I want to get one thing straight. In just about everyone's life, there's a time when being a cocky asshole seems like a cool thing to do. It doesn't matter how old you are – hell, there are kids half my age that are totally over the whole thing and adults three times as old as me who still act like asses. You think that being a jerk makes you hot stuff.

Every time you do something that's terrible, something that's so stupid it could kill you, you feel like everyone watching admires you. You feel like you're popular, like you're hot shit, like you're on top of the world.

Most people get over it. One day you wake up and look around and boom, you don't know who you are anymore. You don't know why you wasted your time following around the asshole in the leather jacket who smoked two packs of cigarettes a day. You don't know why you spent hours coming up with snappy retorts that you think could make a grown man cry. You don't know what you've been doing, but you know you don't want to do it anymore. So you change your habits.

Some people, though, they never stop.

Those are the people you pity. You pity them and you hate them, because you don't know what else to do. You can't change them, not after they've been that way for a long time. If they haven't had their moment of realization, you're not gonna bring them around.

I was a cocky asshole for a long time. I still act like one sometimes – it hasn't been that long since I realized what a little shit I was being, and habit is a pretty powerful thing – but I'm working on it. And I can't take credit for being the one who brought around the change, because it couldn't have happened without a friend of mine who believed in me.

I had to learn my lesson the hard way – but then again, that's how I learn best.

The weather was getting colder around 2fort, but it was a welcome chill after the blazing heat that had become the norm. In fact, according to Engie and his collection of gadgets, we were due for a snow soon.

Everyone was bundled up in thick, fur-lined sweaters – red, of course – as they jogged across the battlefield. As far as I could tell, the sweaters didn't stop bullets or fire. I was privy to this information mainly because I had just taken a dozen bullets from the BLU Scout – who looked totally ridiculous wrapped in a jacket that looked like it was made for a Heavy – and was currently bleeding as much as I would normally as I ran across the top of the bridge between the two bases.

"Medic!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, strafing sideways as I noted the flicker of a BLU scope. A bullet pinged as it struck the aluminum siding, denting it and bouncing off into the pool of frigid water beneath the bridge. From a distance, the other team's Sniper let out a muffled curse.

Spinning around with a grin hidden by the red scarf around my neck, I raised my left hand and flipped the enemy Australian off. He raised his rifle and fired again, face twisted into a growl of anger, and in his anger managed to misfire completely. His shot instead plunked harmlessly into the wood of the red-painted fort behind me.

"Ya camped da whole time for this?!" I called. "You'll never hit me!"

Then I spun around, dodging back and forth until I was back in the fort again just in case he remembered how to use a scope in time to shoot again. Somehow I didn't think the guy would miss again – hell, I was worried for a while that he'd come running after me with his knife and chop me to bits.

"Doc! C'mon, man!" I yelled out. The doctor was probably off healing Heavy or someone who could pack a little more punch, I knew, but that didn't much change the fact that I was bleeding from the chest. The other Scout could have shot me in the heart and I wouldn't even know until I woke up in Respawn with a headache.

At last I felt the comfortable warmth of the Medi Gun. Its healing beam was always the perfect temperature, cool when it was hot and warm when it was freezing like it was now.

"Thanks, Doc!"

Medic arched an eyebrow.

"Ja, Scout, but be more careful next time. When you call for a healer, I have to abandon the others –"

The crack of a rifle shot cut off anything else the doctor was about to say, and in the brief instant of silence we heard Solly's gurgling scream of agony.

"Scheiße," Medic hissed. He rarely swore, but when he did it was always an indication of serious anger. "I sent Soldier ahead to take out ze BLU Pyro. Ze Sniper must be in top form today."

"Uhh, yeah." I wasn't about to tell him that I might have riled up the other team's Sniper, and anyway I wouldn't have gotten the chance. The metal gate in front of Respawn flew up and out stormed Solly, his face red with rage.

"MAGGOTS!" he roared at us, the cords of his neck standing out. "I'm going to send that maggot to hell, and then find where he lives and beat the crap out of his kangaroo wife! ARE YOU WITH ME?!"

Medic was quick to reaffirm his position at Solly's side, "Jawohl! Let us go, Herr Soldier!"

They charged away from Respawn, back onto the battlefield. I decided to go out to the upper level and watch Soldier tear the BLU Sniper a new asshole. Our own Sniper was already there, rifle lifted to his eyes as he peered across the gap between the forts.

"Hey, man, whatcha doin'?" I asked, leaning against the metal siding that blocked off a section of the level and made a safe place to stand out of sight. "Shootin' people? That's cool."

"What the bloody 'ell do you think you're doin' here, mate?" he asked, pausing and leaning away from the scope to look at me. "There's a battle out there, if you hadn't noticed, and you're supposed to be grabbin' the Intel."

I shrugged and popped open a can of Bonk! while watching as he fired. Sniper was smirking as he reloaded, which I guessed meant that he'd hit his mark. "I dunno, man, the fuck am I gonna do out there? Their Sniper's out for my blood and Doc basically just said that he ain't gonna heal me 'less he's sitting on his ass over here waiting for da tough guys to go through Respawn."

"You do know there are Medkits scattered all over the battlefield?" Sniper asked, raising the scope to his eye again and scanning the enemy fort. "All you've got to do is grab one and go. No reason to stand around botherin' me and wasting both of our time."

"Can ya keep an eye out for the BLU Scout for me, then? I'm gonna try and get dat dumbass, but if he comes dis way…" I dragged my hand across my neck.

