"Medic. . . . . Medic . . . .!"

No, no, no, he didn't like this, not one little bit. He was being shaken by a large warm hand on his shoulder, and the doctor screwed his eyes up tighter.

He was in the middle of a dream, where he was at home, in Germany, safe and warm and away from all the fighting and gore, able to laugh and have fun genuinely, without fear or memories of death, destruction and murder.

No, no, no, he didn't like this at all.

It wasn't right. He could laugh and have fun here. This was home.

Finally, he awoke, eyes blurred, even with his circular glasses on, the ceiling blindingly white, as he realized he was in the Respawn Room, the room next to his own infirmary.

"Doktor . . ?" came a large voice that the Medic could not pinpoint. His head was heavy and vision swimming in the pale, sterile-smelling room.

Medic finally managed to sit up, shakily propping himself up onto his elbows. He felt as if he was detached from his body, like he was just rudely awakened from an utter comatose state for the first time in years.

The German doctor ran an ungloved hand over his face tiredly, pressing his fingers to his dark blue eyes, groaning quietly as a pounding headache revealed itself, thudding at his temples.

"Nhhnnh. . . . Vhere. . . .?" He muttered, lowering his hand, and trying to focus on the large man sitting a few feet away from him.

"Ah, Doktor! You're avake!" The Russian boomed, grinning at the smaller mans weary form.

Before Medic could ask what was going on, "Maggot!" suddenly was yelled from the hallway, and Soldier exploded through the double doors of the Respawn room.

"You worthless idiot!" The RED Soldier raged at the Medic, who was still slightly confused. "Where were you, you Nazi Bastard? You left us to die out there today!"

"Vhat? I. . . . I haven't done anyzing!"

"Exactly!"

"Soldier, leave ze Medic alone, he has only woken up just now, gives him moment." The Heavy shot a weak glare at the obviously not one-hundred-percent sane military man, and the Medic tried to sit up further, only to be met with sickening dizziness to wed with his headache.

" . . . . Ok, Heavy, tell me exactly vhat happened on ze battlefield today, ja?" The German rubbed an eye again, fully willing to just curl up and go back to sleep.

"Vell. . . " The large, bald man placed two fingers at his square chin, thinking. "Ve vere is ze battle, and you vere behind me, healing me, when a BLU Soldier shot a rocket over towards us, I think. It missed me, and I turned to see if you vere alright, but you must have been blown backvards by ze blast. Zhen, you vere gone, I did not see you for rest of battle."

The Medics sharp eyebrows furrowed.

"Okay. . ."

The German managed to swing his legs over the side of the gurney he was laying on, and ran a pale hand through his thick brown hair.

"I remember being zeperated by ze rocket. . . .I was forced backwards and was hit by some shrapnel . . . . I zink I remember dying, again. . . . Vas I really gone for ze rest of the day?"

"Of course you were. I have no idea where you went, Doc, but we didn't see you again." The soldier seemed to have calmed down a little, but that man was never predictable when it came to his mood swings, especially after a battle.

The Medic heaved a deep sigh, resting his elbows upon his knees and burying his face in his unmarked, flawless hands. God, he had never felt so tired.

"Vell, Soldier, I don't know vhat to say. I remember being hit by ze rocket and dying. Then I voke up here. I did not miss ze fight on purpose, I assure you."

"Hmn."

"How long was I out, anyvay?"

"Four hours."

"Vhat?" The brunette surgeon sharply looked up at the taller Heavy, who had a confused look upon his face. "Is . . . . Is zere somezhing wrong with ze Respawn Machine . . .? Usually it takes about ten minutes at ze most, doesn't it? Is everyone else ok?"

"It's worked fine for everyone else, Doc."

The doctors' head suddenly filled with equations and processes concerning the device.

"No, no, no, zis is not good."

The Machine had never broken down before, and it had worked fine for the rest of the day . . . why had it messed up for him?

"Doktor, you sure you alright?"

The Medic only let out a low groan in response, rubbing his forehead. He was still so goddamn exhausted. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Ach . . . I'm fine, Herr Heavy. . . .I'm just not feeling vone hundred percent." The German smiled tiredly up at his long-time friend, and attempted to slip off the gurney, only to fall to his knees completely.

Heavy was immediately to his side, trying to help him up by he shoulders, ignoring the protests of "No, I'm fine, honestly."

The RED man heaved his friend back upon the hospital bed, and the Medic gave a weak "I'm fine." in response to the questioning gaze the larger had offered.

"Well, I think you should fix yourself up, Doc, and fast. Get the Respawn checked, find your coat and gloves, and don't forget that it's your turn to make dinner tonight. That is all." The Soldier spun on his heel and marched through the double doors, and it took the German a minute to process what he had said.

Coat and gloves . . .?

Looking down upon his own hands, it dawned upon the brunette that his red rubber gloves were missing, and as he looked down at his chest, he found a bloodstained shirt and tie.

" . . . Vhere. . ?"

"Doktor, are you still half-asleep?" The Russian beamed down at him, before turning to dig in a box under a desk, pulling out some spare gloves and handing them to the dazed healer. "I think you should have some sleeping time, Medic. You look like it is needed."

