Chapter Ten

. . .

Please, she had said. Please tell me the truth.

It was the one request the Engineer had always feared. The unspoken agreement between Roy and his beloved wife had always been that she would never ask, for he would never tell. She had seen his scars and she had witnessed his sleepless night but she had always known not to ask. Even two years ago when an armed burglar tried to break into their home and Roy crushed the man's wrist with just his hand, she never asked. Yet here they sat side by side, bruised and battered, in this dingy motel room with its smoke stained ceiling and its tattered curtains. His gunslinger arm had lost all feeling and sat numbly in a sling. They'd nearly lost one another for good, and his wife needed to know why. She deserved to know why.

Please, she had said. Please tell me the truth.

"What in God's name did you do for RED, Roy?" Her tired eyes pleaded with him.

"Alright," sighed Roy in defeat as he held her hand. "alright…" He took a deep breath and looked down at his muddy boots.

"When I was first approached by RED, back in 68, I'd turned them down. Y'see I didn't like how shady the whole affair was- was very hush-hush. But I was strugglin', Arleen, I had no money an' no family an' not really that much else goin' for me at the time. I'd been let go a few months before an' well … I kinda lost myself. 'went int'a real dark place, y'know? 'place I ain't even spoke of before. Not to anyone." He paused to glance up at Arleen, who gave him a small smile to urge him on.

"Well … 'was durin' that time I began to design and build my contraptions that I … I had no idea I was capable of makin', y'know? I had no Idea how the administrator – that's all I knew her as – no idea how she found me, but she did. The second time, when she offered me double the initial pay, I agreed. That summer I flew out to Teufort an' met the team." He smiled fondly at the memory. "It was only when we were all together in that room that we … that we were told exactly what the job entailed…" he wavered.

"It's ok hon, go on." She patted his good arm.

"Killing." He glanced up again, but him wife just nodded. "Between 68' and 73' I must have killed … over a hundred people. Maybe more. Mercenaries jus' like myself, people paid to come and play the RED and BLU game. Did I feel guilty at the time?" he wondered out loud "No. No I didn't. 'fact I … I enjoyed it. I was good at it." He allowed a small period of silence to encompass the room as he rubbed his wife's hand. He kept waiting for her to break down but she didn't. She just listened and nodded.

"Pyro was my partner," He said finally "'always had my back an' heck, I like to think I always had his too. After we all went our separate ways I gave him my number, but he never called … 'wasn't until after that day - when the officer phoned to tell me Pyro'd died - that I even spoke to any'a the guys again. What we were doin' as a part'a RED … it weren't right but…" he paused to look at Arleen once more, this time it was he who pleaded. "We never judged one another … y'know?"

She nodded carefully.

"I'm sorry that I … I never told you. S'because I was afraid. I was afraid that you'd leave me, that you wouldn't love me no more." He held both her hands in his remaining flesh hand, his gunslinger arm useless in its sling. "I love you Arleen, with all my heart, an' that's the God's honest truth. How could I tell you that … that I was a murderer?"

"You could have told me," she said "just as you've done now." She smiled and lifted one hand to rest on his bruised cheek.

"You mean-"

"I love you too Roy, no matter what." They stared at one another and suddenly Roy felt a sting in his eyes as relief washed over him. He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed, his face nuzzling her neck. She kissed him and stroked his head.

Knock knock knock

"Dangit … Yeah?"

"It's me, Engie." Called Medic.

"Come in, doc."

"Sorry to interrupt," he said "but you asked to be alerted vhen ze Spy voke up?"

"Oh yeah, s'he-"

"Yes," said Medic "and it is not good."

. . .

Spy sat alone in his motel room, staring at nothing. Feeling nothing.

After Medic had told him, he'd asked to be left alone. Scout and Sniper had both stopped by to check on him but he'd chased them off. Heavy had knocked on the door, but when the Spy had ignored him, he left without popping his head inside. The Frenchman looked bitterly at his legs as the Medics voice repeated in his head, replaying like a gritty, broken record.

"I'm sorry, Spy," and for once the doctor genuinely looked it "but you'll never walk again."