"Okay, okay, ya twitchy hooligan, get outta here and I'll see what I can do for ya."

Sniper flapped a hand at me without looking away from his scope. I nodded and, now that the Bonk! was in effect, leaped into the open. The BLU Sniper fired at me multiple times, lips curled into a snarl, but the bullets missed.

"I'm a freakin' blur here, ya moron!" I shouted up at him, and lunged forward with my bat. Mid-air, I leaped again and landed heavily, kicking his gun away and slamming his skull with my foot and then bat. "I oughta' be on a baseball card!"

It didn't take much to charge past the BLU Respawn room, across an open area of the fort, and down a stairway into the lower level where the Intel could be found.

Beep… beep… beep…

I could hear a sentry, and with a short pause to listen I caught the faint clang of a wrench on metal. Either the Engineer was building something new or he was upgrading his sentry – either one could be dangerous.

After a few more seconds I heard the sentry buzz and, more loudly, "Now that there's a fine piece of work," in the Engineer's pronounced Texan twang. And just as quickly, there was another buzz – this time, a raw electric sound that I recognized as a sapper going to work. The Engineer let out a scream. Spy decloaked as he ran around the corner, waving me towards the Intel room.

"The fuck are you doin', man? I coulda taken care of dat asshole."

He adjusted his tie and raised an eyebrow, frowning.

"Indeed, and yet here you are now – unharmed, with all of your ammo, and able to take the intelligence without any complications. Now, do you intend to waste my effort and let the Engineer alert his team, or move?"

I glared at him but ran past and snagged the blue briefcase in one hand. When I ran out, Spy was nowhere to be seen – probably headed back up to bother the BLU Engineer some more. Instead of taking the front way, I opted for the sewers, where there was less of a chance that the enemy Sniper would take a shot at me.

Their Pyro was guarding the sewers, but its back was turned – expecting trouble to come out of the pipes rather than from behind. I smirked as I drew my gun; I would prove it totally wrong.

A few well-placed bullets and the mumbling maniac was dead. I waited until its body was captured by Respawn to make sure that it was really out of the fight before leaping past and splashing my way into the wide blue pipes. The level of water was low enough that it just barely covered my shoes – but it was nasty. I grimaced when I felt the stuff soak into my shoes and make my socks wet.

The things I do for my job, huh?

"Good job, son!"

Solly's compliment was accompanied with a hearty slap on the shoulder that nearly knocked me out of my chair. As it was, I just choked on my creamed corn.

Once I had successfully coughed it up, I looked around the dinner table. The whole team was cheerful and boisterous after our victory. The BLU team hadn't captured our Intel even once, and we'd had a flawless victory. As a celebration, Medic had been the one to cook for us though it wasn't his turn to cook – and his cooking skills were beyond my wildest dreams.

My plate was piled high with food the doctor had made, as was everyone else's. Heavy had the largest portion and was tearing into the meat with gusto, loudly exclaiming over how delicious it was, while Medic had a modest plate with all the food neatly separated into their own piles. He nodded and mutely accepted the praise, though it was clear that he was as happy as everyone else to have won on the last day before our break.

Tomorrow was the first day of a two-week holiday for Smissmas. It was one of the few days off that we were given, and everyone had plans. The base would be completely empty – on both sides, since BLU also got the week off – and a number of facilities would be turned off to save power including the heat, lights, and the Respawn system.

No one would be there, so what did it matter? I, personally, was going home to Boston to see Ma. I didn't know if I'd get to see many of my brothers, since they all had their own jobs and homes, but I was really just eager to go home. I missed the city, especially being stuck out in this deserted wasteland with a tiny town about twenty miles away.

"Scout?"

I blinked and looked over. Solly had pushed his helmet back and was looking at me, brows raised.

"Did you hear me, son?" he asked.

"Oh – oh, yeah. Yeah, thanks," I replied quickly, remembering the compliment he'd offered. Most of my attention was trained on Sniper, though, waiting for him to say something about how quickly I had gotten the Intel.

He was still wearing his shades, their yellow tint covering his eyes. I couldn't tell where he was looking, but I hoped it was my way.

"Don't know why you're pretending to be so proud," he remarked after a moment, taking a bite of his food and pointing his fork at Solly. "'S not like you led us t' victory – more like, you took the bullets."

His reference to the BLU Sniper's headshot was not lost on the table. They fell silent as Sniper snickered and Solly's face grew red with anger.

I knew that no one wanted to fuck with Solly. He was the meanest on the team, prone to violence over the smallest remarks; hell, I barely had the balls to talk to him, let alone make fun of him like Sniper was doing. But the Australian was doing just that – winding up Solly, getting him louder and angrier, and laughing at him just for the fun of it.

It was like watching bullfighting, only the bull was big and dumb and slow while the matador knew exactly what he was doing. And I couldn't help but be entertained.

They went back and forth, Solly and Sniper, trading verbal blows. Unfortunately for Solly, Sniper had a wit as sharp as his eye – and most of Solly's insults consisted of some variant of "Bilbo Baggins."

Throughout the whole thing, the rest of the team was completely silent. Except me.

I was cracking up. Like, table-pounding, coughing-on-food cracking up. Solly made it even worse when he tried to glare at me and Sniper at the same time and ended up looking cross-eyed at the wall, face red and jaw clenched. I burst out laughing uncontrollably then, and Sniper reached across the table to ruffle my hair. "This little shit knows humor," he told the table with a crooked grin.