The doctor closed his eyes and heaved himself off of the gurney again, this time managing to stay on his feet. "Danke, kamerad, for everything. . . I think you may be right, Heavy. . . I feel awful." He let out a chuckle, folding the gloves and placing them on the desk, where he would get them later, after a short nap.

"Could . . . could you do me a favor, Herr Heavy?"

"Of course!" The man clapped a huge hand on the smaller doctors back, almost winding him.

"I'm going to sleep for a while. . . In an hour or so, could you get Herr Engineer to visit me, please?"

"Sure, Doktor!" Again, the hand descended upon his back, making the brunette stumble, but he chuckled a little at the kindly weapon expert.

The Medic dazedly smiled up at the man, who ruffled the dark hair, as if his doctor was a pet, and then turned to exit, stopping shortly at the door.

"Do not forget dinner time, Doktor!"

"Ja, I von't."

The double doors swung shut, the doctor left alone, and Medic heaved a deep sigh. Stumbling, he exited the Respawn room and edged into his infirmary, where another gurney was placed in the centre, and a stronger, stationary version of his Medi-gun bolted to the ceiling.

The Medic briefly wondered if his weapon could heal tiredness. Letting out another sigh, he drifted over to the gun, flicking a few odd switches and standing in front of the nozzle.

Warm rays of red energy bathed over him, lifting his spirits a little and relieving a few achy joints, the odd tingling sensation washing over him like a hot bath.

Clicking off the machine, the doctor rotated his shoulders. His headache was a lot duller but still there, and his tiredness had been lifted only slightly.

Medic heaved himself up upon the gurney stretched in front of the gun. Unlike the rest of the team, he never really claimed a bedroom, and never felt the need of sleep much, always absorbed in his work, duties and taking care of the rest of the team. As he lay upon the bed on his stomach, a smile flitted across his face at the thought of being a father figure to them.

"Dummkopfs."

It had been just over an hour, and Heavy sat in the 'Living' room, flicking through some old magazine. It wasn't a proper living room; it had just been dubbed such by the Scout, Pyro and Sniper, and was filled with mundane, time-passing things and a few old sofas. When no one had many duties, or it was one of those days in between battles, the team hung out there, involved in their own activities.

Currently, Scout and Pyro were heavily involved in some dull board game, and the Russian half expected the Pyro to attempt setting the cardboard game on fire if he lost.

It was unusual for Sniper, Medic, Spy, Soldier or Engie to be there, as they were usually most busy, and often it was only the Scout and Pyro in the room itself. However, today seemed slow after battle, and Sniper sat with his chair lent back, leaning on a wall, booted feet crossed on top of the table, while Spy fiddled silently with his cloaking device, his famous silver cigarette case. The Snipers hat was tilted, and Heavy didn't expect him to be awake. Besides Medic, he probably got the least sleep, often patrolling the grounds and finding new places to scope from.

A quiet beep came from the corner, then a French-accented "Humph.", and Heavy saw the Snipers eyes move from under his hat and warm tinted glasses.

"Watsa matter now, mate?"

"Hmm. Nozzing."

"Keep quiet then. I'm tryin' ta take a nap 'ere."

It didn't take the room long to become loud, especially as a butterfly knife became imbedded into the Snipers thigh, and Scout and Pyro's rambunctious laughter echoed though the room, mocking the Australian.

"Jesus, mate, there was no need for that!"

"Keep quiet, mate. I am trying to work here."

The Sniper hobbled to stand, the knife stuck on the inside of his leg.

"Bah," came from Heavy and he stood, moving to the smaller man. "Is tiny baby wound. Here-"

With one strong pull, Heavy yanked the knife out. "There. Is no problem."

"Cheers mate." Sniper leant against the wall, inspecting the hole in his jeans and the tiny cut. The hole wasn't deep at all, but there were speckles of blood.

"Ya think I should go ta Medic?"

"Oh, дерьмо!" Heavy swore in Russian, quickly tossing the knife back to the table -caught without looking by the Spy- and he rushed from the room.

"Engineer! Engineer!"

"Hm?"

The helmeted man turned from his place, sat on a fallen tree outside the base, working unfalteringly on schematics and blueprints.

"Medic vanted some help, little while ago." Heavy managed once he had caught up with the Texan. "He says Respawn Machine acting up, being wrong."

"Hmm, acting up? That don't sound right, big fella. Nothin' wrong with it earlier." The goggle-clad male turned back to his work, and Heavy crossed his thick arms in stubbornness.

"Medic was not in battle most of today because of Machine being wrong."

". . . he wasn't in battle?" The yellow helmet tilted as Engie didn't turn around, focusing on his work.

"Doktor respawned today and did not vake up for four hours."

Finally the Texan turned. "Four hours? Now that ain't right. Alright, I'll take a look at 'er. Where's the Doc now?"

"He went to bed, not feeling good."

"Doktor?" came quietly, sounding odd from such a large, loud man, as Heavy's head poked around the door of Medics infirmary. "Medic?"