He stared with stony eyes, willing his toes to move, to flinch or to wiggle. He punched his thighs, he clawed at his knees and he beat his shins. If his knife had been within reach he would not have thought twice about spearing his legs until he bled out. Nothing. He couldn't feel a damn thing. He'd been left permanently crippled. Useless.

"Spah…?" It was the Engineer. Or Roy now, apparently.

"Leave me." He hissed as natural light snuck in behind the Texan's burly frame.

"'fraid I can't do that pardner," he smiled, trying not to let the pity show "I owe ya too much to be doin' that."

"You owe me nothing."

"Now that ain't-"

"I did not go after Calvin for you or your wife," he spat "I went for Nathan … and I failed."

"You're alive an' Calvin is dead. That's a win-win in my book." At that Spy scoffed and turned away.

"How is it, labourer, that in this cruel life a man can be brought back from the brink of death with a mechanical appendage. But one cannot regain the feeling in 'is legs with a similar miracle?"

"Well … we don't have respawn no more," he said dumbly. The question had been rhetorical but Roy hated awkward silences "but you're still alive, right? For that, I'm sure your wife'll be grateful-"

"My wife," said Spy "will resent me. What good is a man without 'is ability to walk? To work? To make love to 'is woman?"

"Now there are plenty of folks without the use'a their legs who live perfectly independent lives-"

Spy put his face in his hands, not willing to listen to reason. A man not in his position could not possibly understand.

"Just get out."

. . .

"Hey, ain't ya goin' back to Scotland?" Sniper pushed his hat up with his finger as he packed his van. Demoman nodded at him with a cheshire grin.

"Aye," he pointed a thumb at soldier "an' he's comin' wae me."

"We're goin' to hunt haggis." Stated Soldier.

"Yer whot?"

"That's right camper, real men hunt haggis, not koalas and kangaroos."

"I've never hunted koalas or-"

"Why don't ye come way us, boyo?" interrupted Demo. "Sure wi could use yer expertise an' that."

"Thanks lads, but I'm driving Scout home. Wanna make sure the kid's alright." The usually boisterous Bostonian had fallen uncharacteristically quiet after learning that Spy had been left paralysed. Maybe the kid took it the hardest because, more than the older men on the team, he literally couldn't imagine a life without his legs. He'd been running every day for over twenty years now.

"Hrn. What about you Fritz?" Soldier looked over at Medic who was setting up a wheelchair and muttering about his doves. "Fancy a trip to Scotland? It's a real country you know. Apparently got a big city called Galsgo."

"Glasgow." Said Demo.

"Ja, I know." Medic rolled his eyes. "But no zhank you. My flight to Germany has already been booked."

"Dah," said Heavy. "As is mine!"

"Yer goin' ta Germany?"

"Yes, vid doctor. Ve go to drink much beer and eat many feasts!" he beamed.

"What about … Spy?"

"Engineer is in zhere asking if he vould like company back home. But I zhink I speak for us all vhen I say I doubt he'll accept."

"Yeah." Sniper shock his head glumly. "S'a bloody shame that is. Dunno whot I'd do if it were me."

Everyone nodded, shivering at the thought.

. . .

"Any luck?" asked Medic. Engineer's sullen face was answer enough as he exited Spy's room. The rest of the team had returned to their rooms and Medic stood alone in the car park smoking his pipe. "Ach, he vill adjust. Zhe first few months are alvays zhe hardest."

"Ya know many cripples?"

"Ja," said Medic "I crippled zhem myself to study zhe effects, so I'm very familiar vith zhe process."

"Oh …" sometimes – just sometimes – Engie forgot that Medic was a crazy bastard. "Ya got that wheelchair all set up?"

"Indeed," he patted it fondly "Zhis came vith zhe same van I stole zhat had Archimedes in zhe back." He chuckled "It took veeks to get all zhat blood out of zhe vindshield vipers."

"Right..." Engies face went hard, though Medic knew it wasn't because of his overly enthusiastic fascination with blood.

"Something zhe matter?"

"Yeah, Calvin."

"Oh?"