Finally Engie stepped in. He leaned over and quietly said, "Solly, easy. He's just tryin' to rile ya up." When Solly showed the slightest sign of calming down, Sniper decided to take a final shot at him.

"What's the matter, Solly? You worried we'll reject you like the rest of the military did?"

That was all it took. Solly lunged across the table, hands outstretched to grab Sniper by the throat. His legs struck the bottom of the table and tipped it sideways, sending plates of food cascading into the laps of everyone unlucky enough to be seated on the opposite side from him, but he didn't stop for a second. I was bent over, struggling to breathe for all my laughter.

Engie shot to his feet and grabbed Solly's collar, trying to drag him back away from Sniper. For a moment they struggled in opposite directions, but finally Engie yanked hard enough to pull him away – though not before Solly was able to land a powerful punch right in Sniper's eye.

The Australian shot to his feet, a string of swears tumbling from his mouth as he gingerly touched the eye that would probably be black by morning. "The hell's your problem?" he demanded, raising a fist at Solly.

"Get out of my sight, maggot!" Solly snarled back, still trying to pull free from Engie's grasp. "If I have to beat you into submission, I will! DO NOT THINK THAT I WILL LET YOU OFF EASY FOR THIS!"

I was crying with laughter, eyes burning as I gasped for air. Everything Solly said just seemed more and more hilarious. Sniper shot me a glare.

"Shut up, ya bloody wanker!"

That made my laughter stop abruptly. I looked up to see him scowling darkly at me, one hand over his eye. He curled his lip at my confusion and turned away, stalking out of the mess hall and slamming the door behind him.

"Good riddance," Engie muttered under his breath – a comment he probably meant to be inaudible.

Medic stood up, frowning at everyone, and brushed the remains of his cooking off of his lab coat. With a chilly look in my direction, he said quietly, "If anyone should need me, you can find me in ze Infirmary." So saying, the doctor strode out of the room while simultaneously undoing the buttons on his coat.

Heavy cast a sad look at the remains of his dinner, now spread out all over his vest, and shook his head. "Oh, this is bad," he sighed. "I will speak to Doktor." Then he was gone, too, following Medic down the hall.

Solly hadn't turned his glare on me yet, and I was thankful when Engie tugged on his arm lightly. "C'mon, pardner, let's get out of here. Ain't nothing else to do in here." After a moment, Solly turned and followed him out. Once they were gone, everyone else shuffled out uncomfortably.

I sat and stared at the table, now devoid of food. If no one else was left, it meant I was stuck cleaning up the rest of the room.

Pyro woke me up by pounding on my door and letting out muffled shouts. At first I groaned and buried my head under my pillow, but then it occurred to me what day it was.

It was the first day of Smissmas break, and I was heading home today.

"Hell yeah!"

I shot out of bed and yanked on my clothes in record time, finishing before Pyro could stop trying to wake me. Planting my hat firmly on my head, I pulled open the door and narrowly avoided a rubber-gloved fist.

"Pyro? What are you doin'?" I asked. It didn't answer, just rubbed its hands together looking as gleeful as someone whose face is totally obscured by a gas mask can look.

"Somethin' happening?"

It nodded emphatically.

"… Are we fightin'?"

A head shake, no.

"Is somethin' up outside?"

A nod.

"All right. Let me grab my coat – it's frickin' cold out there."

Pyro nodded, waggling its fingers as it waited. I turned around and grabbed my coat, sliding my arms into it as I barged out of the room. "Okay, let's go!"

The pyromaniac led the way, practically skipping the whole way, and by the time we reached the doors outside I was almost as excited as it was. Pyro shoved open the doors and revealed a winter wonderland.

It had snowed overnight – snowed heavily. There was at least two feet of the stuff, covering both forts in a blanket of pristine white.

Or at least it had been pristine. Now everyone was out running around, throwing snowballs and laughing. I caught sight of Demo, arm slung around the "neck" of a misshapen snowman, drinking his scrumpy and singing a drunken rendition of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." Medic and Heavy were throwing snowballs like men half their age, noses red and scarves flying behind them. Engie was studying a snow-sentry that had collapsed on one side.

Pyro tapped me on the shoulder. When I turned to look, it smacked me in the face with a slushball.

I retaliated by grabbing an entire armful of snow from atop the stack of crates beside me and dumping it all over Pyro.

We chased each other through the snow, throwing snowballs. I ran into Heavy – hard – but the Russian only patted me on the head with a great booming laugh…

… and then crushed a snowball over my head.

This meant war.

With a battle cry, I took a handful of loose snow and hurled it at him. Heavy let loose with a playful roar and loomed over me, arms spread like an angry bear. "I will crush leetle man!" he shouted.

Then Medic hurled a snowball, hitting him right in the back of the head and sending a flurry of snow tumbling onto Heavy's shoulders. He froze, eyes wide.

And he turned and lunged, tackling Medic and throwing him into a snowdrift, and pelted the doctor with snowballs.

From there it turned into an all-out free-for-all. Snowballs went flying wildly, hitting everyone in sight. Even Demo tried to throw a few, though they mostly just fell out of his hand onto the ground. When Solly came outside, looking as if he'd like nothing more than to call us all "maggots" and storm back inside, I hit him in the chest with a snowball.

For a second, I thought I was going to die. It felt like everything was moving in slow motion.

But then Soldier grabbed his shovel, scooped up a pile of snow, and hurled it at me.

