket of chicken, which was at least one good thing here.
A horrible thought nagged at the back of Sniper's mind. He tried to ignore it, but… what if the Jeremy he knew and fell in love with was gone for good, buried beneath who knows what bullshit Blu Medic did to him? It was horrible, not real and not something he wanted to think about at all, but such facts did nothing to make the fear less potent.
Sniper all but stormed through the sick bay outside the infirmary, eyeing a suspicious corner. He sniffed- sure enough, the scent of cigarette smoke.
Spy uncloaked, saving face at clearly having been spotted. "Bonjour, bushman."
Sniper narrowed his eyes, unsurprised. "You. What are you doing skulking about out here?"
Spy ignored him, adjusting his sleeve cuffs and dragging from his cigarette. "How was he? Any progress in finding out what happened?"
Sniper folded his arms. "You could say that. He took the chicken and didn't try to kill me."
Spy nodded. "Hm. That's a good start, at least. But, you got no real information out of him?"
"…No, no information at all…" Sniper glared at him, heart sinking. "This isn't a bloody interrogation, you know."
Spy scowled. "I'm aware, bushman. I simply want to know what happened, and he happens to be the only one with that information."
"Not the only one, mind you." Sniper corrected. "Speakin' of which, why don't you go be useful for once and hunt down the quack who did this instead of standing around outside like a mouth breathin' numpty?"
Spy narrowed his eyes at that. "And how do you know I don't have the fils de pute already?"
Sniper narrowed his eyes right back, growling. "Cuz you'd already have lorded it over me by now, spook." He grit his teeth, shoving past Spy on his way out of the sick bay. "Like I said, go be useful for once. 'Fuck outta my sight."
Spy watched him go, electing to remain silent as he slipped out into the hall himself.