"He said some things t'me that really got me thinking. 'said that he worked for Grey before we did. 'That he was the original designer of the gunslinger an' that all'a the work that was passed down to me and the BLU Engineer stemmed from his own work."

"And?"

"Well heck doc, Y'all probably won't understand but, when you slave over something for so long – pouring sweat, blood and tears into it, dedicating every second of the day to it-" he closed his eyes. "Only to have no appreciation, not even any acknowledgment for it …" he sighed, pausing to calm himself. "Now I ain't saying I agree with what Calvin did, hell he nearly killed me and all I hold dear. He's responsible for Pyro's death for Christ sake! But … I understand …. I understand how he felt s'all."

"Honestly," huffed Medic "Only you could hate someone and feel sorry for zhem at zhe same time."

"Ma momma always told me that was a gift."

"Mothers vill say anything to shut zheir children up." Engie chuckled and rubbed his arm absent mindedly, earning him a look. "You are sure you don't vant me to take another look at your arm?"

"I appreciate it doc, but think I'm jus' gonna leave it. My fightin' days are done anyhow. Should'a been done long ago, that's for sure."

"Agreed," he smiled devilishly "how did your vife take it?"

"Take what?" Medic gave him a what-the-hell-do-you-think look. "Oh," Engie laughed "Yeah she took it alright. Says she still loves me even though I'm a killer. How'd I ever get so lucky?"

"Luckier than your BLU counterpart," said Medic "I have his head in zhe van by zhe vay, if you're interested?"

"Uh … thanks doc," Engie forced a smile "but no thanks."

"Suit yourself." He turned. "Heavy!"

"Coming doctor!" The large man was hauling all of Medics belongings out of his room. Some of the suitcases had bloody wires sticking out around the sides.

"This has been … interesting, Engie-"

"Roy," he stuck out his hand "yeah, it has."

Medic smiled coyly and took the hand. "Hans," he said. "This has been interesting, Roy."

Heavy lugged the last of the bags into the back of Medics van and dusted his big hands. "I have said goodbye to rest of team," he said "Is leetle Engie's turn!"

"Now hold up there fella-" too late, Engie was lifted clear off his feet and wrapped in a rib-crushing bear hug. "J-jesus-!" his legs dangled and his feet kicked instinctively.

"Ve make good team, Engie!" The much shorter man laughed and patted his back, though his expression was red and painful. Medic just observed with a soft smile.

"Th-thank you kindly," coughed Engie, hand on chest "Jus' Roy is fine."

"Roy." Said Heavy. "Is good name. Sergey." He offered his hand, which Engie shook.

"S'been a pleasure Sergey," he nodded "Hans."

"Ja," said Medic. "Come Heavy." He got into his van and started it up.

"Doctor, you do not vish to say goodbye to team?" Medic shot him a demonic look. "uh … Coming!" The large man clambered into the van without further delay as Medic revved the engine. Engineer waved as the van chugged to life and speedily drove out of the car park and disappeared into the distance. He'd probably never see either of those men again, Engie thought. Either that or he'd read about the pair of them landing themselves in prison one day. No doubt due to Medics … hobbies.

. . .

"Knock, knock." Sniper rapped as he said each syllable. "Y'awake?"

"Non."

"Good," Sniper stepped inside and closed the door, removing his beaten hat as he did so. "Heavy an' Medic left without saying g'bye, the wankas."

"If I 'ad the use of my legs I assure you," he turned to glare at the Aussie "I would 'ave done the same thing 'ours ago." Sniper ignored that and took a seat.

"How ya gettin' home then?"

"The dear doctor was ever so kind as to leave me a wheelchair."

"Whot, ya gonna wheel yerself back to Boston?" he raised an eyebrow at Spy's stubborn silence. "Look, m'goin' to Boston to drop Scout off anyway, why don't ya stop sulkin' an' jus' agree to come with us?"

"Fine," said Spy "No doubt your 'orrific driving will end my misery before we get there anyway."

"Oi, me drivin' ain't that bad."

"Please," he snorted "you manage to drive everywhere other than your side of the road." He sat up and motioned for Sniper to pass him the cigarettes on the nightstand. He let one hang from his lips as Sniper lit it for him, as he muttered under his breath.