Heavy found the German he was looking for sprawled out upon the gurney he himself had been on many times for surgery and check-ups, lying flat out on his stomach, arms beneath a pillow to give his head some more height.

Heavy smiled, it was incredibly rare to see the doctor be relaxed at all, let alone sleeping. The large man silently – or as silently as he could be – crept up to face the brown haired man, kneeling so their faces were at the same height.

His small glasses were crooked on his face and the doctors' mouth slightly open as a quiet snore passed his lips. His usually flawless hair was messy and the Medic was still wearing his clothes.

Delicately, Heavy took the glasses from the mans face, trying not to crush them. He had heard Medic and Sniper conversing once upon the fact that sleeping while wearing glasses always resulted in bent frames and headaches.

Placing them on a table to the side, Heavy turned back to the smaller man, to see his tired eyes open.

". . . Vhat . . . ?"

"You shouldn't zleep in your glasses, Doktor. "

"Mhhn." The Medic grinned and rubbed a smoky eye lazily. "Vhere is ze Engineer . . .? Is he-"

"Engineer is looking at Machine, do not vurry, leetle Doktor. You do that too much."

"Ja, it is my job to."

The German managed to sit up, his shirt crinkled and stuck to his skin, a few dried blood stains remaining from battle earlier. That reminded him; he needed to find his coat.

Rolling onto his back, Medic rubbed his eyes a little, the white walls of the infirmary not unsimilar to those of the Respawn room, and the contrast of the paint to the dark realms of sleep made him reel slightly.

Rotating his shoulders and releasing a sigh when they clicked, Medic sat up and slid off the gurney, smiling and holding out a hand to his friend, who took it and stood, the Russian towering over him.

"You feeling better, leetle Medic?"

Medic let out a chuckle and grinned. "Better than I vas, Herr Heavy. Don't vurry."

A large hand clapped on his back, softer than before, and the two started to leave the pale medical room.

The dining table was rarely calm, and this evening was no different, the team crowded around, sat waiting for food, talking and laughing about everything and nothing.

Spy and Sniper seemed to have made amends, the two sat next to each other, the usually quiet marksman often pointing to the agents cloaking device and offering help or suggestions to whatever it was the Spy was doing to it.

Scout leaned close to where Pyro's ear would be and muttered- "Ten bucks he's playin' Minesweeper, bro."

Demoman had finally appeared, tipsy, but no surprises for anyone there.

Engineer came in late, overalls covered in a layer of grease and oil, and sat next to Heavy, who was intent on listening to the others rather than talking, as his Medic was busy in the conjoining kitchen.

"Hey, partner."

"Привет, Engineer." The Heavy smiled down at the shorter male.

"Got that Machine up an' runnin' like a beaut. Should be alright now."

"You find out vhat problem is?"

"Nope, just seemed like a glitch ta me, partner. Don't quite rightly now what happened to the Doc today, but it shouldn't happ'n 'gain."

As if he could hear the mention of his name, the Medic spun out of the kitchen, balancing plates all across his arms and one on his head, wearing a clean, crisp new shirt and tie. He had found his coat earlier, but being in the middle of the desert and working over a hot stove in a thick long-coat was claustrophobic.

The doctor set the plates down in front of some of the members, going back for more.

Heavy ended up craning his neck to see what they had received, and was met with the sight of a hot stew, one of the many meals Medic seemed to perfect. It was, from what the giant of a man could see, steaming and rich, and Heavy grinned in anticipation. Medic always made the best food.

Medic finally sat with his own plate, handing Heavy his own and sitting next to the man, grinning up at him as the weapons experts' green-blue eyes light up.

Conversation was light and airy, everyone enjoying the food, including the Pyro, who lifted his mask to eat.

"So Doc, I checked the Respawn for ya." Came from Engie, and Medic leaned forward to see around Heavy to meet with goggle-framed eyes.

"Ja? Anyzing out of ze ordinary?"

"'Fraid not, normal as ever."

"Hmn. Unusual."

"What's that about?" came from the other end of the table, the Sniper becoming interested.

"Ah, the Respawn Machine glitched today, zhats all."

"Hmm." Came from the French Spy. "Possible work of my counterpart?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if he's as much of a slimy git as you." The Sniper muttered nonchalantly, but smirked all the same.

"Say zat again and you will end up with a matching scar on your ozzer thigh, bushman."

He remained quiet yet his smirked remained.

Heavy grinned. His team, it was fun to be a part of it. Each member was different but there was a lot of love and connection between them.

About to say something, he turned to his doctor, only to see the shorter man looking dreamily deep in thought and his blue eyes wandering over the table's inhabitants silently.

"Doktor . . .?" Heavy murmured lowly, catching the younger males attention, but no ones else's.

"Ja?"

"You alright?"

The Medic met his question eyes and gave a little smile. "Ja, just thinking."

"Da? Vhat about?"

The Medic smiled and looked at every member of his team from across the table. His run-in with death and the possibility of not respawning today got him thinking.

"Ve're like a family, ja? Ve vurk together, live together, help each other. . . .Ve do good, don't ve?"

A warm arm enclosed the Medics shoulders and Heavy brought him into a hug, grinning.

"Da, Doktor. We are family."