"SCREAMIN' EAGLES!"

We had played in the snow for at least an hour, probably longer, when I noticed Sniper strolling across the grounds from his van. His black eye was swollen and it looked like he'd passed a rough night. Hoping to cheer him up, I took the initiative to include him in our snow war and tossed a slushball his way. It hit the side of his head, knocking his hat to the ground and leaving half of his face encrusted in dripping wet snow.

He froze.

Then, very slowly, Sniper turned to look at me.

I could see his mouth begin to move, but Heavy abruptly slid in between the two of us and fell into the snow with a hearty laugh.

"Ha! Is good day to be giant man!" he shouted as he stood, towering over me. "Can drop snow on all itty-bitty teammates!" So saying, Heavy took a handful of snow in each massive hand and dumped it on both me and Sniper.

Now the both of us were covered in snow. I raced away from Heavy, laughing, and left Sniper to stand in the snow and dust himself off. There was time yet before we would leave the base, and I wanted to enjoy it.

Of course, we couldn't stay there forever, playing in the snow and laughing. We stopped, eventually, to have lunch. Everyone was talkative, more so than usual, as we ate. Melting snow dripped down our backs and legs, forming puddles on the floor. No one cared, not even the normally-scrupulous Medic.

I almost wished it didn't have to end, though of course everyone wanted to go to their homes and visit their families. The day had been one of the best I'd ever had while working with RED.

Finally, our plates were empty and our stomachs full. We sat in comfortable silence, relishing the good food and good fun of the day.

At last, however, Medic got to his feet. "Vell, I am loathe to admit it, but I really must be on my way. I have a plane to catch in…" he checked the clock, "… three hours. I'm sure zat I can make it to the city in time, but I unfortunately cannot dawdle here any longer."

"Da," Heavy agreed, "I must go as well." There was a general murmur of agreement around the table.

We stood and began to exchange farewells, wishing the others a merry Smissmas and happy New Year since we wouldn't be seeing them on the holidays. Sniper remained stoically silent, watching us with folded arms, and I recalled him saying something about catching a plane to Australia at midnight a few weeks ago. He didn't have to leave the base until nine or ten – and he was apparently using the airport from a smaller, more remote town, because they didn't care about the bad weather or length of the flight.

I myself had a taxi coming. It would take me to the nearest city, which was about two hours away, where I would fly to Boston.

I sauntered outside with everyone. Medic had his van, and Heavy rode with him – somehow, I wasn't surprised that they were riding together. Pyro, apparently lacking both transportation and a place of his own to go for Smissmas break, hopped into Engie's truck with a muffled goodbye to us all. Demo, having anticipated his drunkenness, had called a taxi as well and was gone quickly, too. Spy's car had vanished while we were saying our goodbyes but, strangely, Solly seemed to have disappeared as well. We assumed that he must have left before anyone noticed, too.

Finally, last, my taxi rolled up. I hopped in and prepared myself for the long drive to the airport.

"What do you mean, my flight is canceled?!" I yelled at the woman. She looked uncomfortably at me, brow creased.

"Sir, please, I need to ask you to be quiet."

I clenched my teeth. "Sure, fine, whatever the hell you want. How can my flight be canceled?"

She leaned away slightly and frowned.

"There's bad weather on both ends of the flight, sir. The snow here has made it dangerous for planes to take off, and apparently Boston is caught in a serious blizzard that is forecasted to last until Smissmas, maybe longer. We can't authorize any flights there for at least a week."

"But I have to get home!" I shouted again, throwing my arms wide indignantly and glaring at her. "What am I s'posed to do, walk the whole way to Boston?!"

The woman crossed her arms. "Sir, you need to leave. Your flight has been canceled and you're not permitted to stay here; you're disturbing the other customers." When I stayed there, glaring at her, she flicked her finger in a beckoning motion to a security guard nearby.

I could have taken him. I was a trained killer, paid to spend my year gunning down the BLU team, who were just as strong and capable of murder. This guy was a hired goon that looked like he'd been smoking for the past twenty years and drinking on the job. His stomach pooched out over his belt, which had a gun strapped to it.

But Respawn was turned off, and anyway I was out of range for it. If the guard decided to shoot me to keep me down, I was dead. Permanently.

So I turned around and started walking away, towards the airport's exit, like I was a badass who didn't even care about what they thought. I kept up the appearance until I got outside.

Then I promptly flopped on a bench over by the street, put my face into my hands, and started to panic.

I had money, but I couldn't get home to Boston. I had no intention of staying in this city. I needed to get home. But how?

Then it hit me in the face like a snowball – Sniper. He'd said he was using a private airport outside of the city, an airport that would fly no matter how awful the weather might be. And that was exactly what I needed.

I shot to my feet, waving my arm frantically for a taxi. After a few minutes, one pulled over and rolled down the window; a dark-haired man rolled down the window and raised an eyebrow.

"Kid, what do you think you're doing? You look like you couldn't pay me to drive you two blocks away. I've got people who need to get to towns ten miles away before it gets dark, in the snow. It's almost six."

"I gotta get back to da base! It's about two and a half hours from here, in dat direction," I gasped, pointing in the direction of the base. "Have ya seen it? Called 2fort?"

The taxi driver frowned. "Two and a half hours? And you can pay?"

"Of course I can pay," I snapped, jerking a wad of money out of my pocket and handing him three twenties. "Is dis enough, or should I pay ya more? I need to get there before nine!"