"Ain't this Pyro's lighter?" he inspected the scorched surface and glanced at Spy.

"Oui," he waved a hand "I pickpocketed it from the labourer two days ago."

"Yer bloody awful. Engie oughta-"

"Relax, Bushman," smoke rushed from his nostrils "I will be returning it before we depart."

"Right. Good." He idly looked about the room, spotting Nate's dog tags on the end of the bed. "Ya gonna give 'em to his mum?" he nodded at them.

"Pray tell, 'ow would I tell 'er I found them? I am certainly not telling 'er what actually 'appened here."

"Ah … never thought'a that."

"Nothing knew there, you not thinking."

"Yer so clever. What are ya gonna tell her about … about yer legs?"

"I … am not sure." He admitted. "That my dear Australian friends driving nearly got me killed, perhaps? But that 'e only succeeded in crippling me?"

"Me drivin' ain't that bad-"

"I'm honestly surprised you 'ave a licence." Spy snickered as he pushed the covers away from himself and lifted each leg with his hands and slung them off the side. "Your arm, if you please."

Still grumbling, Sniper helped him up. Spy wrapped his arm around the taller man's shoulder and gained his balance, wincing.

"Let go."

"Whot?"

"Let go of me."

"But Spook-"

"I need to try, damn you!" Sniper let go as if he'd just been burned and Spy headed straight for the floor. "Argh-!" before he could make contact with the stained motel carpet, Sniper caught him again.

"Easy-easy," he helped hold him up again. "Yer alright, mate."

"No, no I am not alright!" he spat "I can't feel my legs!" he began to curse in frantic French as Sniper sat him back on the bed. As Spy sat with his head in his hands, cursing himself and the world to hell and back, Sniper stood uncomfortably and wrung his hands.

"Wait 'ere, I'll go get the wheelch-"

"Oh, 'wait 'ere' he says! Thank you for the instructions, mate, I was going to go for a stroll while you were away!"

Sniper lifted his finger and opened his mouth to rebut, but when he saw the agony that danced behind Spy's eyes he closed his mouth, nodded and went for the wheelchair. Spy stared at his feet and hoped, prayed that he would wake up and this would all just be a bad dream.

. . .

"Yo hardhat," Scout strided up to Engie "How's the arm doin'?"

"Still can't feel a darn thing."

"Man, ya gonna be fine. Fer an egg head, yer pretty resilient ya know."

"Well I like to think so." He chuckled "You boys almost ready to head off?"

Scout turned to see Sniper holding open Spy's motel door and the Frenchmen steering himself out, his gloved hands pulling the thin wheels round. "Yeah looks like it." He bit his lip. "S'been … fuckin' weird this whole thing, ain't it?"

Engie smiled and put a hand on the younger man's shoulder "It has. I'm glad y'all came, S'been jus' swell seeing you boys again. Frankly, I don't think I'd be here if it weren't for each and every one'a you."

"Oh c'mon Engie," Scout smiled sheepishly and rubbed his arm. "Don't you be goin' all mushy an' shit on me." Sniper and Spy approached them, the latter with an indignant scowl at having to look up at his shorter teammates.

"Well, we all set?" asked Sniper.

"Yeah we're good," Scout nodded "Later hardhat." He stuck out his hand and Engie gave it a friendly shake.

"Y'all stay outta trouble now, y'hear?"

"No promises, man."

"That goes for you too, stretch."

"I'll try me best," he grinned and shook Engies hand. "Take care, Truckie."

"Roy," he said "that's my name."

"Heh, ye'll always be Truckie t'me, mate." He tipped his hat politely and made for his van as Scout followed behind him, opening a can of bonk.

"Spah," he offered his hand, but when the seated Frenchman took it, Engie could barely bring himself to face the other man. "I … I owe you everything."

"Do you?"

"If you hadn't tracked down the BLU Spah, we wouldn'ta known that Pyro was murdered." He squeezed that gloved hand gratefully. "We wouldn't have known about Calvin and well, we'd probably all be dead now."

