Hello everyone! I miss you all so much. It's weird not having a story to update every few days...but here's a little one-shot for you all. I have no idea where I was going with this but it just came to me so I wrote it. I hope you all like it. :3

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It was raining.

It was as if the very earth itself was mourning the loss of a life as the icy rain hissed on the cracked desert earth. It turned the red dust into red mud, which covered two of the eight men from head to toe, ruining the suits they wore. The rain wept over a small black casket like a mother would over the grave it was soon to be lowered into.

The eight men stood around the casket, not speaking. They hardly dared to breathe.

As the casket was lowered into the grave, each man stepped forward to deposit something into the ominous hole.

The first man placed a book into the grave with a gentleness he had never seemed to possess. The cover was tattered with age, but one could just make out the title. The Art of War.

The second man lit a match and dropped it into the grave along with the rest of the match book.

The third man dropped in a round of two hundred dollar custom tool minigun cartridges.

The fourth man silently poured an entire bottle of liquor into the grave.

The fifth man dropped in a ring of car keys belonging to a rusty old pickup truck.

The sixth man dropped in a single dove feather.

The seventh man folded up his aviators and dropped them in with shaking hands.

The eighth man plucked a lit cigar out of his mouth and dropped it into the hole.

He was so young.

.

Medic felt the scream ripping into his throat even in waking. He briefly flailed on his bed, grasping at nothing. He kicked off his sweaty sheets that entangled him and swung his legs around the side of the bed, burying his face in his hands.

This was the fourth night this week he had been having these horrible dreams. This one had been the tamest of them all; he shuddered as gory images from previous nights flashed in his mind. He groped for his glasses, nearly knocking over the many pill bottles that rested on his night stand.

He looked up sharply when his skin began to prick with the feeling of being watched. Sure enough, Pyro was standing in the doorway. He cocked his head to the side as he saw the pale doctor, then disappeared as if he remembered something. Medic must have woken him up with his screaming. No sooner had Pyro left he returned, but this time with someone else.

"Doc?" A warm, pleasant voice soothed his ears and he forced a smile to his face, half-way making an attempt to welcome the Engineer into his bedroom. A very sleepy man stumbled in, rubbing his eyes. "Pahro said you needed me," he sat himself in Medic's wooden desk chair and looked expectantly at the doctor. Medic just sat for a long time, not meeting Engie's ever-patient gaze.

Engineer always questioned why the team came to him with emotional issues. He thought he'd made it clear that he fixed practical problems, but apparently not. Maybe it was his age that drew the team towards him when they were upset.

"It's just a stupid dream," Medic snapped, inwardly wincing at his own harsh tone. "…just a dream," he added softer, still fidgeting with his hands. Engie just sat in the silence, waiting for the doctor to continue talking. "Every night zis veek…horrible, horrible dreams. Everyvone dies- actually dies, und I can't do anyzing about it." Medic ran his hands through his hair like a man in complete despair. Engie contemplated the doctor for a moment before his gaze flickered over to the many pill bottles of varying size that were strewn across Medic's nightstand. Almost guiltily, Medic met Engie's eyes for the first time. "Sleeping pills," Medic said hastily, gesturing faintly toward the bottles.

Medic stood suddenly with his shirtless chest tensed.

"Zis is ridiculous." He snorted. "I am a man of medicine. I do not question, I act." Medic swiftly opened the door to his bedroom and stiffly walked out with his hands clenched. Engie scrambled out of the chair and sprinted to keep up with the doctor.

"Uhm, doc? What're you-" he started but Medic cut him off.

"I'm going to put my mind at ease." He said coldly, fumbling to unlock the doors to the infirmary. Engie followed him inside, but he was unsure if the doctor even knew he was there.

Medic flicked a switch on the wall and the incredibly bright lights snapped on, illuminating the sickeningly sterile environment. Engie watched dumbly as Medic bustled around, an obvious plan in his mind. Medic snapped a rubber tube off of an important-looking machine and laid it on his operating table.

"Can I do anything?" Engie asked helpfully, trying to be supportive. Medic looked at him as if he was just noticing he was not alone. He nodded absently and pointed to his desk.

"You can pour me a shot of vhatever I have back zhere," Medic added a bottle of antiseptic and a scalpel to the operating table. Bewildered, Engie did as he was told.