"All right, all right, calm down, kid. Hop in the back and I'll see what I can do to get you there on time." I leaped into the taxi with a breathless "thanks."

The ride was quiet and unbearably long, though when I craned my neck to look at the clock in the front of the taxi it assured me that we had plenty of time. I couldn't help but fidget nervously. It was goddamn unbelievable that my freaking flight was canceled. I tried to calm down but couldn't seem to manage.

The next thing I knew, the driver was shaking my shoulder. "Kid? Hey, kid! Wake up, we're here – at least I think we are." He peered through the windshield into the darkness, which was marred with the white gleam of the moon on snow. "There was a sign back there, but the snow covered it. D'you recognize the place?"

I rubbed my eyes, blinking. I didn't think I'd fallen asleep, but there was definitely a fogginess to my mind that hadn't been there and I didn't remember it getting dark. "Uh, y-yeah. 'Dis is the right place. Thanks."

"You sure you'll be all right?" the driver asked, looking back and forth between me and the snow-covered fort, which looked as if it were completely abandoned. "I mean, I normally wouldn't ask, but… this place…" He trailed off and scratched the back of his neck.

"Nah, it's okay. I'm good."

My voice was shaky with sleep, which probably didn't reassure him much, but as I clambered out of the taxi with my small bag I handed him another twenty, which seemed to satisfy him enough that he stopped asking.

"Thanks, man," I said blearily as I staggered into the snow. My mind was focused on one thing: catching Sniper before he left. I didn't even notice as the taxi pulled away.

Lights flooded my vision, blinding yellow headlights accompanied by the racket and growl of a camper. My tired brain latched onto this immediately – Sniper was here, and he was leaving.

What I didn't register was the fact that headlights washing over me meant that the van was headed right for me. In fact, I didn't realize it until the van ground to a halt a mere foot away from me and Sniper rolled down the window, glaring at me.

"What the fuck d'you think you're doin' out here?" he demanded, leaning out to shout.

"Sniper! Man, thank God I got here in time. I need a ride to the airport you're goin' to!"

He peered at me over his sunglasses – why the hell he was wearing them in the middle of the night, I had no idea – and snorted. "Why would I do that for you of all people, ya bloody little spaz?"

"What the hell, man? What are you talkin' about?"

I glared at him.

Sniper raised an eyebrow and smirked. "You gotta be fuckin' kidding me, wanker. I can't think of any reason to help you."

"Are you serious?" I stared at him, sleep-addled brain struggling to process what he was saying.

The man pushed his sunglasses up the bridge of his nose and revved the camper's engine. "Get out of my way, ya little prick."

"Fuck you!" I scowled at him, not stepping aside. "The hell did I ever do to you?"

"What did you say?!"

"You heard me, you sack of shit." I started to move out of the van's way. "All you ever do is laze around and pick on the team. It don't matter how good a mood you're in, you're always callin' us names and shit. I dunno what the hell I ever saw in you." I shifted to the side completely, letting him have the road. "Go on. Go fly home and enjoy your Smissmas." My voice dripped with sarcasm.

He drove away immediately, flipping me off out of the window as he vanished into the darkness. Asshole.

I turned back to the base, still fuming, and walked towards the gate in the chain-link fence that led to the RED base. I had no idea what I was going to do, but at the very least, it was probably a little warmer inside.

That wasn't the case at all.

In fact, it felt colder inside the base than outside. There wasn't any snow, but there also wasn't any insulation with just stone and metal walls. The lights were off. The heat was off. The only good thing was that I knew there was plenty of canned food in one of the storerooms, enough to last for a long time, and I could still use my room to sleep in.

The snow outside was still marked with footprints and crumbling snowmen from the snowball fight earlier. It didn't feel like the same day. How could it have gone from the best day of my life to this freezing, miserable hell?

The halls of the fort were freezing and dark as I stalked towards my room. When I opened the door, it felt like I was walking into a prison cell rather than the place I'd been sleeping for almost three years. I should have been on a plane to Boston by now, not stuck trying to get warm back on base.

Even though I didn't want to be here, I wasn't about to turn down the meager warmth that the blanket would provide. Removing my hat, dog tags, and shoes, I crawled into the bed and burrowed into the bed sheets.

They were icy, just like the rest of the room. "Shit-shit-shit!" I gasped, throwing the blankets off and sitting upright. Only after I had spent a full five minutes rubbing at my arms, trying to warm myself up without any luck, did I realize that the blankets would probably – hopefully – warm up from my body heat.

Reluctantly, I bundled up again and stayed there this time, shuddering every time the piercing-cold blankets touched bare skin. I huddled there, teeth chattering, as I tried to warm up.

It felt like hours had passed already, though in all likelihood it was probably just a few minutes. The sheets didn't feel any warmer, and my fingers were going numb. In fact, most of me was numb at this point. I couldn't feel my fingers, I couldn't feel my toes, and I was finding it harder to move around to keep myself warm.

Panic shot through me – I'd heard stories of people who fell asleep when it was really cold and never woke up again. But even as I tried to make myself move, tried to wriggle and warm myself up again, I couldn't seem to bring myself to shift around. My movements were sluggish, my eyelids drooping.

It was too cold. I gave up; what was wrong with sleeping, anyway? At least I wouldn't feel the cold. Slowly, I let myself drift off.

The first thing that broke through the barrier of sleep was warmth. It seeped slowly into the blanket wrapped around me, breathing life into my freezing form. I could feel things happening in my body – namely, hunger.