"Probably," Spy agreed. "Alas, Roy, you 'elped me uncover what really happened to Nate. We 'elped one another out, no?"

"Yeah," he glanced at Spy's useless legs and then lowered his eyes to stare at his numb arm. "At a price."

"There is always a price, mon ami," he began to steer himself towards Snipers van. "Wither it be permanent injury, or having to suffer Snipers driving for several hours."

"Oi!"

"You boys stay safe now," he called after them. Arleen exited the motel room to join her husband on seeing his old teammates off. They intimidated her too much for her to wish to start a conversation, but she'd stay with her husband as they departed.

"Oh, and labourer?" he fumbled in his jacket pocket and then tossed something small and metal over to Roy. "Do try and keep your wits about you in the future."

Engie caught Pyros lighter, but all he could so was smile as Sniper and Scout helped Spy into the van. Soon enough, they were pulling out of the car park.

"Later!" Scouts voice was the last thing they heard before the whole area was steeped in gentle silence. Almost an hour later, Soldier and Demos taxi arrived, but the Scot was already completely sloshed by that point.

"To Scotland!" demanded Soldier as he got into the cab.

"What?" the driver turned to try and get a look at him. Engie was over in a shot and gave the man a sympathetic smile.

"To the airport, sir, don't mind them. They've jus' had a rough couple a days."

"Aye!" bellowed demo, throwing a wad of hundred dollar bills at the taxi driver. "Tae the airport!"

Engie backed away wearily as the driver nearly had a heart attack at the small fortune that landed all around him. Once the taxi had left in a cloud of smoke, the silence returned but this time it was permanent.

"Roy," said Arleen. "C'mon inside, hon." He wrapped his good arm around her waist and kissed her on the cheek.

"I'm getting' too old fer the likes of the lads, I think."

"They all looked up to you. If I didn't know any better, I'da assumed you were their boss."

"Boss?" that elicited a chesty laugh "Nah, they're … they're more like brothers t'me. 'cept for Scout. Try as I might t'see otherwise, that boy is still just a kid t'me. I can understand how Spah was able to see the BLU Scout as a son." His wife gave him a pitying look and rubbed his back.

"I'm curious … to know what your team were like back when you worked with them." She pushed open the motel door.

"Oh?" Engie smiled as memories came to him. "That'd take all night."

"We don't needa drive out until tomorrow," she said sweetly. "We got all night."

"Ho boy, were to even start?" He sat down on the bed and his wife joined him, snuggling into his chest with her head cradling in the crook of his neck. "Well, first guy I met outta the lotta them was Pyro …"

He spoke for hours, devotedly recalling the tales of his days with RED. He mentioned how he would sit strumming his guitar and observing his team. Of how Pyro always offered to light Spy's cigarettes. Of how Scout always went running when there was a storm out, and Engie always had a towel waiting for him when he came back. Of how Heavy spent most of his leisure time in the bases little library, reading thick Russian novels. Of how Medic once affectionately adopted a bird that had flown into the infirmary's window, nursing it back to health and naming is Posedonius. Of how Sniper stopped talking milk in his coffee just so that there was more for Scout to drink. Of how Soldier went to bed last and woke up first just so that he could check the defences and make sure his team were safe. Of how Demoman quietly sung beautiful Gaelic lullaby's when he thought everyone else was already asleep. And of how Spy arrived in the strategy room early every single time just to memorise his team's position's so that he could check up on them while on the field.

"They were all a lil', y'know, short of a few screws though." He recalled.

"No," said Arleen. "They sound like good men." He kissed her on the forehead and looked out of the foggy motel window as an aeroplane passed over the top of them in the distance.

"Yeah, they are."

. . .

So there you have it, my very first contribution to the wonderful TF2 fanfiction community. I hit a bit of a snag at the end there when I lost all my documents, but you guys were mighty patient with me. I'd like to thank everyone who's followed, favourited and reviewed Marked for Death, I'm glad you all enjoyed it! Hopefully anything I write in the future will not disappoint, though I don't currently have anything planned. Have a merry Christmas at the end of the month everyone, and a happy new year! - Des