"Listen, I'm all for doin' shots at two in the mornin', but don't y'all think alcohol isn't really the best answer at this particular moment?" Engie found a half empty bottle of vodka and poured the doctor a full shot, and held it out to him. Medic replied by taking the glass from him and knocking it back, grimacing at the taste. He took the tube and expertly wrapped it around his elbow, tying it impossibly tight.

"Another," Medic demanded, a slight tremor in his voice. Engie poured him another and Medic knocked that one back too, the liquid fire blooming in his stomach. He began mumbling to himself and Engie leaned to forward to make out what we as saying.

"elf…zwolf… dreizehn…vierzehn…"

He was counting.

Medic tested the tightness of the tourniquet around his elbow briefly and he grasped for a small white washcloth that was resting on the edge of the nearby sink. Medic stuffed the rag into his mouth and his jaw tightened. Engineer made no move to stop the doctor; he knew what he was doing.

He hoped.

Medic picked up the scalpel and didn't hesitate a moment longer. He pressed the blade against his wrist and blood instantly welled around the cut as it sank lower into Medic's arm with the slight pressure the doctor allowed it. Medic grunted in pain and he bit harder into the rag as he slid the scalpel down his arm in one clean motion. He went in again, slicing through layers of muscle. Medic gasped at the pain, the rag falling from his mouth. He paused, tears of agony rolling down his face. He went in again until Engineer could see white bone peeking from the insanely deep cut. An alarming amount of blood had pooled around his mangled arm despite the tourniquet. Medic gestured Engie forward with his head. The doctor was shaking and sweating; Engie wondered how he was even standing.

"Do you…do you see it?" Medic hissed through his teeth, screwing his eyes shut. Engineer saw it, allright. A small, metal square that was sautered into Medic' radius. It was very simple looking, with two bulbs on it that emitted a green light or a red light. Right now the green light was shining brightly, and muffled beeping could be heard from Medic's self-inflicted wound. It was so simple, and yet it was the most complex item ever invented in the history of the world. This tiny device forced breath into the lungs of men who mere seconds before had their body parts strewn across a battlefield.

The respawn chip.

"See? It's working; nothin's wrong, doc." Engie smiled at the quickly fading doctor who staggered to his desk, his left arm flopping uselessly at his side.

"Meet me…in ze respawn room…" Medic stuttered, and slid open the top drawer in his desk. He picked up a pistol that was laying on its side and pressed the icy barrel to his temple. He briefly made eye contact with the Engineer and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Medic often wondered if there was a place in Heaven or Hell for him. He had gone to church with his mother religiously when he was younger, prayed and read his Bible without having to be told. But then he wondered if any god would let him in after the countless unspeakable things he had done. So then he would shift his thinking to the other place, but couldn't imagine himself residing there either. He had created things that quite literally eradicated death, and any fleeting hope of an afterlife. All the same, whilst Medic was stuck in the aching void of nothingness of respawn, he hoped he would open his eyes to beautiful pearly gates or fiery black ones.

Instead, he opened his eyes to the gray metallic ceiling of respawn.

Medic felt as if he had stuck a fork in an electrical outlet, and he immediately sat up, unable to control his wild breathing and adrenaline shooting through his veins. Every respawn was different. Though most made you feel nauseous or weak, they all had some sort of underlying theme. Headshots were one of the easiest, nothing like waking up from being engulfed in flames. Your skin itched for weeks after one of those.

Medic felt a hand on his back and a foul-smelling bucket was thrust in his lap, but all Medic could hear was a grating ringing in his ears. There was a horrible buzzing in his head and he reached up, almost expecting to feel a bloody mass of brain matter from a self-inflicted bullet wound, but the skin was soft and mended. Slowly, very slowly, the ringing died away and he was able to focus his vision.

"Doc? Doc, can you hear me?" Engie sounded like he was underwater, and Medic blinked and nodded stupidly. He tried to push himself off the floor, but his left arm didn't follow his right, and he fell to his side. Medic's left arm now housed a raised pink scar where he had sliced into it, and it was completely numb, tingling as blood flowed back into it.

After some time, Medic was more or less in sorts and Engie helped him back to his room where the doctor collapsed on his bed in a graciously dreamless slumber to sleep off the respawn.