And that led to my awakening. I could smell something cooking. I didn't know what it was, but at that instant it was the most delicious thing I had ever smelled in my life. I had to know what it was. With a groan, I forced myself to prop myself up and open my eyes.

Everything was still blurry, but I was clearly not in my room anymore. About two feet away from me was a campfire, its warm golden light dancing on the floor and on me. I relished the warmth, scooting a little closer to the flames, and realized that there was a metal spit set up over the fire. Dangling from that was a lidded pot, from which the smell must have been emanating.

Across from me, on the opposite side of the fire, was a figure. I rubbed my eyes and squinted, but the figure rendered it unnecessary by looking up, then standing up and coming around to squat beside me. I couldn't believe my eyes.

It was Solly.

"There you are, son," he greeted me in what was possibly the softest voice I'd heard from Solly in the three years that I'd known him. "I wasn't sure if you were going to wake up."

"How –" I began, rubbing my head in confusion.

He gave me a lopsided grin. "Well, once the rest of the boys left, I holed up in the storage room. I knew it would get real cold when it got dark, so I gathered wood and let it dry until they turned the power off. Then I lit myself this fire and started cooking. Bet you didn't know I'm a good cook!"

That hadn't answered my question whatsoever, but I went along with it. "No, I didn't know dat." He certainly hadn't showed any ability to cook on nights when it was his turn to make dinner.

"You would not believe the quality of some meals that I have cooked! Anyway, I decided to look around the base and see if I could find anything of use in the rooms." I frowned at this and made a mental note to hide all valuables anytime Solly was going to be alone on the base. "From there, I found you out cold."

"And what, ya dragged me down here?"

He paused, corners of his mouth turning down from the grin that had formerly crossed his face. "Dragged? No, Private, I carried you down here. I am NOT a MONSTER – unlike those BLUs!" And just like that, he was in drill-sergeant mode. "I WILL be expecting something in payment for services rendered!"

"Like what?" I said slowly, unable to stop myself from eying the pot hanging over the fire. Was he going to deny me food? Stick me out in the cold again?

Solly grinned again and, from somewhere beyond the reach of the firelight, produced a shovel. It was similar to the one he used as a weapon, except this one looked newer.

"We are going to shovel the snow!"

"What?!" I squawked. "What for? It's just gonna snow again anyway!"

Solly jammed a finger into my face, planting it just between my eyes. "That is EXACTLY why we are shoveling it, Sally! The new snow will fall on the old snow," he spun away and went to the fire, opening the pot and stirring it rigorously, "and then more new snow will fall on top of THAT snow, and in the end there will be so much snow that we will not be able to open the doors. So," he added, grabbing two bowls from the place where he had been sitting and ladling something into them, "we are going to remove all of the snow out there –"

"But –" I began to protest, but he cut me off with seven more words.

"– and dump it into the BLU base!"

That shut me up. I looked at him questioningly, trying to figure out if this was supposed to be some sort of training exercise – shovel snow into the base, shovel snow out of the base, you know the sort – or prank, but his face was dead serious.

"You heard me, cupcake," he shouted. "We are going to fill the BLU base with snow! So much snow they won't even know where they are when they return from their sad little holiday break!"

If it had been anyone else suggesting such a thing, I would have said they were full of shit and walked away. But with Solly… there was a gleam in his eyes, or at least in what I could see under his helmet, that suggested that this was no joke.

I prepared to ask about his plan, but Solly abruptly thrust one of the two bowls into my hands with a grunt. "Here, Private. This is dinner."

A look down at the bowl showed it to be baked beans with hunks of ham added. I had no idea if it would be any good – Solly was a pretty awful cook most of the time – but my stomach was growling insistently. So, seeing no spoons, I picked out a chunk of meat and ate it.

Whether it was my empty stomach driving my thoughts or not, it was delicious. I looked up to see that Solly was just tipping the bowl upwards and dumping a waterfall of beans into his mouth, and decided to follow his example. Somehow, the beans ended up half in my mouth and half on the ground around me. "Aw, crap," I grumbled, looking down at my now bean-stained blanket.

"Heh."

I glanced up upon hearing the sound just in time to catch Solly with a grin plastered onto his face, though it was quickly dissolving into a stern frown. "You will be cleaning that up, Private!" he barked. "In the morning, I mean!"

"Sir, yes, sir," I replied, only half sarcastic. "Thanks for da food, Solly."

"All right, cupcake, don't get ahead of yourself," he snorted, turning away and lifting his shoulders slightly. "Now, go back to sleep. We will be waking up at the CRACK OF DAWN, and I expect you to be BRIGHT-EYED and ENERGETIC!"

After setting my bowl aside and wiping the beans off of my blanket to the best of my ability, I burrowed into the sheet wrapped around me again, carefully avoiding putting my face down on the moist spot where the beans had been. I was warm and full at last and, though this wasn't exactly Ma's house in Boston, it was nice to be with someone I knew.

I just hoped that I would find a way to get home before Smissmas break was over.

Solly offered up a rude awakening the next day, blaring a wake-up call from his trumpet that had me jolting upright in my makeshift bed. He leaned down over me, eyes just barely visible from under his helmet but blazing with energy. "MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, PRIVATE!" he barked. "It is time to WAKE UP and SMELL THE BACON!"

Actually, I could smell bacon. Apparently Solly had cooked breakfast again. This knowledge, combined with the fact that my hunger had returned in full force, helped energy flow to my arms and legs, enough to get me on my feet. "Is there food?"

"INDEED THERE IS, SON! There is DELICIOUS BACON, cooked by ME!" Solly shoved a plate into my chest, a plate filled with bacon and eggs, and put his fists to his hips. "Eat up and prepare yourself for a day of HARD LABOR!"

Oh. I remembered what Solly had said the previous evening, about shoveling all of the snow outside into the BLU base. It would be a hilarious prank on the enemy team, but the amount of work involved would be ridiculous – first, carrying the snow across the bridge to their side, then filling their base with it.

"Aw, man, do we gotta?" I groaned, biting into the bacon – which was impressively tasty. "Ain't it supposed to be Smissmas break? We're supposed to be relaxin' and shit, not working our asses off to mess wit' da BLUs."

Solly spun on his heel and gave me the evil eye as if I had just suggested we go grave-robbing at Arlington. "Are you suggesting that we WASTE OUR TIME, Private? A TRUE SOLDIER HAS NO HOLIDAYS! He is always on duty, always watching, always protecting his country!"

I wondered how he came to the conclusion that filling the BLU base with snow equaled protecting the country, but before I could ponder it Solly handed me a shovel and announced, "WE ARE GOING OUTSIDE TO WORK LIKE MEN, PRIVATE. MARCH!"

With a sigh, I took the shovel – though I was beginning to grow accustomed to using a shovel as a weapon rather than an actual digging tool – and followed him towards the door that lead outside. He marched proudly, back straight and shoulders pulled back. Behind him, I trudged with considerably less energy. We paused at the doorway, and Solly picked up a single red fur-lined jacket, throwing it to me after giving it a once-over. "That should fit," he grunted.

"Uh. Don't you need one?" I wondered.

He turned to me and slapped his helmet back onto his head with a resounding clang. "I do not need some pathetic scrap of fabric to keep me warm! I warm myself with PRIDE IN MY COUNTRY! And if you weren't so SCRAWNY, city boy, I would make you do the same! HOWEVER, I will be taking PITY on you and allowing you to WEAR A COAT! I SUGGEST YOU APPRECIATE THIS GENEROSITY!"

"All right, man, thanks," I said uncomfortably, taking the jacket and slipping my arms into it, regaining my hold on the shovel once I was bundled up again. "So, uh… how are we gonna do dis?"

Solly grumbled something under his breath. "How exactly do you THINK we are going to shovel? FIRST, you put the shovel into the snow. THEN, you carry it across the bridge. FINALLY, you dump it into the BLU base! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR, PRIVATE?"

I suppressed a groan and nodded. I was supposed to be back home in Boston helping Ma prepare for Smissmas, and instead I was stuck on base shoveling tons of snow into the BLU base with Solly. Without a doubt, this day was going to be crappy.

My back hurt as if a Spy had stuck me with a knife. My arms were aching as if Heavy had decided to swing me around by them. My legs were quivering jelly. My fingers were so red, they matched the color of the clothes our employers gave us, and they were constantly alternating between agony and cold numbness. My lips were chapped, my cheeks were wind-burned, and I was sniffling uncontrollably.

It was cold and I was tired. Solly and I had been carrying snow across the bridge all day. He'd declined every one of my suggestions of using a cart or truck instead of our little shovels, insisting that only weak, pathetic whiners needed such things to do their work for them.

I wouldn't have minded being a weak, pathetic whiner. Not to get it over with faster.

The sun was setting when it started to snow again. Now, normally I wouldn't want to admit to liking the way it looked or anything like that – that kinda stuff is girly and gay, and I'm not either of those. But even after Solly said we could quit shoveling, I couldn't help but stand outside and look at the falling snow.

It was kinda like… in autumn, all the tree leaves start turning gold and red and start falling off the tree, and you sometimes just go outside and stand and let the leaves fall all around you, like a shower of the warm colors. It's beautiful. But this was even more intense.

The clouds were overhead but they weren't covering the sun yet, so it was reflecting off the snowflakes like they were a billion tiny mirrors, making scarlet and gold and pink flashes of light wink all throughout the sky. Then the snow would fall a little more and the light would hit it in another way, and it would gleam another color or reflect it somewhere else. The whole ground looked like it was made of fire, and the sky like it was filled with tiny glowing sparks that were making brilliant patterns on the ground and on me and on the base. I'd never seen anything quite like it back home.

So enraptured by the sight was I that I didn't hear footsteps crunching behind me as Solly approached. I was oblivious right up the second he put one large, calloused hand on my shoulder.

"Are you coming in, son? It's cold out here."

His voice was different – more like it had sounded when I first woke up at his fire the previous night. It was almost kind.

"Y-yeah. Sorry, man," I replied quickly, hoping he wouldn't ask about why I'd been staring at the snow.

For a while between us there was silence. I followed him back into the base and he began to start another fire, doing so with casual but experienced movements. Once there was a flame going, he directed me to feed the fire small sticks until it was "about this tall," he'd held his hand about a foot and a half above the makeshift fire pit, and then to place a log or two onto it. While I obeyed, he busied himself with opening a collection of cans. I caught sight of a few labels – beef broth, minced garlic cloves, canned potatoes – before Solly poured their contents into a pot and set the cans in a pile to the side.

He mutely set up the spit over the fire and hooked the pot over it, then sat down adjacent to me. It occurred to me that he didn't have any blankets; the one wrapped around me was the only one in the room.

"Solly?"

"Mmh?"

"Where are your blankets?"

"…"

"I don't want to bug ya about it or nothin', I was just wondering –"

"I didn't want to take anyone's blankets."

"… oh."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"… Don't ya have a blanket in your room?"

"No. I used to."

"What happened?"

"Couple 'a mice had a bunch of babies on the blanket. Let them keep it."

I hadn't expected an answer like that. "… Ya can't get a new one? They probably have some spares down here –"

"They don't. I looked around the storage room my first year."

"Oh."

His first year? I knew Solly had been here longer than anyone else – and that was saying something, considering the fact that Medic and Heavy had been here for seven years. Had he stayed here over Smissmas break every year?

"How come you don't go home over the break?" I asked.

Solly was leaning away, reaching over to stir the pot, so I didn't see his expression. Instead I could see his reaction in the way his back stiffened, in the way he carefully avoided looking at me when he settled back on the floor beside me.

There was silence for a long time. I started to fidget uncomfortably, waiting for him either to answer or for something – anything – to break the silence. Finally, he spoke in a voice so quiet I could barely hear him.

"I don't have a home."

I didn't know what to say to that, but my mind was racing. How must it have felt, hearing the rest of us blab about going to see our families over the break, exclaiming about presents and trees and decorations, while knowing that you didn't have anywhere to go? That you were going to be stuck on the base where you had been fighting for 7 or more years while your coworkers opened presents and ate good food?

"My…" a muscle in his jaw twitched almost imperceptibly, "father… was never very supportive of me. As soon as I was 18, he told me to join the army. He said he didn't want to see my face unless it was on the front page of the paper with the headline 'War Hero Saves Millions.' I didn't care that he was kicking me out. I always wanted to fight in the war, wanted to defend my country. I didn't want to depend on him anymore." Solly fell silent again, and I had just decided that he was done with his story when he continued. "The army turned me away, every branch; said I was crazy."

"So I bought myself a ticket to Europe and taught myself how to use weapons. Then I hunted down Nazis and killed as many of them as I could find. Not one goddamn word of thanks for it, but I didn't care about the thanks or the respect." He shifted his weight, opening up towards me a little more. "Freedom is more than a word, son, and that's what I wanted to prove." Solly chuckled, a harsh sound.

"Of course, my father didn't agree. I flew home after the war and he promptly beat my ass and kicked me out of the house – literally, right onto the street. Said he wasn't letting some lazy-ass coward live in his house as long as he was alive." He lifted his helmet up and ran one hand through his hair, which was brown and buzzed short army-style. "Scraped by on the streets until I was forty-two. After that, I heard about RED and joined up."

I was counting on my fingers and toes. "Wait, wait, wait. Medic and Heavy have been here for seven years and you've been here longer 'n dem. Doesn't that make ya like fifty?"

Solly glared at me. "Is there anything wrong with being fifty?"

I decided to refrain from making any "over-the-hill" comments. "Nah. I was just… counting years. Not tryin' to say you were old or anything like that. Just… yeah."

We descended into an uncomfortable silence then. Solly had basically just told me his life story and I'd acted like I'd barely heard anything aside from how old he was. I felt bad, but what was I supposed to say? "Hey, I know that I was a huge douchebag just then by acting like I didn't care about you pouring your heart out to me and whatnot, but I was totally listening"?

At last, I settled for a quiet "Sorry."

"You'd damn well better be sorry," Solly agreed, but there was no resentment in his voice, just a kind of weary roughness.

And then there was the damn silence again. I shifted awkwardly, wishing I could take back what I'd said to him and wondering if it was going to be like this for the next two weeks – waking up, shoveling snow into the BLU base, and going back inside to silence aside from the fire's crackling. Two weeks of not knowing what to say to Solly.

That was what finally broke the floodgates.

"Fuck," I said abruptly, the sound of my own voice a shock. "I'm sorry, man. I'm sorry that I side with Sniper instead of you – that guy is a lazy shithead who fucks with everyone, even me – and I'm sorry that I laugh atcha when you get mad at him. I'm sorry that I acted like I wasn't listening when you were tellin' me your story. I'm sorry that I don't have more blankets to share with ya. I'm sorry that I riled up the BLU Sniper a couple 'a days ago and then called Medic away so he couldn't help ya. I'm sorry that I've been a stupid little shit who bothers you all the time and I don't even know why I do it, I just – just –"

Solly placed one hand on my head lightly, cutting me off. I looked up, eyes wide, expecting him to apply pressure and crush me into a pancake on the ground.

Instead he ruffled my hair and smiled.

I'd seen Solly smile before – mostly on the battlefield, after a particularly good kill or when we'd captured the Intel. Sometimes he smiled at dinner, laughed at the jokes that we told, grinned when recounting a particularly gruesome tale. Those were all slightly maniac, a hint of madness and delight driving them.

This was different. It was… it was warm. Kind. It was the sort of smile I imagined that my father would have, the sort of smile that said "I care about you," and "I'll keep you safe." It was in every line on Solly's face, in the small crinkles around his eyes that I didn't know if I'd seen before, in the way his hand felt on my head, in the way he had turned to face me more fully.

"You're a good kid," he said gruffly, still smiling. "No need to apologize."

Then the moment passed, and he turned back to the fire and took the pot off, revealing what was apparently beef stew. A delicious scent was filling the air and the fire was bringing feeling back to my hands. And somehow, even though it was cold and dark and I should have been at home in Boston with Ma, I was happier than I could ever remember being.